Blackmoore(8)

“The target, as I was saying, is set up, and I believe I have thrown your mother off your scent. Will you come?”

I trembled with anger and shame and wished I could apologize for my mother. But to apologize for her would be to acknowledge her behavior, and I couldn’t do that. I set Cora on the ground. “That is exactly what I need right now.”

I made sure nobody was watching from the nearest windows as Henry and I darted for the woods, Cora at our heels. The clearing was almost perfectly halfway between our two houses. When we reached it, Henry took off his coat and hung it over a tree branch. The target was set up beside the large maple tree. Two bows and two quivers of arrows rested on a large tree stump. Everything looked just as it should—just as it always had every other day we had spent in this clearing practicing our archery.

But I was so angry at Mama that I doubted I could hit anything.

I picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows. Henry stood beside me, watching me in silence. My hands shook with anger. I took a deep breath 21



J u l i a n n e D o n a l D s o n while I lifted the bow and looked at the target. I released the arrow. It flew wide. No surprise, but still I glared at the offending target.

Henry nocked an arrow, pulled it back, and narrowed his eyes as he looked at the target. The sun glinted off his hair. He released the arrow. It hit the target with a satisfying thunk. He never missed.

“Are you ready to talk yet?” he asked.

I picked up another arrow and nocked it while I considered his question. . Staring at the target, I imagined my mother’s cold eyes. “My mother,” I said, releasing the arrow. It hit the outer edge of the target.

Pathetic.

“Of course,” Henry said. “But what has dear Mama done this time?”

His second arrow hit home just as soundly as his first had done.

“She is the most unfeeling mother in creation,” I said, picking up another arrow. “She does not comprehend my dreams, nor does she value my desires. She only wants me to marry. And you know how I feel about that. ” I released the string. This time the arrow buried itself in the grass.

“Indeed.”

“Indeed!” I grabbed another arrow, upset with the arrows for not flying true and at Henry for being so calm when I was so angry and at Mama for not understanding me at all. “In fact, how many times have you heard me vow that I will never marry?”

He smiled, a little half-smile. “How many times? I have not kept count, Kate.”

“Estimate, then.”

He sighed. “Very well. I would estimate two dozen times, at least, since last Christmas. Perhaps another fifty times last year. Maybe a hundred in total.”

I felt accomplished. “And do you believe that I am serious in my intention?”

“Yes, I do.” Henry’s jaw was set as he stared down the arrow at the target.

22



“See? You understand me on this matter, and you are only my friend.

But my own flesh and blood—!”

He flinched, his head jerking to the side to look at me, and his arrow fell off his bow. He lowered the bow and gave me a piercing look, his grey eyes glinting like steel. Then he raised it again and leveled his gaze at the target. “Only your friend? He narrowed his eyes at the target, his pressed lips causing a line to crease in his cheek. “I think I deserve a better title than that.”

“Like what?” I asked, looking at him askance.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He released his arrow. Another solid hit, right on target. “Perhaps ‘The Giver of My Heart’s Desire’?”

An outraged laugh burst from me. “The Giver of My Heart’s Desire?”

A smile crept across his lips. “I will never call you that,” I said, picking up another arrow.

“Why not? I earned it. I think you should call me by that title every time you see me.”

“How do you believe you earned it?” I demanded.

“I gave you your cat, and that is the thing you love most in this world.” He gestured at Cora lying in the grass nearby. “Therefore, I have given you your heart’s desire.”

I scoffed, then drew back the string and released the arrow. It hit the target. Finally. I smiled with satisfaction. “I am not going to call you The Giver of My Heart’s Desire. That is ridiculous.”

Henry looked at me with a satisfied smile. “There. Your eyebrows are back to normal now.”

“You are not supposed to tease me about my eyebrows, remember?

We made that pact five years ago.”

“That was a one-time arrangement, after you tried to shave them off with your father’s razor.” He pulled back the string on his bow, leveling his gaze at the target. Henry’s form was something I had always admired but never more so than now. At age twenty his back was broader, his shoulders stronger than ever before. The muscles in his arms stood out, 23



J u l i a n n e D o n a l D s o n cords of light and shadow. There was that line in his cheek again—that line that was more crease than dimple, and I had to look away. I heard Henry’s arrow hit the target while I bent down and drew the last arrow for myself.

My last arrow flew true, and I breathed a sigh of relief. This was better. I had found my aim again. I set down my bow and walked over to the target with Henry. After prying my arrows loose and gathering the errant ones, I wandered over to the large maple tree that stood on one side of the clearing. It was so tall that its lowest branches began far above my head.