“Aye, I know the Blaire we knew as children was that way, but perhaps she’s changed.”
“She hasna. Because the lass ye have married isn’t Blaire.” Arran could sense Eoin’s temper flaring as he finished his sentence, and he marched over in front of his brother to stop him from pacing back and forth.
“What the hell are ye talking about, Arran? Ye are making no goddamned sense, and ye havena been for some time. I know that ye are still grieving for our father, but ye have to stop drinking so much. It’s beginning to addle yer thoughts.”
“I’ve no been drinking today, Eoin. I know what I’m saying sounds foolish, and I canna make sense of it myself, but this lass is no Blaire.”
“Just because she spent part of a day around children doesna mean a stranger has replaced Blaire. God, listen to what ye are saying, Arran. Ye’ve gone and lost yer mind.”
“I havena. Kip also told me that ye dinna even end up taking Sheila to the village, because Blaire could no ride her. Ye know Blaire can ride well, Eoin.”
“Aye, we left her at the stables, but only because she wanted to share a horse with me.”
Arran rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall behind him. “Did she tell ye that?”
“No, but ye are no the only one who can sense what a lass wants, Arran. Doona mention this conversation to me again, aye? I’m worried for ye, brother. Perhaps ye need to go away for a few days. I believe Kip is about to make another trip to bring back another horse or two for the stables. Go with him, and doona drink while ye are gone.”
“Aye, I’ll go. I canna stand to be around ye when ye refuse to see what’s right in front of ye. All I ask is that ye watch her. She doesna talk like Blaire either. If ye’d only pull yer head out of yer arse! Test her. Take her to do something ye know Blaire was good at as a child, and see if she succeeds.”
With that he turned and left, leaving Eoin to think about all that he’d said.
Chapter 19
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?”
*