Zeke led the horses past the faded brick cottage and down the grass covered hill. When the pond came into view, he slowed, reining in the team under a canopy of hawthorn trees. He hopped down and held out his hand to aid the earl’s descent. “As I recall, you and Father gave Caden and I our first pistol shooting lessons here.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Kit scramble down the opposite side of the hitch. Good Lord, the boy had his pinkie crooked in the air as if to balance his weight. What an odd bird.

“Exactly what Kit and I have been doing out here these last several weeks.”

This was too much. “You and Kit?” Zeke demanded.

“Never know when one might need protection.”

Zeke threw up his hands. “Why would Kit need protection?”

“I was referring to myself,” the earl answered. “I prefer my servants to be trained to defend me.

That was plausible, Zeke admitted.

The earl’s eyes narrowed in sudden contemplation. Never a good sign.

His grandfather glanced from Kit to Zeke and back to Kit, where his gaze rested. “The recoil from the blast is a bit much for my shooting arm. Perhaps today you could instruct the boy?”

Kit’s head jerked up and his frosty green eyes went saucer-round. Apparently Kit didn’t like the idea of taking lessons from him.

Blame it on his perverse sense of humor, but the thought of irritating Kit had a satisfying edge to it.

Kit spoke up for the first time in a long while, his voice at once hoarse and squeaky. “Perhaps we should skip the lesson today. Lord Claybourne, you should probably spend the time visiting, since your grandson has been so long away.”

For a moment Zeke could only stare at the boy. After a moment passed whereby his grandfather didn’t rebuke the lad, he found his tongue. “Nonsense, lad. Why should a small thing like a family reunion interfere with your shooting lessons? Not that we don’t appreciate your suggestion.” He hoped Kit was intelligent enough to detect the sarcasm he’d infused into every syllable.

He glanced at his grandfather and damned if the old man wasn’t glaring at him. Fine. “I’m happy to help the boy, my lord.” He sighed. Fixed Kit with a steady eye. “Tell me, what have you got so far? Can you hit a target?”

Kit glared back at him. “Even a moving one.”