Page 18 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T he morning air was crisp and carried the fresh, clean scent of rain-soaked earth. The grass gleamed a richer green, every leaf and blade brightened by yesterday’s storm. The gardens and orchards buzzed quietly with a handful of guests, but Edward scarcely noticed them. His stride was steady as he made his way toward the copse of trees, his attention focusing on the slender figure standing alone, a bow in her hand, her gaze sharp with quiet determination.

Lady Olivia was practicing.

He had heard as much from Lady Lansdowne, who had remarked upon Lady Olivia’s diligence with a knowing look. Lady Lansdowne had suggested, none too subtly to Edward, that a gentleman with more skill in the sport ought to assist her.

Edward had already planned to.

He strode toward Lady Olivia, his boots making soft impressions in the damp earth. She stood with her back to him, her focus entirely on the distant target. The morning sunlight caught in the waves of her unbound hair, the bonnet that had been neatly tied beneath her chin nowhere in sight.

“You’re quite dedicated to this sport,” Edward remarked as he approached, hands clasped behind his back.

Lady Olivia startled slightly, and her arrow went askew. She turned, offering him a small, pleased smile. Her cheeks were already flushed from exertion. “I am determined to improve.”

He arched a brow. “Lady Lansdowne said you were practicing, but I hadn’t expected you to be so diligent.”

Her lips twitched. “It feels important to conquer that second and third arrow.”

Edward understood her meaning immediately. His admiration deepened. She wasn’t merely speaking of archery—she was speaking of the wounds that had lingered in her heart.

“You’ve done an excellent job of that already,” he said softly.

She exhaled a small laugh. “I was speaking in actuality, not metaphorically.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Ah, then by all means, let us perfect your aim.”

She narrowed her eyes in playful suspicion. “Can you actually help me better than last time? I seem to recall no improvement after your last attempt.”

Edward smirked. “Perhaps I was too distracted to be of any real assistance.”

Lady Olivia scoffed but allowed him to step beside her.

She raised the bow, gripping it with elegant but uncertain fingers. Edward shook his head. “No, not like that,” he murmured, stepping closer, his chest nearly brushing against her back. “May I?”

She sucked in a breath and nodded.

His hands covered hers, adjusting her fingers against the bowstring, moving her elbow slightly higher. Her hair tickled his jaw as he bent his head close. She smelled of lavender and something faintly citrus, as if she had been near fresh oranges earlier in the morning.

“You mustn’t hold your breath too soon,” he advised, his voice lower than intended.

She immediately exhaled, her lips parting slightly, and he caught the faintest pink hue rising along her cheeks.

Edward swallowed.

Heavens, she was a vision.

Not in the contrived way of the other women at the house party, who angled themselves just so, fluttered their lashes at him, and laughed at things barely amusing. In a world of practiced charms, she was something altogether genuine—and all the more beautiful for it.

Lady Olivia’s beauty came from her unguarded moments—the way she bit her lower lip in concentration, the way her brow furrowed in determination, the way her laughter came only when she truly meant it.

“Steady,” he murmured, his fingers still guiding hers. He helped her line up the arrow. “Once you have your target in sight, pause, hold your breath, and release your hand without moving the front of your bow.”

She nodded, barely breathing now, her focus entirely on the target.

Then she released the arrow.

It soared through the air, striking the edge of the target—far closer than before.

She gasped, her eyes going wide with exhilaration.

“I did it!”

Before he could think, she had flung her arms around him, still clutching the bow awkwardly.

Edward stilled, then caught her instinctively, his hands settling at her waist. She was warm against him, her laughter light against his chest, and something shifted deep inside him—something irrevocable. “You did an excellent job.”

Slowly, she tilted her head back to look up at him, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted with breathless excitement.

Their eyes locked.

The space between them seemed to pulse, charged and fragile.

For one heartbeat, then another, neither of them moved.

And then, with a tremulous sort of bravery, she lifted her hands to his chest—not to push him away, but to smooth the front of his jacket where her sudden embrace had rumpled it.

Her fingers brushed the fabric lightly, straightening his cravat with a small, almost unconscious touch.

Edward’s breath caught.

Without thinking, he reached up in return, brushing a stray wisp of hair from her temple, his fingertips lingering against her soft skin.

She did not pull away.

Instead, she remained there in his arms, her gaze steady on his, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

“That was a surprise,” she murmured, her voice low and a little unsteady.

Edward managed a smile, though his heart was thundering. “Yes. Indeed.”

She dropped her hands but did not immediately step away.

Gravely, almost reverently, Edward bent his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead—right where her hair brushed against her brow.

Lady Olivia stilled, her fingers tightening briefly against his jacket.

For one sweet, aching moment, neither of them moved.

Then, slowly, she drew back, her cheeks still faintly flushed.

Edward opened his mouth to say something—he hardly knew what—but her gaze shifted over his shoulder, her expression tightening.

He turned slightly and saw what she had already noticed: three figures approaching from the direction of the orchard—two ladies and a gentleman, laughing and chatting as they made their way toward the archery grounds.

Olivia’s hand fell from his jacket. She straightened, smoothing her skirts with an almost self-conscious air.

“I believe,” she said softly, “that we are about to have company.”

Edward offered his arm more formally. “Shall we continue, then? It would be a shame to waste such promising improvement.”

A smile flickered at her lips—small, but genuine.

“Yes,” she said, gathering herself. “Indeed.”

They turned back toward the targets, and Edward retrieved a fresh arrow for her. This time, he kept a more proper distance, standing slightly behind and to her side rather than guiding her hands as he had before.

Lady Olivia nocked the arrow, her movements a touch more composed now, though he could see the faint tremor of nerves in her fingers.

“Remember where your last arrow struck,” Edward said quietly, offering instruction without the intimacy of touch. “Adjust your aim just slightly to the left.”

She nodded, her brow furrowing in concentration—the expression he was coming to know, and admire, far too well.

She released the arrow.

It struck closer to the center than before, earning a quiet, pleased gasp from her.

“Well done,” Edward said, unable to keep the warmth from his voice. “You’re learning.”

Her eyes lit with a spark of pride. “Again?” she asked.

He retrieved another arrow and handed it to her, allowing his fingers to brush hers only briefly—a touch that made something in his chest tighten anew.

“Again,” he agreed.

They practiced steadily, the others taking their own turns farther down the range, laughing and occasionally missing the targets altogether.

With each shot, Lady Olivia improved—small, deliberate adjustments that brought her closer to the center each time.

Edward offered a quiet suggestion now and then, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

“Use your last arrow as a guide,” he murmured. “Note where it landed, and shift your aim accordingly.”

She nodded, her lips pressed together in determination.

Another shot.

Closer still.

Pride—sharp and unfamiliar—rose in Edward’s chest as he watched her.

Not simply because she was improving, but because she listened, she adapted, she persevered.

There was something remarkable in that—something he could not quite name but felt all the same.

Once they finished their practice, the others talked with them on the way back to the manor. Edward tried to engage in the conversation with everyone, but his mind was still thinking about the moment before the others had arrived. For the first time in a long while, he felt completely and utterly undone. His chest tightened with something dangerously unfamiliar.

He had nearly kissed her.

And what terrified him most was how much he had wanted to.