Page 21 of The Swindler’s Daughter

He got up and dusted his knees off. “I can always make time for shooting.” He grinned.

It was so strange to see him this way, with his usual carefree manner. The image of him lying helpless on his bed, missing his Isabel, had been so ingrained in my mind that seeing him grinning and teasing was jarring.

“Come,” he said, tipping his head toward the woods where his archery range was situated.

When we reached the spot from which we usually shot, he handed me a quiver. “Let’s see what you can do.” It was his usual way of starting our lessons. See where I was so that he knew where to go next.

I cleared my mind, adjusting my stance and then carefully raising my bow, drawing the arrow back until my thumb rested at the corner of my mouth. Then I breathed out, making sure my bow held steady before letting go.

The arrow landed in the second ring, and I was proud of it.

“Good start,” he said, then came closer. “But your arrow tip is still dipping just before you release.”

I nodded and nocked another arrow, making sure to stand totally still until the arrow had thunked into the target before breaking my stance. It still hit the second ring, but to the right of the center instead of below.

“Good. Faster,” was all Rowan said.

I did as instructed, trying to move quickly while keeping my precision. I hit the third ring.

“Not quite what we were hoping for,” Rowan said as he stepped up right behind me. “Draw another.”

I nocked and drew back yet another arrow. Rowan reached around my side, pushing up just slightly on the underside of my left forearm. I released my grip before I was ready and the arrow flew wide.

I gave an awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to respond.

Rowan stepped forward so that he could face me, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m trying to learn something,” I replied, attempting to shake off my nerves.

“But you’re acting strange,” he said, studying my face. “You’re not pushing back at all, and you haven’t tried to argue with me over how I’m dealing with our corrupt lawmen.”

I grimaced. He was right. I didn’t usually acquiesce and follow his demands so easily. He’d fallen into the habit of crowding me, and I usually responded by flipping my mass of curly hair into his face or throwing an elbow into his stomach. It was how I’d decided to combat the attraction I felt for him.

But now I knew he was more than just an arrogant flirt. I knew that he was a widower who longed for his wife, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I looked at him, at his confusion, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Did you know,” I started slowly, “that I helped you when you were ill?” My voice quivered with nerves.

“Yes,” he said confused by the change in topic. “I suppose I never thanked you for that. I have only a vague recollection of you helping me into the house. I do appreciate you getting me inside.”

I looked down, clearing my throat and gathering my courage. “I stayed for a while. Tried to get your fever down.”

“Oh.” He seemed embarrassed by that. “That was very kind of you.”

It was odd, hearing him give me a sincere compliment, especially one that was outside the realm of archery. But I hadn’t been fishing for thanks. No, I had to broach a much more difficult subject. “You were a bit delirious.”

A strained half-smile bent his lip. “I hope I didn’t say anything inappropriate.”

I shook my head. “Not inappropriate, just…surprising.”

Worry knit his brows together, and he leaned away from me. “What exactly did I say?”

I wrapped myself in bravery and asked, “Rowan, were you married?”

The change in his demeanor was profound. His face drained of color and he took a stumbling step back. His eyes cast about as if trying to find something to focus on, something that would force this moment to make sense. Finally, after countless emotions chased themselves across his face, his eyes settled on me. Still, it was several heartbeats before he spoke, his voice hoarse. “What did I say when I was ill?”

A sad smile pulled at my mouth. “You thought I was Isabel.”

His eyes closed at the mention of her name. “And what gave you the idea that Isabel was my wife?”