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rage at the thought. It didn't help that he'd suddenly become aware that a young, unmarried woman wielded a great deal of power in his realm. That was intolerable, too. The letter commanded Rothgar to study this unnatural creature and report back to him about what could be done to restrain her.

On second thoughts, this shooting match had perhaps not been a wise suggestion. The last thing needed was for the king to learn she was skilled in such a manly sport. He followed the countess's straight back down a corridor, disturbed to have been so thoughtless, and aware that it might be symptom of worse.

He'd have to warn the others not to speak of it.

By the time they arrived at the long chamber lit by high windows, servants already had four pairs of pistols out and loaded. The targets, he noted, were of human figures, two men and two women with heart shaped "bulls" pinned to their chests.

" 'Pon my soul," Steen said. "We're to shoot at women?"

"Women," Rothgar pointed out, "are not always harmless."

"We most certainly are not," the countess agreed without a trace of womanly modesty or gentility. "If a woman was firing at you, Lord Steen, it would be folly to hesitate to fire back."

"Firing at me?" echoed Steen, clearly at a loss.

"Portia fired at me," said Bryght.

"Elf just threw a knife at me," said Fort.

"I did not," Elf objected. "I aimed at the paper you were holding, and hit exactly where I aimed!"

"A foolish trick, all the same," said Rothgar. He turned to the countess. "How will this be arranged?"

"Closest to the center of the heart wins."

Rothgar looked at the pistols. "Are those yours, Lady Arradale?" he asked, indicating a slightly smaller pair.

"Yes. Elf can use them, too, if she wishes."

"But in that case, the gentlemen should use their own, don't you think?"

"You have dueling pistols with you?" she asked, clearly startled at the thought. It was oddly pleasant to shock her.

"One never knows..." he murmured. But then he admitted, "No, but I have my own custom-made traveling pistols."

He looked at the other men, and Bryght, as he'd expected, admitted to having his own, too. His brothers were well trained. With a shrug, Elf confessed to having her own pair with her, making Fort roll his eyes, but humorously. That match was turning out surprisingly well without Elf having to try to hide what she was. A Malloren, through and through.

Servants were sent to bring the familiar weapons, and as they waited, Rothgar asked, "And the prize, Countess?"

She turned to him, suddenly guarded. "What would you suggest, my lord? I think none of us here would care about a purse of money."

"For love, then," he said deliberately to disconcert her. "We are family, after all."

"I am not."

"By connection. Do we draw for who shoots first?"

Her color blossomed interestingly before she turned to pick up a dice box. "We roll for it."

He gestured and she rolled the dice, getting eight. He rolled ones so when his pistols arrived and he had loaded them, he went first. He made no attempt not to put a pistol ball in the dead center of two hearts, one male, one female.

If it came to a contest, he wanted her to know what she faced.

Among congratulations, he looked at her and saw the spark of true competitiveness in her eyes. Ah, my lady, it is not wise to care so much about mere games.

Elf, Fort, and Bryght were next in order. Elf took unashamed pleasure in doing a little better than her husband, and Bryght, like Rothgar, made two bulls. Then Lady Arradale stepped up to the mark, back straight, chin set. She might as well have declared her intention to win. Each ball went straight to the center and she turned to meet his eyes as if it were a personal challenge.

He was not surprised, but was perhaps a little shocked by that degree of skill. Even, in the most subtle sense, aroused. He delighted in excellence.

Steen was no great shot and amiably waived his turn.

"What now?" Rothgar asked. "We fire again to settle it?"

"Into the same targets," she said, "with white paper behind. We try to make exactly the same hole."

"Good lord," said Steen, and even Bryght looked startled.

Rothgar, however, picked up his first pistol. "A most intriguing test, Lady Arradale, though such accuracy can serve no purpose in a real situation. A pistol ball in the heart will do the job. In fact, a pistol ball anywhere in