Lady Vivian Defies a Duke - By Samantha Grace Page 0,26

had discovered a number of pleasant ways to pass the time at Brighthurst House while awaiting his youngest brother and sister-in-law’s arrival. His family would be assuming chaperone duties for the coming journey to Irvine Castle since Vivian’s cousin hadn’t fully recovered from her illness.

Much of the past week had been spent in Vivian’s company, beginning with invigorating morning rides and ending with battles over the chessboard. Occasionally, she even beat him soundly. She was much more than her brother had promised, and Luke had begun to wonder if Ashden knew his sister at all.

This afternoon he had retreated to the small orchard with his valet, eager to test the accuracy of his newest acquisition, a Harper’s Ferry flintlock pistol. One of the best advantages to a holiday in the country was no one complained about noise when one fired a barking iron.

He nodded to Thomas to place the target then waited for his servant to move to safety.

After rotating the flint to full cock, Luke aimed and squeezed the trigger. The gun gave a satisfying flash and kick. He had dreamed of owning this particular firearm ever since he had seen an American officer carrying one three years ago. His friend, Daniel, had procured it during one of his trips to America and gave it to Luke as thanks for assisting his family in a matter.

The gun felt right in his hand. The aim was off by a fraction, though, and shot to the left of his target. He reloaded, compensated for the inaccuracy, and fired again. The rotting apple exploded.

“Solid shot, Your Grace,” Thomas said.

The sound of applause startled Luke, and he wheeled around to discover Vivian approaching with her maid. “Bravo, Your Grace. I was walking in the gardens when I heard a gunshot.”

How like the lady to be undeterred by shots fired.

He held out the pistol for her inspection. “It’s my pride and joy.”

Reaching out to brush her hand over the polished handle, her fingers made contact with his. The slow-burning fire that had been smoldering inside him for days sparked to life.

“How beautiful,” she said. “Ash has nothing as fine.”

That was untrue. Ashden had a sister of the finest quality, even if the man didn’t recognize her value. Finding another gentleman eager to marry her would be no challenge.

He cleared his thickened throat and moved away to reload. He couldn’t think on another gentleman enjoying her companionship, or he might do something stupid. “Would you like to fire it?”

“Me?”

“Place another apple,” he called to Thomas before returning his attention to the lady. “I believe early in our association you admitted to a talent for shooting. I will reload and you can give a demonstration.”

“I said I know how to shoot, not that I could hit an apple at ten paces.”

He winked. “Lucky for you the apple doesn’t shoot back then.” Half-cocking the flint, he retrieved a paper cartridge, bit off the end, and poured black powder into the priming pan. “Do you know how to load a firearm, too, or just how to discharge one?” he asked as he closed the frizzen.

“I have watched my brother reload many times, but he never allows me to handle the powder.” She leaned closer to observe his work.

Luke grinned and funneled the remaining powder into the barrel. “That will never do. A lady who wields a barking iron must learn how to arm herself properly. After you take the shot, I’ll show you how.” He pushed the lead ball and paper as far as it would go into the barrel, returned the ramrod to its home, and offered her the gun. “Before you fire, I wish to see your stance.”

She took the pistol and held it in both hands with arms outstretched and the appropriate amount of tension in her limbs. Good. She was experienced enough to be prepared when firing an unfamiliar weapon. He had no cause to worry about a bruised cheekbone or broken nose from the piece kicking back at her.

“Aim a bit to your right to hit your target.”

“It has no sight. How am I to aim?”

“I’ll show you.” He stood behind her to wrap his arms around her. She jumped, her bottom brushing against his groin. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t mean…” She trailed off, a pink flush climbing the back of her neck.

His blood ran hot and rushed to places that held a special fondness for her. He tightened his grip around her hands, sensing the tremor moving