Download File A Shot At The Duke_ A Witty His -... Instant

"I am not poaching," she snapped, retrieving her arrow. "I am practicing for the Midsummer Tournament. My father’s honor—and my own freedom—depends on it."

Penelope looked at the target, then back at the man who had finally made her heart race faster than a hunt. "I suppose that depends on who is doing the seeking." If you'd like to continue the tale, let me know: Should the happen next? Does Lord Ponsonby try to sabotage her? Download File A Shot at the Duke_ A Witty His -...

"And you shouldn't be poaching my deer," Arthur replied, stepping into the light with a smirk that didn't quite reach his guarded eyes. "I am not poaching," she snapped, retrieving her arrow

"I have my moments," Arthur said softly. "But if you win that tournament, you'll be the most sought-after woman in England. Is that truly the 'freedom' you want?" "I suppose that depends on who is doing the seeking

He stepped behind her, his chest inches from her back. He reached around, his large hands steadying hers. The air between them suddenly felt thicker than the summer humidity.

"I am not 'most ladies,'" Penelope said, notches her arrow. "If I win, my father stops trying to marry me off to Lord Ponsonby, a man who has the personality of damp wool."

With a heavy mahogany bow in hand and a quiver of arrows cinched at her waist, she marched into the clearing of the Duke of Ashbourne’s sprawling estate. She didn't notice the Duke himself—the notoriously brooding and impossibly handsome Arthur Vance—leaning against an oak tree just past the practice hay bales.