Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,68

force in the universe was so powerful that neither she nor Julian seemed capable of stepping away from the other?

Or was it only her?

He caressed the length of her forearm gently, sending a shiver down her spine. “Is that lemon cake I smell?”

There was laughter in his voice but also something else. Something primitive that reignited the sharp wanting that had kept her awake half the night.

“Breakfast,” she said, then cleared her throat. “I ate three of them.”

She felt his chuckle behind her.

And her reaction didn’t seem as though it was one-sided. His breaths sounded a little shorter, a little quicker, just as hers were. His touch lingered longer than it should have, just as she craved.

His lips brushed the shell of her ear, shooting unexpected liquid heat to her core.

They lined up a third time. Charley drew back the string—

“Here they are!” a shrill voice announced, causing Charley to turn her head at the same moment she loosened her grasp of the string.

Any warm fuzzy feelings she’d had fled when her right forearm felt as though it had burst into flames. The arrow landed wide, missing the ubiquitous haybales stacked about and knocking over a vase that had been considered distant enough from the targets so as to be safe.

Glass shards went flying and flowers and water scattered on the floor.

Horrified at what she’d done, Charley bit back her yelp of pain and pressed her arm against her belly.

Jules had taken a few respectable steps away from her and turned toward the door as well. Apparently, the other guests in the house party didn’t wish to be left out. Miss Somerset, her younger sister Miss Delia, and Lady Felicity swept inside the ballroom along with a handful of others.

“Oh, dear! I hope it wasn’t valuable.” The elder Somerset sister’s words ought to have been sympathetic, but she spoke them with a hint of glee. “I suppose you didn’t have the opportunity to learn archery either while growing up in America.”

“Oh, but—”

“You are quite fortunate to be allowed to mingle amongst society,” Miss Somerset interrupted Charley before she could assert that archery, was in fact, something of which she had some knowledge.

“Miss Jackson is not without proficiency with the bow and arrow.” Jules sent a meaningful glance toward the target where both of the two other arrows she’d shot protruded unapologetically from the center circle.

“As always, my lord, you are kindness itself—to give credit for your abilities to the… lady.”

Charley was not unfamiliar with Miss Somerset’s type. There had been plenty of equally spiteful young women in Philadelphia. Ladies who seemed to have everything they could possibly want or need, and yet it was never enough.

They would wish to take something away from people who would not fight them.

Charley would not fight Rachel Somerset over this. She had other things to worry about. Like what she was going to do with Jules and all these… feelings.

And she wanted nothing more than to sooth the skin on her arm with something wet and cool.

“I believe a contest is in order,” Lord Chaswick suggested while laughing. “A friendly one, in the spirit of fun.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Charley objected.

“Wouldn’t that be unseemly?” Felicity sent her a pitying glance. “It would not be an even match.”

“Surely, ladies appreciate a little friendly competition?” Lord Manningham-Tissinton said, with a challenging gleam in his eyes.

Charley groaned inwardly, as Rachel Somerset turned to her, looking rather pleased at the prospect. “We do on occasion. But I wouldn’t want to embarrass Miss Jackson.”

Charley exhaled a long slow breath.

“What do you say?” Jules met her eyes. “Are you willing to give it a go?”

He chuckled. He’d known she’d made the shots on her own. “It would not be a fair competition.” She shrugged. “But if Miss Somerset wishes to make some sort of wager…”

“Is that what ladies do in America? How positively outrageous!”

“I beg your pardon, my dear Miss Somerset? When my mother tries her hand at whist, are you suggesting she’s not a proper lady?” Lord Greystone spoke in an icy tone from where he’d been standing near the entrance.

Charley clutched her wrist and resisted the urge to pull back her sleeve so that she could blow on her arm… anything to cool the burning. A large pitcher of water placed on a nearby table looked heavenly. She could pour the water onto her burning skin, or better yet, submerge her arm in it completely.

“It is set then! Each of the ladies will take three shots and the best