Lady Hawk's Folly by Amanda Scott

for some reason. Or fear that I might lose my breeches. I did not think you would be so good.” He only chuckled again, and she turned back to the target, taking a moment to steady her concentration. Then, nocking her arrow, she lifted the bow, drew, and released as she exhaled. The second arrow sped straight to the center of the gold. She handed the bow to Hawk.
    When they moved back to fifty yards, Mollie was still three points ahead, but once again her first shot struck red. Though her second went true, when Hawk’s first shot sped to the gold, she grimaced, barely refraining from stamping her foot. But he had already nocked his second arrow and she didn’t dare make the slightest noise. It, too, struck gold. The match was now dead even, and it stayed that way until they each had only two arrows left to shoot. Mollie took the bow from Hawk, nocked her first, and sped it on its way. It went true. Breathing a little easier, she nocked the second. When it, too, lodged in the center circle, she handed the bow to her husband.
    Hawk’s first arrow landed beside Mollie’s. She gritted her teeth. A tie would be as good as a loss to her, for had she not said she would put off her breeches for good if she did not win? Hawk’s last arrow thumped into the target. He let out a long breath, and Mollie swore.
    “I won’t take your ten points, either, damn you,” she said. He flicked a glance at her, his lips drawn together.
    “I thought your eye was better than that,” he said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “That last shot of mine is out.”
    As they drew nearer the target, she could see that he was right. The arrow had lodged in the target at an angle. From a distance it had looked to be in the gold, but it was not. It was on the line between the two colors instead. Mollie chuckled. “Perhaps I will accept your ten points after all,” she said sweetly.
    “We’ll have no gloating if you please,” Hawk said, grinning back at her. “A wife who wears pants is enough punishment for any man.”
    “Well, you shoot better than I expected,” she confessed. “I was afraid for a moment or two that I should have to give them up.”
    “You needn’t. I make good my wagers, though I’d take it kindly if you would refrain from coming here alone after this. You may keep your breeches, but next time you come out to practice, bring your groom.” He turned away, striding toward the butt to collect their arrows, leaving Mollie to stare after him, half-amused, half-angry. Her first inclination was to point out to him that he was dictating to her again, but she thought better of it. It was well within his power to forbid her coming to the meadow at all. Besides, she had won a victory, and it was no small victory at that. She suspected that it went much against the pluck with him to give in to her so gracefully, especially since he had clearly thought he was merely humoring her.
    Chuckling a little to herself, she followed him and took the arrows as he handed them to her to replace in her quiver. Then, when she would have turned toward the horses, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
    She looked up at him, puzzled. “Sir?”
    “Don’t go yet, sweetheart.”
    “Was there something more you wished to say to me? You never said why you came after me.”
    “I merely grew weary of accounts and crop yields and wished for pleasanter diversion. Your groom said you were here.” His voice had lowered, and there was an intimate note in it now that brought warmth to her cheeks. Her eyelashes fluttered a little, as though she would look away from him, but his hand cupped her chin. “Have you any notion what the sight of you in that outfit does to a man?” he asked gently.
    “It has never seemed to disturb your brothers,” she replied, deeply conscious once again of the way his voice and touch stirred her blood.
    “They both regard you as a sister,” he pointed out. “I am glad, however, that neither Jamie nor Breck has been