Page 58 of A Courtship of Conspiracies
And if he could not protect her every moment of the day, perhaps he could make sure she knew how to defend herself. Should that instruction provide an excuse to hold her in his arms, even for a moment, then all the better.
The future might be precarious, but there was one thing he knew with absolute certainty.
He wanted Kate in his life, however she would allow him to remain.
The morning air was thick, and the cool dampness clung to James’s coat. He walked across the field, his doubts parting with the drifting fog. He approached Kate with sure steps, his entire purpose bound to the woman standing at the water’s edge.
Kate had not noticed him yet. As he reached the lakeside path, he stopped a few feet behind her, clasping his hands behind his back. She was a painting come to life, standing ethereal in front of the misty lake, the pup playing at her feet. He let the sight settle, proof to his racing heart that his worst fear had not come to pass.
“Good morning, Kate.”
The breeze carried his words through the haze. She tilted her face toward him, a smile forming on her lips.
“Good morning, my lord.”
He ignored her pointed salutation. “I confess I was worried when I could not find you in the house,” he told her.
“I could not ignore the call of the birds this morning. The fog over the lake has a poetic appeal, does it not?” She bent to pet the creature who seemed wholly devoted to her. James could relate.
A servant called from the porch, summoning the dog, who let out a bark, then bounded toward the house.
“You always did prefer the outdoors.” She nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath, her face serene.
He cleared his throat, searching for the words to explain his presence without seeming presumptuous. “Given our experiences the last few days, I wonder if you might grant me a small indulgence.”
“And what is that?”
He withdrew his unloaded flintlock pistol from his coat, cradling the weapon in his palm. “I would like to teach you how to shoot.”
Her expression turned skeptical, and a teasing grin lifted the corners of her soft lips. He allowed himself to linger on the sight.
“Youare going to teach me to shoot?”
He grimaced, attempting to hide his wounded pride. “Hugh has told you of my reputation, I gather. But I swear I am capable of handling a pistol. If you permit it, I would like to show you the proper handling of the weapon, and later, provide you with a pocket pistol of your own.”
She considered his offer with wary silence.
“Trust me, Kate. I am not trying to keep you from danger, only making certain you are prepared to face it.”
He did not know what assurance she sought, but the doubt soon vanished.
“Very well,” she said at last.
He pocketed the pistol and offered his arm. “Perhaps we can use those trees as targets,” he said, gesturing toward a small grove just ahead.
Kate nodded in agreement. They walked toward the grove until they stood about ten yards out from the tree line. He was confident of his aim at such a short distance. He had no wish to appear like a complete fool in her presence.
He explained the mechanics of the pistol and was gratified that she listened with rapt attention. If she chose to live in the shadows, then at least she would do so with every advantage. He moved with practiced efficiency and loaded the weapon.
“Right now the pistol is at half-cock, which should prevent it from firing. Perhaps it would be easiest for me to demonstrate the steps, and then you might try with some assistance?” he asked.
She nodded. Extending his arm and tucking his other arm behind his back, he pulled the trigger. The pistol flashed, and the report echoed through the mist as the ball struck the center of the nearest tree. Satisfaction surged through him, along with a touch of male pride. “Are you ready to try, Kate?”
“I believe I am.”
She moved back to give him room as he went through the steps of reloading the pistol. He gestured for her to take his place, then moved directly behind her. The scent of orange blossoms filled his senses, a sweet contrast to the sharp tang of gunpowder.
He reached around her to settle the pistol in her hand, far too aware of her closeness. He was eager for the excuse to guide her through each movement. “Now, the first thing you will need . . .”
