Miller, Raine - The Undoing of a Libertine (Siren Publishing Classic) (5 page)

“I consider myself duly warned then.” He grinned saucily at her. “I think you are trying to scare me off, but you should know that I don’t panic easily, especially when my mind is set.”

“So you say, Mr. Greymont.” She curtsied. “Thank you for the escort.” She turned abruptly and left him.

Jeremy watched her go, unable to redirect his eyes. The allure of her hips swaying in cadence with her gown caused his cock to twitch. Like the thing wanted to chase after her. Which, of course, was spot-on really. As he rearranged himself so he could walk without limping, he thought about what she’d told him.
“Things aren’t always what they seem.”

Isn’t that the cry of the day!

Chapter Five

Bring me my bow of burning gold:

Bring me my arrows of desire:

—William Blake,
Milton
(1804)

Rainy weather was fine for shooting birds, but rather a hindrance to the pursuit of nature walks, rides, and other activities a young lady might prefer to embroidery or crocheting lace. Georgina needed to get outside and into the fresh air. Three days of being forced indoors had left her in a less than easy mood, and although needlework had its place, she was profoundly sick of it.

Moving determinedly toward the clearing, she could see the target that the gamekeeper, Mr. Alberts, had set up for her as she’d requested. The bows and extra equipment would also be ready for her. The gruff gamekeeper had always been kind to Georgina, doing little favors for her way back when she was small even, when he knew she would like it. She appreciated his efforts, for she knew Mr. Alberts to be very busy with the shooting going on. More than once, he’d lured Lord Pellton away when the man had come trailing after her during house parties like this one. Georgina made a note to procure some of the special tobacco he liked for his pipe.

She threw up her hand to shield herself when a pheasant flew out from the underbrush right in front of her. The start made her heart pound. She hoped the men wouldn’t venture in this direction for the hunt. Surely this little glade was far enough away from the birding going on that she wouldn’t be bothered. It abutted a ring of sycamore which melted into light forest beyond it and was one of Georgina’s favorite places to shoot her bow. But what if all the birds had fled to this quieter sanctuary and the hunters decided to follow? It would not be safe here in the glade if they did.

Georgina shrugged and continued further on the path, rationalizing that Mr. Alberts would remember she had arranged to come here and could warn the shooters off if they decided to come this way.

A flash of gold flickered in movement directly ahead at her ultimate destination of target shooting. She heard the whoosh of an arrow splitting the air. Georgina realized that she was not alone, and for the second time, started, freezing in step. She felt every thump of her heart, clamoring deep inside her chest, and hated the fact that every stray sound or movement made her jump like a mouse. Now. Would she be like this for the rest of her life?

Someone had preceded her to this clearing. Georgina slowed and moved forward cautiously, staying quiet and out of sight.

It was a man. And he was using her bow to shoot at the target Mr. Alberts had set out for her. Or attempting to try at least. The lack of hits could attest that the man was a terrible shot.

Drawing closer, Georgina was able to discern exactly who had horned in on her sport. Jeremy Greymont. There in his dark-gold jacket, a bright-green neck-cloth, his hair a bit tousled, standing out as a tall twist of contrasting light against the dun of the landscape. Georgina stilled herself so she could observe him in action. Watching Mr. Greymont sight up the bow, with possibly the worst form she’d ever seen, was amusing. So much so, it distracted her from questioning why he was even here at all. He should be off shooting with the other men, shouldn’t he?

“That’s not how you sight a bow,” she announced in a loud voice.

He snapped his head around, the blue of his eyes catching the light.

“You’re holding it wrong.” Georgina could see him flushed red in the face as she came forward.

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are. An English longbow should be held in tight to the shoulder, with your stance perpendicular, and a bracer employed to steady the bow arm.”

“I’ve had no proper instruction.” He dropped his head in greeting. “Miss Georgina, I deduce that you must have requested this equipment be made ready for your exercise today, and here I have intruded upon your arranged activity.” He gave a sheepish grin. “Forgive me. The thing is, I’ve always admired archery, but for myself never took it up or got taught the standard form…” He trailed off, his voice faltering a bit, the following silence awkward.

Georgina stayed quiet and took in the scene.

Mr. Greymont must have felt compelled to cover the silence because after a moment he went right back to justifying exactly why he was here and not off shooting at birds with the men. “My shotgun jammed. I thought to give up birding for the day, and upon my return came upon the glade here, saw the bow and target, and couldn’t help being curious. Before I knew it, I was—”

“Taking up my bow? Trying your hand?” Georgina answered for him. The strangest inclination to rescue Mr. Greymont from his own embarrassment surprised her. Why in the world should she care if he was embarrassed or not? But for whatever reason, it bothered her seeing him struggle to explain himself.

“Yes. You have well and caught me at it, Miss Georgina.”

Georgina stifled the urge to laugh at him. Mr. Greymont standing in the glade, arrows strewn everywhere but in the rings of the target, his slightly rumpled appearance in perfect harmony with the scene of destruction, reminded her of a child attempting to hide a stolen sweet, with the evidence smeared all over his face. The picture of him was too much. A smile cracked, and then a giggle escaped. Georgina had to cover her mouth to keep from losing control. She didn’t want to be rude.

“Ah, I amuse you.”

“In this instance, sir, I am afraid, yes.” Georgina bit the inside of her lip to still the persistent urge to laugh.

