Chapter 8 #2
“All right, ye can shoot, but I go first.” He took the bow from her and reached over his back for an arrow.
His eyes stayed locked on hers all the while.
He’d learned to shoot from his father and used to be pretty good at it, too.
But ever since his father’s death he hadn’t been able to pick up a bow.
It had reminded him of how guilty he felt that he hadn’t been there to watch his father’s back the night he was killed.
His father had his hands full with his mother in her condition and must have gotten distracted.
He had asked Shaw to go along on the trip with them, but Shaw said no.
If Shaw had been there instead of home with his pregnant wife, his parents would still be alive today.
“I havena done this in quite a while and I’m sure I’m a little rusty,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
He nocked the arrow, feeling the strength of his father flowing through him just by using his bow.
It was comforting as if part of his father were right there with him.
He pulled back the bowstring, loving the creaking noise of the tension of the twine bending the wood.
How often had his father told him while hunting that same excitement flowed through him every time he heard that sound? It was the same for Shaw.
Lining up his mark, he let the arrow fly. It struck the target and the tip of the arrow sank into the second circle. He cursed under his breath, wanting to make a better impression on his new wife by hitting it dead center.
“I’m sure if I had all the practice with it that ye’ve had, I woulda had a better shot.”
“Spring’s turn now,” called out Colina from behind the wooden fence.
Shaw handed the bow to his wife and she took it.
“My arrows, please,” she said, holding out her hand.
He removed the quiver from his back, laying it on the ground. “Here. Take whichever arrow ye want.”
She threw him that stoic look again, and he just wished she’d say something.
Where was that very vocal lassie he’d had in bed last night?
Had he imagined that she’d softened, screamed out in ecstasy, and even cried as he’d held her in his arms?
He liked that girl better. It was unnerving when she pulled the Viking act and not inviting at all.
Without a word, she picked up the quiver and slipped the strap over her shoulder. Then, eying up her target, she studied it with intensity. She stalled so long that he’d almost thought she was going to back out.
“If ye’d rather no’ do it -” He never had time to finish his sentence. In one fluid motion that was so slick he’d barely seen it, she grabbed an arrow from her back, pulled back the bowstring and let the arrow fly. A cheer went up from the crowd.
He turned to see her arrow had hit dead center of the target.
“The target is too close,” he said. “It’s too easy. Move it farther away.” He motioned to Baen who moved the target backward.
He took another shot and, this time, his aim wasn’t as good. His arrow hit the outer edge of the second circle. Still, he shouldn’t worry since there was no way Spring would hit the center mark twice in a row.
Handing her the bow, he mumbled. “This time, dinna take so long to shoot. Ye threw off my concentration.”
“I took too long for yer likin’?” Her long lashes blinked in a silent form of defiance.
“I just meant that -”
She swung around and, in the time that it took to face the target, she’d pulled an arrow from the quiver and shot it toward the target. Another shout went up from the crowd, and damn it, if she didn’t hit dead center for the second time.
The onlookers went wild.
“Spring, ye’re fantastic,” shouted his daughter.
“Colina, keep yer voice down,” he scolded, wishing she were cheering for him instead.
“Sorry, Da,” said the girl, sitting back down on the bench.
“Are we finished?” asked Spring.
“Nay, no’ yet,” he said, feeling as if he had to beat her with at least one shot before she walked away.
He wasn’t going to let his wife be better than him.
He was laird and chieftain. He had an image to uphold.
“Baen, move that target all the way back to the fence and bring me those arrows,” he shouted.
“All the way back here, my laird?” asked Baen, moving the target back as far as it would go before it ended up in the orchard.
“That’s good,” he called out. “Now bring me those arrows because I’m goin’ to show ye how to hit dead center.”
“Didna yer wife already show us that twice now?” asked Baen, handing Shaw the arrows.
“Enough talkin’,” he said, taking an arrow and prepping it.
He concentrated hard this time, envisioning the arrow hitting the center mark just like his father had taught him.
He slowly pulled back the bowstring, holding his arm as steady as possible.
Then he released the arrow and, to his joy, it hit the center mark.
“Aye, that’s more like it!” He held up the bow and got the crowd to cheer for him this time.
Smiling from ear to ear, he handed the weapon to Spring.
“Let’s see ye do that three times in a row.
Although my arrow is dead center, so wherever ye hit the target, I win this round. ”
“Dinna yer mathair ever teach ye no’ to be so cocky?” She snatched the bow away from him, taking her time to choose just the right arrow.
“Pick any arrow,” he told her. “They are all the same.”
“Do ye really think so?” She chose an arrow and looked over to him as she nocked it and pulled back the bowstring. “I canna believe ye think that. Are ye sure ye really helped to make these?”
“Of course, I’m sure. Besides the designs on them, they are all the same.”
“There is only one I can count on for the shot I’m about to make.”
“What are ye talkin’ about?” he asked. “I’ve already seen ye hit the center target twice and ye didna make a big deal about choosin’ an arrow.”
“That’s because this shot is different. Now watch carefully.”
“I’ve been watchin’” he told her. “It’s all the same.”
“Dinna count on it.” She closed one eye and tilted her head and let the arrow fly. The crowd cheered when she, once again, hit the center.
“Nice, but I beat ye that time.”
“Shall we go have a closer look?”
If he wasn’t mistaken, he saw a slight smirk on her face. He walked with her toward the target. Baen ran ahead of them, getting there first.
“Och, ye’re never goin’ to believe this, Laird Shaw. I wouldna believe it if I didna see it with my own eyes.”
“What are ye talkin’ about, Baen?” he asked, smiling and nodding toward the crowd. He waved, just to get everyone to cheer louder, liking how powerful it felt.
“I win, once again,” said Spring, getting his attention.
“What? Nay, ye couldna have won this round. I hit dead center, I’m sure of it.” He pushed Baen to the side to see the target and his jaw dropped open. Spring’s arrow had hit dead center as well, splitting his arrow right down the middle!