Chapter Fifteen
Jasmine didn’t want an answer.
Not yet.
Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. After kissing her like that, Matthew effortlessly reverted to confidence and composure, as if he hadn’t laid all of his cards on the table. He cared for her. Far deeper than she thought.
If he loved her, and she couldn’t return the sentiment, it would break him.
He wanted her. Openly. He coaxed but didn’t force—as if teaching her how to swim.
She could lose herself in the rapids with him, but the calm of the shallows was unfamiliar territory.
With one wave of intimacy, she found herself slipping.
Jasmine laced her fingers through Matthew’s, and guided him back to their family.
Cassandra, Caroline, Seth, and Trevor sat on the blanket.
Lord Blackmoor stood near the targets with the impatience of a man with places to be and a point to prove.
He held a pistol in one hand and a flowing strip of black fabric in the other.
Matthew smirked.
“Blackmoor is a glutton for punishment. He came prepared.”
Jasmine raised a brow. “What is the cloth for?”
“It’s a blindfold.” Matthew leaned in, and his lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Watch carefully, and I’ll show you why I’m the King.”
A chill went through her at his tone—then, his words registered.
“You’re shooting blindfolded?”
He shot her a dazzling smile.
“You cannot shoot a target blindfolded,” Jasmine argued. “It’s impossible!”
“I have to see it first. And I’m not always on the mark. It’s more of an instinct—”
“If Lincolnshire ever stops wasting time,” Lord Blackmoor drawled, “we might finish this competition today.”
“Very well. You go first, seeing as you’re so eager.” Matthew called to the group. “Who will be his second?”
Caroline raised her hand. “I will!”
Lord Blackmoor gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Trevor will do it.”
Caroline crossed her arms and huffed. Trevor bounded to Lord Blackmoor and stood at the ready. Lord Blackmoor’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked downrange, raised his pistol, and adjusted his aim. Satisfied, he nodded to Trevor, who tied the blindfold around his eyes and stepped back.
Standing statuesque, Lord Blackmoor shot straight through the center of his target. Jasmine’s jaw dropped at the effortless display. To shoot a perfect target was hard enough—but without even seeing it?
It was inhuman!
Lord Blackmoor handed the pistol to Trevor. Like a surgeon’s assistant, the younger man loaded the gun and handed it back. Lord Blackmoor landed another perfect shot. Then another. His three shots combined to create a gaping hole in the center of the target.
Lord Blackmoor removed his blindfold, and a corner of his lip lifted. As did Jasmine’s. He had every right to be proud of himself. She had never seen such a display of talent.
Next to her, Cassandra gave a long sigh. “Poor Adrian. So close.”
“A good effort,” Caroline agreed. “Maybe next time.”
“What do you mean?” Jasmine’s brows rose. “Those were all dead-center!”
Walking on the balls of his feet, Matthew inspected Lord Blackmoor’s target.
“My turn,” he sang, then turned his attention downrange. With his fingers in the shape of an L, he made a show of judging distance like a wayfarer. He raised his shooting arm like Lord Blackmoor did, then brought it back to his side.
He pulled a blindfold from his pocket. “Lady Jasmine, if you would assist?”
Taking the silk ribbon from his hand, she brushed her fingertips over his palm. The tips of his ears reddened, and his earlier tease resurfaced. She enjoyed making him blush too. What would it take to make his face burn?
“I’m ready, my lady.” His voice turned husky. “Tie the blindfold tight, but be careful not to move my head, or you’ll offset my aim.”
Standing on her toes, she brushed his coarse curls from his face and placed the blindfold over his eyes. With great care, she tied the cloth in a knot on the back of his head. The rest of the black silk slid through her fingers.
“A kiss for luck?” He pointed to his cheek. “Right here?”
“I would hate to offset your aim.” She took on a sensuous tone of her own and whispered in his ear, “I’ll kiss you when you win… Your Highness.”
Matthew’s cheeks glowed red.
“Cruel wife,” he groaned. Then he barked, “Seth, let’s get this over with.”
Jasmine moved back to sit with Cassandra and Caroline. Once she was a safe distance away, Seth handed Matthew a pistol.
The smirk faded from Matthew’s face. Devoid of emotion, he rolled his shoulders.
As swift as a cat, he lifted his pistol and fired.
She didn’t have to look at his target to know he had hit his mark.
As graceful as a waltz, Matthew handed Seth the pistol.
Seth reloaded and handed it back. With another flick of his wrist, Matthew shot again, chiseling a narrow hole in the heart of his target.
Where Lord Blackmoor’s performance was a lesson in technicality, Matthew’s was wild, fast, and crackled like lightning. She understood what her father meant. At all times, Matthew knew exactly what he was doing.