Mr. Greymont grinned back at her though, a naughty look that told her he wasn’t all that bothered by her amusement at his expense. “I s’pose I deserve it. I am, after all, a dreadful shot, the proof displayed for all to witness, my dismal talent with a bow.” He held out his arms wide. “I assure you, I can do much better with a gun.” He shook his head back and forth slowly and released another grin. “I plead mercy, Miss Georgina.”

“And mercy you shall have, Mr. Greymont. I’ll never disclose my knowledge of your…ah, skills, as a bowman.” Georgina cocked a brow at him. “But perhaps you’d better take a brief lesson in the basics of proper form, you know, should you find your curiosity getting the better of you again at some other house party you might attend in future.”

“Miss Georgina, I heartily accept your offer. How do we begin?” he asked, far too easily.

“You want me to instruct you, Mr. Greymont? What say you I am no better at hitting the mark than you are?”

“I would be honored to take any bits of wisdom you care to scatter my way, Miss Georgina. And I know you’re skilled because I remember you shooting at targets when you were just a girl. Your accuracy was true then, and you’ve had years and years to hone your talent. I’d bet my horse you’re a crack shot by now. At the very least, a Lady Paramount worthy of master status, or in your case, mistress.” He winked at her.

Mr. Greymont had a naughty streak. What was he playing at? Could an educated man really be so inept at a sport that must be compulsory for someone of his class? He knew enough to know that a “Lady Paramount” was the person appointed to preside at tournaments and had ultimate say. And he definitely looked a little too eager in Georgina’s opinion. Smiling at her, waiting on her answer, like he’d anticipated her offer before she’d made it. He held out his hand to her. The breeze rattled the leaves in the trees above them.

“No need to bet your magnificent Samson, Mr. Greymont. I’ll do it.”

Georgina deliberately clasped her hands behind her back, deciding that two could play at this game, whatever it was, and that sharing in some company could be no harm. It would even be a pleasant change to have a companion while she was out here shooting. Jeremy Greymont was safe.

* * * *

“Before we can start, all these arrows must be collected first,” she told him, her eyes missing nothing as she observed the scattered points. Jeremy caught another amused grin cracking from the corner of her mouth.

God, she was a delight to look at. With her hands clasped behind her back, the most pleasant result of lush breasts pushed forward as if in welcome was much admired. Today she was gowned in a rich brown velvet that wrapped around her lush curves like melted chocolate. He’d bet she tasted just as sweet as the decadent dessert if ever he could get his tongue anywhere onto her skin. The mere thought of tasting even a sliver of her sent the stuff behind the front flap of his kecks to throbbing. Whatever else was at issue between the two of them, Jeremy found himself hugely attracted to this woman. He wanted her.

“Mr. Greymont, I do believe you have emptied the quiver,” she teased as she bent down to gather up points.

I’d love to find my way into your quiver.

“Have I? How many arrows to a quiver?” Jeremy kept his face straight as he asked the question, even though he knew the answer. No, he was enjoying this playful banter with Georgina Russell too much to come clean about his archery skills not being quite so terrible as he intimated. Jeremy wasn’t being entirely truthful, but what harm was there in this? His gun
had
indeed jammed, and by chance he’d come upon her archery equipment laid at the ready. What better way to get to know Georgina than begging for help with his shooting technique?

So in the glade he’d waited until she’d arrived. Jeremy couldn’t have just sat in the grass. He would’ve looked a tremendous sap, so he had shot arrows to fill the time while he waited for her to show up. With as little focus as possible. But with Georgina to help him, hopefully standing very close so he could breathe in her lovely scent some more, his bowman skills might take a swift turn for the better.

All in all, Jeremy would say that things were working out rather well. Today was the first time he’d seen Georgina cheerful and light. And Jeremy quickly decided that a smiling, happy Georgina was well worth any effort on his part.

“Two dozen fills a quiver, and not a hit among them!” she sang back at him.

The laugh Georgina had been suppressing up until now came forth with a clear burst into the autumn air of the glade. Jeremy could tell she had been trying to hold back from laughing outright at him, for she was a lady after all, but the happy sound of her was so lovely, Jeremy felt grateful to have been the person responsible for making it happen. Suddenly struck with the notion that her laughter was a gift, he paused for a moment. Strange. He shook off the sensation and kept retrieving arrows.

“Miss Georgina, I believe you are finding my lack of accuracy to be a great source of merriment. And actually, I did make a hit, but the arrow did not stick. It came off from the target.”

“Ah, well, there’s a name for a point that does that. It’s
called a—”

“Let me guess!” Jeremy blurted, holding up a hand to stop her. “You call it a bounder.”

“No, not a bounder.” Georgina shook her head slightly.

“A jumper then.”

“Wrong again, Mr. Greymont.” Her lips twitched.

“A springer? Tell me it’s called a springer, Miss Georgina.” Jeremy was enjoying himself too much to stop.

“Well, you are certainly full of creative ideas, I’ll give you that, Mr. Greymont, but I am afraid you are still incorrect. The proper term is ‘bouncer.’”

“Ah, bouncer. Right. Bouncer makes good sense, for the arrow bounces off the target without holding fast. Very good.”

Georgina gave him what could only be described as a tolerant look. “So, if we were to assess your performance thus far, we could say you had one bouncer and the all rest were a miss.”