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“If I’m not mistaken, after we round the bend here, we’ll reach a small, stone bridge. Is that right?” she asked, hoping no one noticed the breathless quality of her voice.

Zeke had begun lightly caressing her knuckles. Though they both wore gloves, the stroke of his fingers created a charged awareness in her. She felt flushed and feverish even in the fresh morning air.

“That’s correct,” he and Caden answered simultaneously.

Soon they crossed over the bridge.

Caden leaned forward to loudly whisper, “Observe the bridge we shall not discuss at this time.”

Kitty laughed aloud, enjoying the ribbing at Zeke’s expense. .

“Ouch,” Caden said a moment later.

“These family outings are so much fun,” Randall announced to no one in particular.

“I’m not sure Lady Kitty would agree, Randall. Unless she considers one sibling kicking the other for no apparent reason, fun,” Caden replied.

“She’ll get used to us,” Zeke quipped.

Which was the absolute worst thing he could have said. Because she knew, even if he hadn’t worked it out yet, she wouldn’t. She would never have the chance.

***

Kitty yanked off her earmuffs and squinted to see the target through the gun smoke.

“I say, you’re a crack shot, Lady Kitty.” Caden half-shouted since all their ears were ringing, even with the use of protection. “I’m duly impressed.”

“So you keep mentioning,” Zeke tried to mutter, though the intended effect was lost in as he had to speak loudly enough to assure he’d be heard.

She sent Caden a brilliant smile. “My shooting lessons seem to have paid off.”

She wondered if any besides her had noticed Zeke’s increasingly dour mood, or what lay at the root of it. Wounded male pride.

All morning he’d attempted to charm her, engage her in conversation, stand close enough to touch her. The small of her back, her elbow.

Once, while the other two men argued over a shot, he twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. “Kitty. Why does it seem like you’re avoiding me?”

Because I am? But she couldn’t say that.

Nor could she explain that being this near to him made the pain of knowing their relationship had reached its end ten times worse.

That his sweet attentions made her ache almost intolerable.

Instead, she shook her head in feigned ignorance, and promptly inserted herself into Caden and Randall’s conversation.

After that, he’d taken the hint, while letting her know he hadn’t liked the message.

Well, too bad. With one little word, he could fix the whole bloody problem. Love. But no. He only wanted her.

“I knew I should’ve had you on my team,” Randall complained, distracting her from her morose thoughts. He planted his hands on his hips and eyed the four targets. “Although I feel I must point out, once again, I haven’t had much practice of late as I’ve—”

“—been city bound,” Zeke finished for him.

“You’re not doing so badly.” Giving Randall’s shoulder a pat, Kitty added, “Your score almost equals Caden’s, and his score is only a tad below mine.” She refrained from mentioning Zeke’s score, as he’d left them all in the dust.

“Yes, not so bad at all. Just because you’re being squarely beaten by a female. You’re at least hitting the target. Most of the time,” Zeke said.

Caden hooted with laughter and clapped the viscount on the back.

Randall shot the brothers affronted looks.

“Caden, do you realize you and I will have to pay both Zeke and Kitty a forfeit? Did we ever discuss prizes?”

He paused to reflect, then aimed a sly smile at Zeke. “I have a capital idea. How about you claim sole right to the forfeits again, and demand kisses from Kitty? By the by, did you ever collect on that debt?”

Zeke slanted Kitty a heated glance, and to her mortification, appeared to be considering answering Randall, the rogue.

Kitty deliberately turned her back on the three of them and approached the staging tables. “I’m positively parched.”

She bypassed the first table, laden with boxes of unused bullets and pistols they’d fired, and went straight for the dripping pitcher of ice-cold lemonade sitting like a beacon on the refreshment table.

She waved off the approaching footman with a smile, and filled one of the four crystal glasses. “Lemonade anyone?”

Whistling a carefree tune as if he hadn’t just stirred the proverbial pot, Randall rummaged in his sack. “I do need a beverage, but I don’t care for lemonade.” He pulled out a large, holstered pistol and set it on the table before brandishing a shiny silver bottle.

“I’m for that.” Caden rubbed his palms together.

“I could definitely do with a drink,” Zeke said sourly.

“Ladies first.” Randall offered Kitty what she now saw was an ornate silver flask. “If she’s game.”

Holding her lemonade in one hand, she accepted the flask with the other. “Thank you.” She took a dainty sip. The horrid liquid burned its way down. “Delicious,” she choked, and forced down another sip. The second heralded an uncontrollable coughing fit.

“That’s the spirit,” Caden said. “Allow me.” He moved toward her, arm raised to administer a helpful pat on the back.

Zeke beat him to it, moving with catlike speed.

After several thumps, she sidled out of his reach. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said with a glare.

Caden took a healthy swallow of the spirits. “Zeke?” He held the flask out to Zeke who took the container with a grunt of thanks.

The early afternoon sun shone on his golden mane as he threw back his head for a long draught. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.

She tore her gaze away.

“I think it’s time we go in,” Zeke said.

She felt his stare on her. As if she had no choice in the matter, her gaze met his. Heat, and promise, and something volatile swirled in the blue depths of his eyes.

One thing was certain. Her time was up. They would talk once they arrived back at the house, and then it would be over between them. Over before it even began.

Deliberately, she shifted her attention to the viscount—and stalled. “Lord Randall, I see you’ve brought another firearm. Rather larger than the ones I’ve handled. Quite impressive really. Might I have a closer look?”