Page 21 of Love Beyond Time (Morna’s Legacy #1)

I was going to throw up. There was no doubt about it whatsoever. I was about to be expected to string, or whatever the crap you do, a bow and arrow and shoot the damn thing right in the middle of the target.

When Eoin knocked on my door this morning shortly after breakfast, I’d been excited.

It was unusual for me to see him after breakfast, and with progress moving so slowly in the spell room, I was happy for any excuse to keep me from my work.

That is, until he asked me to go shooting with him and proceeded to tell me over and over how wonderful I’d been at it as a child, and how he and Arran never wanted go shooting with me because they knew I would beat them ruthlessly.

The gig was definitely up. The shit had certainly hit the fan. And by tonight, I was absolutely positive I would be locked away again where I’d been a few weeks ago.

It’s not that I was in bad shape. I did try to drag myself to the gym, one, sometimes two whole times a week.

But jogging a mile had nothing to do with maneuvering this huge wooden contraption in such a way that it would send an arrow soaring through the air.

I seriously doubted I could even pick the thing up off of the ground.

“Well, that was a fairly good shot, but I have no doubt ye can beat it.”

He flashed one of those smiles that made my muscles feel weak—exactly what I didn’t need at the moment—as he stepped out of the way to let me take my place in front of the target. “Here ye go, Blaire.”

I gripped the bow unsurely, sighing with relief when I found it wasn’t as heavy as I’d first expected. My hands shook as I fumbled with the arrow, trying my best to mimic Eoin’s movements exactly.

Pulling back, I released the arrow high into the air. Two seconds later, it unceremoniously landed three feet in front of me. I shut my eyes in defeat, only to hear Eoin’s laughter from behind me.

“Ach, lass. Has it been a long while then since ye went shooting?” He came up behind me and gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps my memories are wrong about how good ye used to be at this.”

“I suppose they probably were. Best if I just watch ye shoot.” I tried to back away, but his hands on my shoulders held me in place.

“Nay, lass, I wasna wrong. It’s just nerves is all. Give it another go, aye?”

Reluctantly and, with the most unpleasant look on my face that I could manage, I reached for another arrow and went about shooting it off once more.

It hit the target right in the middle.

“What? Yes! No freakin way!” I jumped, tossing the bow to the side as I shot my hands up in the air, realizing too late that I’d let my language slip and that I must have looked like a buffoon as I leapt gleefully up in the air.

Eoin cocked his head and looked at me with a confused expression. “What did ye just say lass? ‘Freakin’?”

I fumbled for an explanation. “No, I just made a noise, a happy noise for hitting the target. I’m surprised is all.”

“Why would ye be surprised, lass? Ye have always been good at this. Here, let’s take turns shooting a few more. Aye?”

* * *

They continued to take turns shooting arrows until all that they’d brought stuck out of the target. After the first one, Blaire had hit every single one right in the center.

Eoin had expected her to excel. That’s why he’d asked her to go shooting, so that he could prove Arran’s ridiculous theory wrong. But why did he feel so surprised?

He knew all that Arran had suggested was impossible, but just to humor him, shouldn’t he test her in some other way as well?

A fair number of lasses in the Highlands could shoot a bow and arrow decently, and he knew there were always a few people who could succeed at anything at their first try.

Perhaps Blaire was one of those naturally gifted people?

As they gathered up their mess and began the half-mile trek back to the castle grounds, Eoin thought of a few questions that he knew would help put his own mind at ease, and hopefully put an end to his brother’s ridiculous notions.

“Blaire, do ye remember the time ye shot me in the arse? Did ye really think it necessary? All I did was tell ye that you could no come down to the village with me and Arran.” He turned to watch her closely, hoping she would correct him.

He knew why she’d really shot him. His father had spent what seemed like half a day explaining to him why he was never to speak to a lady in such a hurtful way ever again.

“Nay, Eoin. That isn’t why I shot ye, that day. I shot ye because ye told me I was the ugliest lass that ye’d ever seen, and ye’d rather kiss Griffin’s arse than be married to me someday. It was the summer we walked in on our fathers discussing the betrothal.”

“Aye. That’s right. I do apologize, Blaire. I was young and foolish. At that age, I’d rather have kissed Griffin’s arse than any lass.” He laughed, thinking himself foolish for giving Arran’s notion any thought.

As they reached the castle grounds and Eoin stashed their equipment away, he thought of one last question as Bri turned to make her way up to her room in the castle. “I canna remember which ear it is that yer father canna hear from. Which is it?”

“It’s his right.”

As she turned and walked inside the castle, Eoin felt his heart drop into the deepest depths of his stomach.

He knew it had always been her father’s left ear.