of honor and distinguished pride, and of course a proficient strategist, even at a moment’s notice.
He grew more appealing the more he intrigued her.
She fumbled with the bow and arrow, though it was unfair to Aliss. Fiona had taught her sister the fundamentals of bow hunting in case the need should ever arise, and she had hit her target often enough.
For now at least, Tarr expected a difference between the twins, and she did not intend to disappointment him.
Fiona laughed as she clumsily attempted to connect bow and arrow. Tarr stood watching her until, finally, shaking his head, he took the weapon from her. He moved close beside her, his body leaning into hers, and she let him.
She waited to see his intention, and in that moment of awkward silence, she thought she heard the steady beat of his heart. It was a strong, rhythmic thumping, not too fast or too slow but sturdy and dependable.
The solid strength of him had impressed her, but this self-assurance made her realize just how worthy an opponent he was.
“Why are you so opposed to this union?”
His question startled her. “You ask such a question while hunting?”
“We hunt not only for food but the truth, and you are well aware of that.”
“The truth is Fiona never wanted this marriage, and with many willing MacElder woman to choose from this all could have been settled by now. If you search for the truth, then I suggest you begin with yourself. Why did you pick Fiona?”
She shook her head before Tarr responded. “Do not bother with the same explanation. Tell me something different.”
He answered fast enough. “I wished a woman of multiple talents, not merely the basics.”
“Why?”
“So that we would have interests to share and I would not grow bored with her.”
“Are you sure it is not love you look for?” she asked.
“Why are you so insistent on loving?”
“Love bonds.”
“Commitment bonds. Love has nothing to do with it.”
Fiona scowled. “You are cynical when it comes to love.”
“And you are childish to believe such fairy tales of everlasting love.”
All but ready to lash out at him she kept a tight rein on her mouth. Instead, she asked, “Why are you afraid to love?”
He stared at her as if she had just pierced his heart with an arrow. “I fear nothing.”
She shrugged. “Deny it if you wish, but it is obvious.”
“And what do you fear,” he retaliated.
“Not being loved,” she shot back.
A sudden sound had both their heads turning. A large buck stood still in the distance as if just catching their scent.
Tarr raised his bow and with arrow ready, he took aim, held, and released as the buck took off. The arrow whizzed past the animal’s head.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“You aimed too high.” She bit her tongue too late.
He shoved the bow at her in a challenge.
She shook her head. “I hunt the truth today.”
He took a quick step toward her, dropping his bow. “Then tell me how this makes you feel.” He reached out, took her in his arms, and kissed her.
He stunned her, and for a moment she did not respond. Then, when she felt the full force of his solid lips pressed to hers, she lost herself in the taste of him. She allowed herself to surrender completely to the magic. She did not think or grow anxious or question; she simply enjoyed the kiss.
She allowed time to stand still, for sounds to vanish, and for there to be only the two of them locked in a loving embrace and devoured by a kiss.
He brushed his lips over hers several times when he finished and rested his forehead to hers. “You owe me an answer.”
She took a moment to catch her breath before smiling. “It makes me feel alive, like the sky is more blue, the air more crisp, the sun brighter.”
“Be careful, you may be falling in love.”
She pulled away from him, annoyed at his teasing tone. “You may know how to kiss, but you do not know how to shoot.”
“This hunt is over.”
“For today.”
Tarr bent to retrieve his bow.
A sudden sound had Fiona turning to a deer running into view. She quickly drew an arrow from the pouch strapped on Tarr’s back, grabbed the bow from his hand, and with light steps hurried forward readying her weapon.
She halted and stilled all movement, her weapon ready to shoot. With strength born of determination, she drew the bow back and fired. The arrow felled the deer.