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relax .” His deep, cultured voice reverberated through her, causing sharp tingles to sweep up her spine. She sucked in a breath, remembering his lips between her thighs, and the sweet, heavenly pleasure they’d evoked. “Feel the tension in the string…”
    Oh, she felt the tension all right, but it wasn’t in the string. Every muscle in her body was drawn tight, humming with the vibration of his deep, seductive baritone. Liquid fire licked at her from the inside, pooling deep in her belly, her core, the very center of her.
    Shifting, she readjusted her stance and squinted at the target in the distance.
    “Align the shaft of the arrow with the center of the target.” His tongue rolled over the words shaft and center seductively, wickedly, leaving her with no doubt of his meaning. “If it’s positioned properly, the arrow will penetrate on the first shot.”
    Only he could turn something as mundane as archery into something so wickedly depraved. She shifted again in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure building between her thighs.
    “Hold it there, absorb the sensation, and when you feel you are ready, let go.”
    Images of his head buried between her legs, licking, teasing, flooded her mind. She imagined his shaft taking the place of his tongue, pumping into her, lifting her to the pinnacle of ecstasy…
    Focus, Gabriella! Focus…
    She drew the string back tight, released the arrow, and it shot straight to the center of the target.
    “We did it!” she cried.
    He laughed, his arms still tightened around her. “We are magnificent together.”
    At that precise moment, the bell rang for luncheon, robbing her of the opportunity to duplicate her amazing feat. A servant collected her bow, and Nicholas offered his arm to escort her to the picnic that had been set out on the lawn by the lake.
    Her blood still hummed from the erotic words he’d whispered in her ear, and she found herself searching for an excuse to be alone with him again.
    The picnic was quite intimate, as the guests claimed their spots on the large, yellow blanket that had been laid out. Grapes and strawberries spilled from baskets, and cheese, meat, and bread were arranged in delicious-looking spreads. Gabriella’s stomach grumbled as she sat on the blanket and reached for a plate.
    Nicholas claimed a spot beside his sister, and as far from Gabriella as possible, which nettled. He could sit wherever he wished, of course, but after what had just transpired, she’d hoped he would sit next to her.
    As he sat, several of the unmarried ladies of the party circled him like stalking tigresses, poised to pounce. Three of them plopped down next to him, while the less brave lingered nearby.
    His side of the blanket appeared rather cramped, and he didn’t look pleased about it. Lips pressed into a firm line, he attempted—and failed—to avoid the fluttering women around him.
    Gabriella piled her own plate with bread, cheese, more cheese and grapes. And perhaps one more sliver of cheese, just for good measure. It was her favorite, and she figured she’d grab some before she went absolutely feral. She’d almost taken her aunt’s finger off once. Served her aunt right, though, for coming between Gabriella and her favorite cheese. She didn’t do that again.
    Plopping a cube of said cheese into her mouth, she watched Somerset with interest. His natural scowl had deepened into something far more ferocious, which was saying a great deal. He always had a dark, broody look about him. Now he simply looked miserable, and the slightest bit angry.
    Perhaps she should rescue him. And she would have had he possessed the good sense to sit next to her. He hadn’t, so he was stuck listening to Sarah flutter on about how well her newest bonnet accentuated her neck.
    “Wouldn’t you agree, Your Grace?” She twisted her head this way and that, allowing him to see her neck from every conceivable angle—as though one angle wasn’t enough. Gabriella rolled her