Free The Infamous Rogue by Alexandra Benedict Page B

mismatched step forward. “A proper gentleman wouldn’t be in the woods with a woman, unchaperoned.”
“Is that what the earl would do? Summon a chaperone? I’m not the earl.”
No, he was not the earl. The earl didn’t shake her senses and burn her blood and rattle her thoughts. The earl wasn’t a senseless brute. The earl didn’t lie!
Sophia snatched the other stocking again.
An echo of voices circled the air.
She paused. “It’s the earl!” She recognized the man’s sprightly laughter, followed by the natter of females. She looked at the pirate captain with alarm. “Hide!”
“Why?”
“We can’t be alone together.” She brandished the loose stocking. “I’m half dressed!”
“Then I suggest you hide.”
She balked. “I thought you were a gentleman?”
“You just disabused me of that notion, remember?”
There was no time to quarrel; the voices approached.
Sophia cursed inwardly and cut James a dark glance before she picked up her shoes and moved deeper into the woods, squatting behind a bush.
“I can still see you,” he said with a measure of snide humor.
Sophia gnashed her teeth and crouched even lower.
“Don’t you feel ridiculous, sweetheart?”
She shushed him.
The voices more noisy, she also heard the sound of footsteps and swooshing skirts.
“Captain Hawkins!”
Sophia quietly struggled with the last stocking. She loathed the black devil for putting her in such a humiliating position. If only he would drown…no, she wished him shipwrecked, marooned on an island—inhabited by cannibals.
“Good day, Lord Baine,” said James. “I apologize for being so late.”
“Not a’tall, Captain. Let me see you settled.”
“Thank you, but a footman already took my bags.”
“Well then…You remember Lady Lucas?”
“How could I forget?” James bowed. “My lady.”
“Captain Hawkins,” the matron returned stiffly.
“And these are…”
The earl introduced the other chaperones as Sophia slipped on her shoes. But in such a cramped position with branches poking her body and leaves brushing her face, she wasn’t minding her surroundings and—
A twig snapped.
The earl looked into the woods. “What was that?”
Sophia swallowed a groan and removed her foot from the cursed stick.
“A skittish creature, I suspect,” said James. “The woods are full of mischievous nymphs.”
The earl chuckled. “Fancy a game of archery, Captain?”

 
    James eyed the target.
In the summer heat, the red center pulsed. He focused on the bright spot until it slowly morphed into a beating heart.
He released the arrow.
It struck dead middle.
“Good shot, Captain.”
James lowered the bow, the earl’s praise hollow. He never missed a mark. “Thank you, my lord.”
As the earl nocked an arrow to the bowstring, James waited. A short distance away was a twisted oak with sagging branches—and a gaggle of females cooling in the shade. So stiff and formal and grotesque, the party seemed to guard their land, their house, their blood like stone gargoyles. They glared at James with warning, threatening him to keep clear of their closed circle of friendship.
The very thought that he wanted any part of their cold and foul cabal was repulsive, and he breathed deep through his nose to keep his fingers from crushing the bow in his hand.
James dismissed their snooty glances, maintained a taut posture, and fixed his eyes firmly on the ringed target.
The earl aimed. There was a soft whistle of air before the arrow struck the target one section below James’s win. It earned the earl only eight points instead of ten…yet a crescendo of applause from the ladies on the picnic blanket rumbled.
“Bravo, Lord Baine!” they cheered.
Maximilian appeared sheepish under the pulsing ovation. He offered his hand in respect. “I concede defeat, Captain Hawkins. Well played.”
James grasped his hand. “You are a worthy opponent, my lord.”
There was a small equipment table positioned nearby. Maximilian returned the bow to the table