“Aye, that you are,” Elise agreed wholeheartedly. Sammy was the cleverest escape artist she had ever encountered. For him to almost hit the hay bale on his first few shots was highly impressive.

The third time Sammy nocked his arrow, he followed her instructions. His brow furrowed when he took careful aim. He lowered the bow, then let go of the string. Twang. The arrow sped over the field and imbedded itself on the outer portion of the target.

“Pure barry!” Elise exclaimed in admiration. “That’s some shooting, Sammy.”

Sammy glanced at her, his expression somewhat skeptical.

“I daresay you’ll hit that bullseye in no time at all.” Elise handed him another arrow.

The next time, Sammy’s arrow sailed right over the bale of hay.

“Don’t be in such a hurry. Concentrate,” she coached.

This time, Sammy listened intently and followed her instructions. The arrow sprang from the bow on a direct course and imbedded itself inside the second ring.

“Well done!” Pleasure sang though Elise’s veins. “How would you like to take that target home to show your father?”

“Yes. I mean, aye,” Sammy said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can we stay longer? I want to shoot more arrows.”

“Not today. We have to get back to the castle. I’ve other things to do.”

Sammy made a face, clearly not wanting the fun to end.

“Would you like to do this again tomorrow?” she asked to soften the blow.

“What if it rains?”

“I’ll put waterproof clothes in the 4x4. We’ll be fine unless it pours. If it does, we’ll move our target practice inside one of the barns. We can’t let the weather stop us or no one would ever accomplish anything in Scotland.” Elise took the quiver of arrows and finger tab from Sammy.

He trotted out to the shooting field and gathered up their used arrows, then unclipped the target. “Is my father good with bow and arrows?” Sammy asked when he rejoined Elise.

“I don’t know, but he’s an excellent sharpshooter. Perhaps one day he’ll accompany us to the range and give you some pointers. Would you enjoy that?”

“Yes.” Sammy bounced on the balls of his feet.

She gathered up the rest of the equipment and locked them inside the shed, then placed her bow and arrows inside the back of the 4x4.

“Aren’t you going to put your bow away too?” Sammy asked.

“This is my special set. I keep it at the castle,” Elise explained, glancing up at the gathering clouds. “What else do you like to do, Sammy?” Besides sneak off from the staff.

“I like to fish.”

“You do?”

“Nick—I mean, Lord Rivendon—has a fishing stream. My dad and I and sometimes my granddad go fishing.”

“I suppose we could give the River Tweed a try this week and invite your father to meet us there when he gets off work.”