And what he wanted.
This was why he had brought her here—to show her all he offered. Not only an accepting family and loving arms, but fierce protection from a capable man. Matthew pushed his body and mind to extreme lengths to defend what was his.
And I’ll be his wife.
After his last shot, he lifted the blindfold and turned to Jasmine with a self-satisfied smirk.
He tapped his cheek twice. She rolled her eyes and laughed.
As if bestowing a favor upon a knight, she placed a kiss at her fingertips and blew it to him.
He pretended to catch it and placed it where it belonged.
Later, she would give him a proper kiss.
He earned it.
“Bring in the targets, Trevor,” Matthew said. “It might be close! Let’s compare—”
A slow clapping sound came from the house, interrupting him. His gaze lifted, and he paled. His entire body tensed, and he whispered one word.
“No.”
A high-pitched male voice rang out, “There you are, Lord Lincolnshire.”
Before Jasmine could place the familiar voice, all four men stepped forward—which might not have been noticeable, had they not done it at the same time.
Like a pack of wolves standing off against a threat, they formed a wall around the women.
Jasmine looked to Cassandra and Caroline, who had fallen into deep curtsies.
Jasmine stood on her toes and peeked over the men’s shoulders as they bowed to the newcomer.
The approaching man’s wispy platinum hair flowed behind him as he strolled to them. Dressed in silver brocade, with gold rings gracing his fingers, he shimmered. The whiteness of his smile—all teeth—matched the sparkling diamonds dripping from his neck.
Duke Kendall.
***
“Your Grace, you’re early,” Matthew said through a terse smile. “We weren’t expecting you for another—”
“Yes, yes. I know what you expected. Sometimes it’s fun to be spontaneous.
” Duke Kendall clasped his hand on Matthew’s shoulder, grip tightening with painful force.
“I was so eager to see your progress that I couldn’t wait.
I followed the sound of gunshots, and found my way here.
Introduce me to your family, Lord Lincolnshire. ”
Ice-cold panic oozed down Matthew’s spine. His heart pounded, and every part of him rebelled against the Duke’s touch, but he stilled himself. His eyes darted to the men in his family. Each poised with a stoic expression, eyes alert.
“I know all of you.” Duke Kendall pointed to each of them. “Lord Blackmoor, Mr. Reeves, and a young Mr. Reeves, I presume—all armed.” Duke Kendall’s lips curled up, and he turned his attention to the women. “Ladies, I daresay there isn’t a safer place in the world than this very lawn!”
Duke Kendall released him, and Matthew could only watch as he stalked toward the women under his protection.
First, Duke Kendall held Cassandra’s hand in both of his. Demurely, she curtsied, keeping her gaze on the grass at her feet. “Good morning, Your Grace. I hope you have been well.”
“Mrs. Reeves. As lovely as ever.” He surveyed her, eyes homing in on her midsection. His voice lowered to a wicked tone, and he turned his attention to Seth. “And expecting—well done, Mr. Reeves.”
Seth gave a brick-solid nod and pulled Cassandra behind him. “Yes, I take care of her.”
Duke Kendall moved on to his next target. Blood rushed in Matthew’s ringing ears. Time slowed. Years of subterfuge and careful planning evaporated in an instant.
Duke Kendall cooed like a dove. “You must be Miss Caroline.”
Caroline gave a deep curtsy and lingered. “It’s wonderful to meet you at last, Your Grace.” Rising, she confidently offered Duke Kendall a stunning smile and her hand. He kissed the air above her glove, but didn’t release her.
“Yes, at last,” he agreed. He peered under her bonnet, and his smile widened. “Miss Caroline, those freckles are marvelous. As if someone dipped a paintbrush in gold and dusted you. I see why Lord Lincolnshire hides you.”
Frozen, Matthew forced his breathing into a steady rhythm.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Caroline blushed. Her voice took on a conspiratorial, flirting tone. “You mustn’t hold ill-will toward my brother. He can be overprotective.”
“I don’t blame him.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I would hide you too.”
Matthew smothered the impulse to wrench Caroline away, but then, Duke Kendall walked to the next woman Matthew loved.
Jasmine dropped into a slight curtsy and then rose, meeting Duke Kendall’s eyes outright. His gaze slithered from the top of her head to her shoes and back again, lingering on her bare hands, and Matthew remembered he still had her gloves in his pocket.
“And the Phoenix,” the Duke crooned. “Found your flock, have you?”
Duke Kendall lifted Jasmine’s hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles directly. Jasmine grimaced, and Matthew’s thoughts turned feral, urging him to maim and fight.
Stay still.