A Lady Never Surrenders by Sabrina Jeffries Page A

were spread out in a line across the field so that each of their kills would be clearly delineated, but it made it hard to keep track of how many the others had shot.
    The dogs loped back to lay the birds at Stoneville’s feet. Since Jackson had no dogs of his own, his lordship had gamely relinquished the use of them to him. Apparently, Stoneville meant to gain his amusement solely from watching Jackson bait Celia.
    Jackson wasn’t entirely sure why, but neither did he care. He cared only about making sure he shot well enough to beat Celia’s three suitors, to prevent them from gaining the kiss.
    So you can gain it yourself.
    He scowled as they halted in their new spot to reload. Nonsense. But if he did happen to win it, he would treat her like the lady she was. Devonmont was just the kind of joking fellow to be impudent with her in front of everyone. Lyons had already had a taste of her lips, so he might very well think to make his second taste more intimate. And Basto, who already had a fondness for holding her hand, confound the insolent devil—
    Jackson swore under his breath. He was acting like some jealous idiot. All right, so he was jealous, but this wasn’t about that. He merely wanted to keep Celia from making an enormous mistake.
    When she’d tried to get out of shooting, Jackson had realized she was serious about choosing one of these idiots as a husband. Clearly, she thought if she pretended to be some milk-and-water miss, it would help her chances.
    So he’d made sure she didn’t do any such thing. If they were worthy of her, they had to be worthy of the real her, not the pretend one she presented. Personally, he thought them all fools for not seeing she was putting on an act.
    And couldn’t she see that a marriage built on such deceptions would fail?
    No, she was too blinded by her determination to prove her grandmother wrong about her. Well, he couldn’t let her stumble into some idiotic engagement with gentlemen who didn’t deserve her. Especially not after what he’d learned about them.
    “I see you’re no stranger to grouse shooting, Mr. Pinter,” Lyons called over as he, too, reloaded.
    “My uncle took me a few times,” Jackson answered.
    The beaters flushed the grouse. As the birds rose, he and the others fired. He hit another grouse.
    They were piling up. For the competition, Stoneville had designated a time limit of two hours. Jackson wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he would guess from the position of the sun that the end of the first hour was nearing.
    Assuming he got to keep his kills, his aunt would be ecstatic over the abundance of game birds for their table. “Would that uncle be William Norris, the magistrate?” Stoneville asked Jackson as they all trudged forward again.
    “Yes. His friends liked to hunt. Sometimes I went along.”
    “And here I thought you only fired at people,” Celia called over from the other side of him.
    “I rarely need to shoot in the course of performing my duties. But I do have to use my pistol occasionally.” He slanted a glance at her. “Unlike you, my lady, I don’t carry mine for show.”
    Her cheeks pinkened, but she merely sniffed and halted to reload again. So did he.
    He probably should stop tormenting her about her damned pocket pistol, but it still shook him. Powder or no powder, such a weapon could easily provoke a man to attack her.
    Still, Jackson admitted that it probably wouldn’t have that effect on this lot. They didn’t seem the bullying sort, just the coax-a-woman-into-their-bed sort. As for their shooting abilities, Lyons was a good shot, but Devonmont didn’t seem to take the sport seriously. Basto was the big surprise. Clearly he’d had some experience with guns. He was deft in his loading and a decent shot, too. But he wasn’t particularly fast. He kept stealing glances at Celia that were filled with longing and perhaps desire.
    Jackson didn’t like that one bit. When he gave her his report, he would