The Infamous Rogue
“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 seem...ed 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.MoreLess
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