Chapter 327: Chapter Three Hundred And Twenty Seven
Rowan laughed loudly, highly pleased by her bravery. He turned to the waiting footman.
"Bring Her Grace a rifle," Rowan ordered smoothly. "The lighter one."
The footman quickly brought over a smaller, polished hunting rifle. He handed it carefully to Delaney. She took the weapon. It was slightly heavy, but she held it firmly, testing the weight against her shoulder.
Rowan stepped directly behind her.
He was unwilling to give up his physical closeness. He pressed his chest flush against her back. He reached his long arms out, wrapping them around her to help her hold the rifle.
"Keep your left hand exactly here," Rowan murmured softly, placing his large, warm hand directly over her small fingers on the wooden barrel. His deep voice vibrated right through her back. "Keep the stock pressed very tightly against your shoulder, or the recoil will bruise your soft skin. I absolutely do not want you bruised."
Delaney swallowed hard. The intense heat of his body pressing against her back, and the masculine scent of his shaving soap, was incredibly distracting. She tried desperately to focus on the open green field.
"I know how to hold it, Your Grace," Delaney said softly, trying to sound completely confident, though her voice shook just a tiny bit from his closeness.
"Alright then," Rowan challenged her in a low whisper near her ear.
He slowly stepped back, giving her enough space to shoot safely.
Rowan nodded to the footman.
"Pull!" Delaney called out clearly.
The footman pulled the lever. The round clay target flew high into the sky.
Delaney raised the rifle. She tracked the fast-moving target with her sharp eyes. She held her breath for a single second, steadying her hands. She pulled the metal trigger gently.
Crack!
The loud gunshot echoed across the field. High in the air, the clay target shattered completely into dust.
"Capital shot, my Duchess," Rowan praised her.
Delaney lowered the rifle. She turned her head and offered him a proud sweet smile.
"Your turn, my Duke," Delaney challenged him brightly.
The footman handed Rowan his heavier rifle. Rowan stepped up to the mark. He raised his weapon quickly, entirely confident in his own abilities.
"Pull!" Rowan shouted.
The target flew. Rowan fired smoothly. The clay shattered completely. He lowered his rifle and offered her a smirk.
"We are completely tied," Rowan noted smoothly. "Best out of five shots wins the wager."
Delaney nodded her head firmly. She took her position again.
The small, friendly competition continued for several long minutes. The sharp sound of gunshots echoed repeatedly over the open Hamilton estate. The smell of gunpowder filled the cool morning air.
Delaney shot her second target perfectly.
Rowan hit his second target with equal ease.
Delaney shot her third target. Rowan hit his third.
They were entirely, completely matched.
Delaney stepped up for her fourth shot. She was so focused. The competitive fire burned brightly in her chest. She raised the rifle, pressed it firmly against her shoulder, and waited.
"Pull!" Delaney called out.
The clay flew. She followed it carefully. She squeezed the trigger. The target shattered perfectly. She lowered the rifle, her chest heaving slightly from the effort and the excitement. She had hit four out of four.
Now, it was Rowanโs turn for his fourth shot.
Rowan stepped forward. He raised his rifle to his shoulder. He prepared to call out to the footman.
But as he stood there, Rowan made the mistake of looking away from the empty sky.
He glanced to his side. He looked at Delaney.
She was standing a few feet away. She looked completely breathtaking. Her dark curls were blowing softly in the morning wind. Her cheeks were deeply flushed from the excitement. Her hazel eyes were wide and shining brightly with joy.
Rowan was entirely captivated. His heart swelled with such a profound wave of love that he completely forgot where he was. He completely forgot about the rifle in his hands, and he completely forgot about the silly wager. He simply wanted to stare at his beautiful wife forever.
"Pull!" Rowan called out, his voice slightly distracted.
The clay target flew rapidly into the sky.
Rowan turned his head back to the field a fraction of a second too late. He raised the barrel of the rifle hastily. He pulled the trigger.
Crack!
The gunshot rang out loudly. But the white smoke cleared, and the round clay target continued to fly completely unharmed through the sky, finally landing gently in the tall grass far away.
Rowan had missed.
Delaney gasped loudly. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth in shock.
Then, she let out a loud, bright laugh.
"You missed!" Delaney laughed happily, pointing her finger at the empty sky.
Rowan slowly lowered his rifle. He did not look angry. He did not look entirely embarrassed. He simply looked at her, a very soft, foolish smile covering his face. He handed the rifle back to the footman, signaling that the game was over.
"It appears that I have completely lost," Rowan admitted smoothly, his deep voice carrying absolutely no regret. He had lost the shooting match, but he had entirely won the greatest prize in the world.
Delaney handed her own rifle to the footman. She turned fully toward her husband.
She was completely breathless from the loud excitement, the cool air, and the sheer thrill of her victory. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her brown wool dress.
She walked quickly across the grass,
completely closing the distance between them. She stopped exactly one inch in front of his chest. She looked up into his warm, adoring eyes.
"So," Delaney asked, her sweet voice breathless and eager. "I beat you fair and square. What is the news, Rowan?"
Rowan did not answer with words immediately.
He reached his large hands out. He wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her flush against him, entirely ignoring the smell of gunpowder on their clothes. He looked deeply into her eyes.
"The news, my Duchess," Rowan spoke softly, his deep voice filled with love, "is that the private country cottage is ready for us."
Delaneyโs eyes widened in delight. She gasped softly.
Rowan leaned his head down. He pressed a very gentle, warm kiss exactly to the tip of her nose.
"We are going for our honeymoon tomorrow," Rowan finally revealed the wonderful surprise.
Delaney let out a joyous sound. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. She buried her face happily into the warm curve of his shoulder.
"Tomorrow?" Delaney asked happily against his coat.
"Tomorrow morning," Rowan confirmed softly, holding her securely against his chest. "Just the two of us. No servants bothering us, no society parties to attend, and no guests to entertain. Only quiet days, completely peaceful nights, and absolutely nothing to do but completely enjoy each otherโs company."
Delaney pulled her head back. She looked at his face.
"That is absolutely the best news in the entire world," She whispered softly.
Rowan smiled. He leaned down and kissed her again.
