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snapped.
    His lips twitched. Counting, the obsessions…they weren’t something he could control. A thought usually formed, then the action followed. One didn’t count for the simple joy of it.
    Still, he thought he might have some fun with her.
    One, two, three…
    “You’re doing it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, plumping up her breasts with the motion. “And I demand you stop this instant.”
    She was magnificent when she asserted herself, he thought. “What am I doing?”
    Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your lips were moving!” She leaned forward and whispered harshly, “You were counting my breasts again.”
    He chuckled. “I hardly need to count them, kitten. Or don’t you remember my tongue exploring their ripe, delectable peaks last evening?” He took a step toward her. “Perhaps I should refresh your memory.”
    Her cheeks flushed a beautiful rose-petal pink and for a moment he was struck by her wild, unadorned beauty. She was extraordinary—beautiful, intelligent, genuine . Never before had he met anyone quite like her, and he had the sudden, inexplicable urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her here, in front of everyone.
    With a huff, she plucked an arrow from the leather quiver beside her, spun toward the target, aimed, and released the arrow. The ferocity of her shot was commendable. Her aim, however, was far less impressive. The arrow launched high into the air, arched over the target, and ripped Mrs. Carson’s bonnet straight off her head, then landed in a patch of grass on the other side of the lake.
    “Oh!” Gabriella winced. “I’m so dreadfully sorry, Mrs. Carson!” She turned to him, deflated. “I’m quite terrible at this.”
    “It was an atrocious hat. Killing it was a mercy.”
    She looked like was going to either laugh or cry, he wasn’t sure which. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. Weeping women frightened him like nothing else on God’s green earth. If he had one weakness, that was it.
    As one of the servants ran to fetch Mrs. Carson’s hat, Nicholas stepped forward. He snatched the arrow out of Gabriella’s hands. “I’ll take that.”
    “That’s mine!” She reached for the arrow.
    When she stepped forward to snatch at the arrow, he grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around to face the target. He placed the arrow into her hands and adjusted its position. “Allow me to instruct you.”

Chapter Five
    T he world was staring at them. At least, that was how it felt. Everyone had stopped to ogle the reclusive duke who’d come in all this state to instruct the tradesman’s daughter in archery. It was humiliating, and not the least bit unsettling.
    “I shouldn’t be speaking to you, not after you dismissed me so abruptly,” she whispered harshly.
    “You’ll excuse my behavior in the library,” he whispered back. “I haven’t the slightest idea how to navigate—” he gestured between them “—this.”
    Her heart lurched. “And what is this precisely?”
    “Whatever we have between us.”
    She pursed her lips. She was still angry with him, to be sure, but as apologies went, it wasn’t too terribly horrid. Indeed it was rather charming in a twisted, misguided sort of way.
    She glanced down at her arrow and released a heavy breath. “Well, are you going to show me how to use this, or not?”
    With a wicked smile, Somerset— Nicholas —pulled her back snug to his hard chest as he guided her arms into the correct position. The achingly intimate contact made her heart flutter and her breath catch. The warmth of his massive body surrounded her. Indeed, it swallowed her whole. She desperately wanted to stand up on her tiptoes, nestle her nose into the crook of his neck and draw in a long, satisfying breath. He’d smell like happiness.
    Happiness?
    Good heavens, where had that idea come from?
    Pushing that perplexing thought from her mind, she focused her gaze on the target.
    He lowered his mouth to her ear and spoke softly. “First, you must