Page 75 of A Fierce Archer

Ewan scowled. “We have not yet discussed the rules of the game or the prize.”

“True,” Esme said, her eyes scanning the surroundings until landing on his wife. “If I win, I wish ye to spend the night with Catriona outdoors, no shelter, only bedding.”

“That is a stupid prize to ask for,” he growled.

“Fine,” Esme then said. “If I win, I wish for ye to remove all yer clothing and run around the entire keep with nothing but a hat on yer head. Hat of my choice, of course.”

Ewan looked to where Catriona sat. They could not hear what was being said, but she watched them with ill-concealed curiosity. Just then, the damned vulture leaned into her ear and she smiled at whatever the idiot spewed. “I will sleep outside if I lose.”

“With yer wife?” Esme asked.

“She will be angry with ye. But very well.”

“What do ye wish for a prize if ye happen to win?” Esme asked, daring in her gaze.

“That ye ride on a horse facing backward the length of the field.” He pointed over to a wide field.

“I would fall,” Esme said with an astounded expression. “I am an able rider, but I must admit that I’ve never attempted to ride backward.”

He waited until she finally met his gaze. “No matter. I do not intend to lose.”

When they stepped up to the marks, the crowd silenced. Esme looked to him and gave him a narrowed look. She then turned to the target and shot. The arrow hit almost center, but just to the right.

Ewan grinned. It wasn’t like the woman to ever miss. Perhaps she was a bit distracted.

Letting out an exhale, he stared straight then took his shot. He also missed, hitting to the left of the center.

There was a hush in the crowd as two guards who’d been appointed to be impartial went and inspected the target.

They held up Ewan’s arrow and the crowd cheered.

Esme huffed loudly and walked up to the mark. “I am not toying with ye any longer.”

She pulled back, stood utterly still, then loosed the arrow. This time, she hit the target dead center, and then to everyone’s glee, performed a happy little dance. Those gathered clapped.

Ensuring to keep his breathing even, Ewan stepped up to the mark. He let out a long breath, pulled back and released his arrow. It hit the target at almost the precise place as before.

The two guards inspected the target and held up Esme’s arrow.

It was a tie.

They shot twice more. Ewan edged a win first, barely, and then Esme beat him. It finally came down to the last shot. Whoever hit closer to the center would win.

There was a hush, followed by murmurs as Esme went to stand at the mark. Ewan saw it then, a strange stillness about her. She didn’t move, her feet planted perfectly, back straight. When she let the arrow fly, he didn’t have to look to know she had hit the target perfectly. Dead center.

There were loud gasps from the crowd followed by claps. Then when he went to the mark, everyone once again silenced.

It wasn’t that losing would be so awful. He would, of course, not mind spending time outdoors with Catriona. It was the consequences he feared. For days on end after making love with her, he could think of nothing else.

Every waking moment, he saw her face, heard the sounds she’d made when they’d made love. If he were to be alone with her, could he keep from taking her again?

He was close to losing control of his emotions. His heart ached for her, his body demanded her.

Ewan could not lose the match.

His booted foot on the mark, he stepped back with his right and pulled the bow taut. Concentrating on his breathing, he focused on the target, his vision directly on Esme’s arrow.

On his exhale, he released the arrow.