Lady Vivian Defies a Duke - By Samantha Grace Page 0,27
up her arm. “You must hold steady.”
“I’m trying,” she said on a wisp of breath.
He placed his head beside hers, tempted beyond reason to taste the delicate place behind her ear. She always smelled sweet, like vanilla and sugar. “Close one eye then look down the length of the barrel.”
His tumultuous breaths stirred tendrils of hair curling around her delicate ear. His lips parted as he contemplated gliding his mouth along her slender neck to coax a pleasurable sigh from her. He wanted to trace the hollow of her collarbone with his tongue then release the fastenings of her gown and peel away the muslin from her shoulders. His fingers longed to free her perfect breasts from the vicious corset holding her prisoner and caress her skin.
“Good luck!” Her maid’s shrill call brought him crashing back into the moment.
He shuffled back a step, creating space between him and Vivian. “Whenever you are ready, my lady. Squeeze gently.” His voice had grown husky.
Her finger hugged the trigger, and a flash of light and heat preceded the sharp crack. The top left half of the apple was obliterated.
“I did it!”
The servants cheered, and a wide grin split Thomas’s face. “Excellent shot, my lady.”
“Thank you.” She spun toward Luke, her eyes shining like jewels. “May I try again?”
“Only if you reload it. I’ll tell you what to do.” He captured her hand and led her to the supplies. She took the cartridge from him and sniffed it.
“Must I bite it?”
“If you are ever in danger, you must, but allow me.” He closed his hand around hers and brought the cartridge to his mouth, ripping the top with his teeth. Her lips parted on a soft gasp, and he couldn’t hold back a satisfied grin.
To realize he affected her as much as she did him gave him a jolt of shameful pleasure. He had no right to engage in a flirtation with the lady when she belonged to another gentleman, or would belong to another gentleman.
His mood sobered. “Now open the frizzen so you can pour a little in the pan.”
She followed his directions, her slender fingers sure and proficient. Once she had the firearm primed and loaded, she moved into position. Luke kept his distance this time, curious to see what she was capable of.
Her shot missed.
She turned to him with a frown. “May I try again?”
“As many times as you wish. Just wipe the flint with your thumb each time to keep it clean.” He hung back as she prepared to reload. This time she bit the cartridge with no hesitation.
Her next shot sent fragments of apple flying and earned an exhilarated yelp from the servants.
He lowered to the grass, enjoying the view as she hurried to reload the pistol again. She hit her targets three more times and likely would have continued target practice if a commotion on the front drive hadn’t deterred her. A carriage was pulling up to Brighthurst House.
That would be Drew and Lana.
Luke rose, dusted off his trousers, and went to collect his gun. “Shall we go greet the new arrivals?” He set the pistol on a stump and offered his arm. As they started toward the front drive, a high-pitched caterwaul rent the air followed by another.
A crease appeared between Vivian’s brows. “Good heavens. Was that a cat?”
“Worse. My brother has arrived with his ladies.”
“Ladies? How many ladies?” The quiver of her voice suggested her imagination might be less proper than one would expect of an innocent maiden.
“Just three.”
Specifically, Drew’s spirited wife and lively ginger-haired daughters. His mother referred to the little ones as twin handfuls.
“Only three? And they don’t mind?”
He chuckled and squeezed her hand affectionately. “There’s no cause for alarm. It’s only my brother’s wife and daughters.”
Her grip relaxed and she released a breathy laugh. “You tease me horribly, Your Grace.”
As they neared the drive, they encountered a flurry of activity. A footman was loosening the last of the trunks while another hoisted one on his shoulder and toted it inside.
His brother waved and reached back inside the carriage to assist his wife down the stairs. Lana emerged with tousled hair and a wrinkled travel gown.
Another scream blasted from the confines of the coach.
“Chloe, please,” she chided as she alighted with a painfully amused grin.
Vivian’s cousin floated from the house and waited by the entrance to greet Luke’s family. The lady appeared as fragile and pale as a ghost, but Vivian had assured him she was beginning to look more like her former self.