Black Diaries

69. Shooting Lessons

To loud cheers from the multitude, Lord Farleigh led everyone outside. The servants were already at the doors, opening them wide so we could step out into the bright morning sunshine. In passing, every man and woman was handed a rifle by his personal attendant. Only I, who didn't have a personal attendant, didn't get a gun. I wasn't particularly worried about this. Except for shooting myself in the foot, I wouldn't have known what to do with it anyway.

So I watched while everyone else spread out across the meadow. There was some sort of contraption set up on one side, facing away from the house. Mac ran down to it and fiddled with the controls, while Dan raised his rifle.

"Ready?" Mac asked.

"Yes."

"All right, dear brother. On the count of five. One, two..." Suddenly, Mac slammed his hand down on a button. "Bird away!"

Something shot from the contraption, and Dan raised his rifle with a smirk. "Cheater!"

The rifle went off, and the grin on Dan's face widened. "Kill! I've got a kill!"

At those words, my eyes widened. Kill? I thought they had promised...!

Frantically, I searched for the prone, bloody form of a little bird. But all I saw were a few splintered pieces of clay.

"What the...!"

My beloved husband cleared his throat right behind me. "We shout 'bird's away' when we fire a clay pigeon, and 'kill', when we hit. I should perhaps have mentioned that before we came out here."

I threw him a glare, while the others tried to conceal their chuckles at coughs. "Yes. You probably should have."

"Just out of curiosity," Dan asked, ambling over with a smirk on his round face. "What would you have done to me if I'd really shot a poor little songbird?"

I gave him a look of which Medusa would have been envious. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

He pretended to shiver in fear. "P-please! D-do not h-harm me!"

"I'll think about it," I sniffed.

"Come on." Mac clapped his brother on his back. "It's my turn."

"P-please brother! P-protect me from this d-dangerous m-madwoman!"

"Oh, shut up and give me the gun!"

It wasn't long before they were all merrily shooting at clay pigeons, keeping score and placing bets. I was the only one on the sidelines, being the only one without a gun. I didn't particularly mind or even notice. I was having fun enough watching everyone have a good time.

Someone else noticed, though.

"Where's your gun, my Lady?" my husband inquired, sidling up to me.

"I don't have one."

"Liverich didn't give you one?"

"No. But it's no problem. I wouldn't know what to do with one, in any case."

His eyebrows, in genuine surprise. "You don't know how to shoot?"

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch. "Oh, I know how to shoot—just not how to hit the target."

The answering grin that spread over his face was as beautiful as it was devious. "Well—that's easily taken care of."

"What do you mean?" I asked suspiciously.

He moved before I could even blink. In an instant, his arms were around me from behind, his rifle resting nestled into the crook of my arm, and his hard chest pressing into my back. I struggled to get free, but his strong arms were like iron fetters around me.