Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The morning air was crisp as Sophie followed Kenneth across the moors, her heart beating a rapid rhythm against her ribs.
The heather swayed beneath a pearl-grey sky, and the scent of morning dew filled her lungs with each breath.
She'd chosen a simple dress for the occasion, one that wouldn't restrict her movement, though now she wondered if she should have worn something more flattering.
Kenneth walked ahead, carrying a bow and quiver of arrows.
She found her eyes drawn to the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his kilt swayed with each purposeful stride.
When he stopped at a natural clearing, Sophie nearly collided with his back, too distracted by her observations to notice he'd halted.
"This spot should do," Kenneth said, turning to face her. His expression was serious, but Sophie caught a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. "We'll start with the basics."
He set up several empty bottles on a distant rock, then returned to her side. "First, ye need to learn the proper stance," he explained, demonstrating by standing sideways to the target. "Like this."
Sophie attempted to mirror his position, but apparently didn't quite manage it. She felt Kenneth step closer, his presence warming her back.
"May I?" he asked, his voice low near her ear.
Sophie nodded, not trusting her voice. Kenneth's hands settled on her waist, turning her body slightly. Each point of contact sent sparks through her, making it hard to concentrate on his instructions.
"Feet shoulder-width apart," he murmured, nudging her feet into position with his boot. "Back straight." His hand slid up her spine, encouraging her to stand taller. Sophie fought to suppress a shiver at his touch.
"Now for the bow," Kenneth said, bringing the weapon around in front of her. "Take it in yer left hand – aye, like that."
He guided her fingers into position on the grip, his calloused hands surprisingly gentle. Sophie tried to focus on his instructions, but found herself increasingly distracted by his proximity, the sound of his voice, the scent of leather and pine that seemed to cling to him.
"Are ye listening, lass?" Kenneth's voice held a hint of amusement.
"Of course," Sophie said quickly, then added with a mischievous smile, "Though I must say, ye're a very distractin' teacher."
Kenneth's hands stilled on hers. "Is that so?"
"Och, aye," Sophie continued, emboldened by the slight uptick at the corner of his mouth. "So stern and serious. One might think ye were teachin' warfare instead of archery."
"This is serious business," Kenneth replied, though Sophie detected a warmth in his tone that hadn't been there before.
"Then why do I see that smile ye're trying to hide?" she teased, tilting her head to look up at him.
"I'm nae smilin'," Kenneth protested, even as his lips twitched upward.
"Nay? Then what do ye call that?" Sophie gestured to his face with her free hand.
"Focus on yer lesson, ye wee hellion," Kenneth growled, but there was no heat in it. He positioned himself behind her again, helping her nock an arrow. "Now, draw the string back to yer cheek."
Sophie complied, very aware of Kenneth's chest pressed against her back as he guided her through the motion. His breath stirred the hair near her ear, making her skin tingle.
"Keep both eyes open," he instructed. "Sight down the arrow to yer target."
"Like this?" Sophie asked, turning her head slightly. Their faces were so close now, she could see the flecks of gold in his amber eyes.
"Aye," Kenneth murmured, his voice rougher than before. He cleared his throat and stepped back slightly. "Now, release."
The arrow flew wide, missing the bottles completely. Sophie let out a frustrated huff. "Well, that was terrible."
"It was yer first shot," Kenneth said. "Try again."
They continued like this for some time, Kenneth adjusting her form with gentle touches that grew increasingly lingering. Sophie found herself missing his warmth each time he stepped away, and perhaps deliberately made small mistakes just to feel his hands guiding her again.
"Ye're doing that wrong on purpose," Kenneth accused after her fifth consecutive wild shot.
"Me?" Sophie affected an innocent expression. "Would I do such a thing?"
"Aye, ye would," Kenneth said, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Ye're trouble, Sophie MacAdams."
The sound of her married name on his lips made her heart skip. "But ye like trouble," she said boldly. "I can tell."
"Can ye now?"
"Mhm." Sophie nocked another arrow. "Just like I can tell ye're fighting nae to smile again."
"I am doin' nay such thing," Kenneth protested, but this time a full smile broke through, transforming his entire face.
Sophie's breath caught. He was beautiful when he smiled, the stern mask falling away to reveal something warm and bright beneath. She found herself staring, the bow forgotten in her hands.
"What?" Kenneth asked, self-consciousness creeping into his expression.
"Ye should smile more often," Sophie said softly. "It suits ye."
A flush crept up Kenneth's neck, but he didn't look away. Something charged filled the air between them, making Sophie's skin prickle with awareness.
"Here," Kenneth said finally, his voice husky. "Let me show ye again."
He moved behind her once more, but this time his touch was different – more deliberate, more intimate.
His hands slid down her arms to position them correctly, but they lingered longer than necessary.
When he helped her draw the bow, his chest pressed firmly against her back, she could feel his heart beating as rapidly as her own.
"Easy now," he murmured, his lips close to her ear. "Take a deep breath."
Sophie tried, but her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to work properly. Every point where their bodies touched felt like it was on fire. She was acutely aware of his strength, of how easily he could pull her into his arms if he wanted to.
"Release," Kenneth commanded softly.
The arrow flew true this time, shattering one of the bottles. Sophie let out a delighted laugh, turning in Kenneth's arms to beam up at him.
"I did it!"
Kenneth's smile matched her own, open and genuine. "Aye, ye did."
They stood like that for a long moment, caught in each other's gaze. Kenneth's hands had come to rest on her waist when she turned, and Sophie found herself wanting to lean into him, to close the small distance between them.
"We should try again," Kenneth said finally, his voice rough. "While ye've got the feel for it."
Sophie nodded, reluctantly turning back to face the targets. But something had shifted between them. Each touch now felt charged with possibility, each shared glance heavy with unspoken words.
As the morning wore on, Sophie found herself falling deeper under Kenneth's spell.
It wasn't just his physical presence, though that was intoxicating enough.
It was the way his stern facade cracked a little more with each smile she coaxed from him.
The way his eyes softened when she succeeded at a particularly difficult shot.
The quiet pride in his voice when he praised her progress.
This was a different Kenneth than the one who prowled the castle halls – softer, warmer, more open. Sophie found herself growing addicted to this version of him, storing away each smile, each laugh, each gentle touch like precious gems.
By the time they finished their lesson, Sophie had managed to hit several more bottles and had drawn more genuine smiles from Kenneth than she'd seen in all their time together. Her arms ached from drawing the bow, but her heart felt full to bursting.
"Ye're a natural," Kenneth said as they gathered the remaining arrows. "With practice, ye'll be a fine archer."
"I had a good teacher," Sophie replied, watching his profile in the strengthening sunlight. "Thank ye, Kenneth. For giving me this chance."
He turned to look at her, his expression open and warm in a way that made her heart flutter. "Ye deserve every chance, Sophie," he said softly. "Daenae let anyone tell ye different."
Sophie felt tears prick at her eyes at his words, remembering all the times Mason had told her she wasn't worthy, wasn't capable. Without thinking, she stepped forward and hugged Kenneth, pressing her face into his chest.
For a moment, he stiffened in surprise. Then, slowly, his arms came around her, holding her close.
Sophie breathed in his scent, memorizing the feeling of being held by him, of feeling safe and valued and seen.
She felt his hand tilt her chin up and her eyes met his for a brief moment before he dipped his head down to gently kiss her lips.
All too soon, Kenneth stepped back, though his hands lingered on her shoulders. "We should head back," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But we'll do this again tomorrow, if ye like."
"I'd like that very much," Sophie said, her heart soaring at the prospect of spending more time with this softer version of her husband.
As they walked back to the castle, Sophie found herself stealing glances at Kenneth, memorizing the way the morning light played across his features. She knew she was falling for him – for the man who smiled at her victories and held her so gently.
It was dangerous, perhaps, to love him when she wasn't sure he could ever love her back. But watching him now, seeing the way his lips still curved in a slight smile, Sophie couldn't bring herself to care about the danger.
For now, it was enough to know that somewhere beneath his stern exterior beat a heart capable of warmth and joy.