* * *
In deference to the shock Laura had experienced in the temple, Ian dropped the subject of rifle practice for the rest of that day. The next morning, however, she seemed fully recovered, so as they were finishing lunch he said, "This is a perfect time for a bit of target practice." He got to his feet and offered his wife a hand up. "Half an hour a day and you'll be a sharpshooter in no time."
Ignoring his hand, Laura drew up her knees and linked her arms around them, her golden eyes narrowed like a suspicious cat. "I'm impressed at your natural caution, but I truly can't see why it's necessary for me to learn how to shoot well."
"I'm not naturally cautious, and that lack very nearly got me killed more than once during my first year in India," he said dryly. "This is definitely not Surrey. As your husband I'm responsible for your safety. Though I'll do my best to protect you, there is no substitute for having some capability to protect yourself."
Her eyes narrowed still further, calculation showing in their depths. "If you're responsible for my safety, as your wife I'm responsible for your health. I'll do my best with a rifle if you'll promise to eat more."
Taken aback, Ian said, "I eat as much as I want. Why should I force-feed myself?"
Uncoiling with feline grace, Laura got to her feet. "Because you're too thin and you don't eat enough to keep a marmot alive." She poked a none-too-gentle finger into his ribs. "Judging by the looseness of your clothing, you used to have a little flesh on your bones instead of looking like a scarecrow. Your appearance does me no credit. People will think either that I'm a terrible housekeeper, or that marriage is making you waste away from sheer misery.''
"If you think I'm thin now, you should have seen me when I was just out of prison," he said with some irritation. "I'm in perfectly good health."
Dropping her teasing manner, Laura said earnestly, "Ian, if my grandfather was any guide, lack of appetite is another effect of melancholia. At the beginning of one of his spells he would stop eating, and I'm convinced that being half starved made his melancholy worse. If you feed yourself decently, your body will be grateful, which might help leaven your black moods."
Ian curbed his irritation and considered Laura's theory. It was true that he was eating far less than he used to,. Food was one of many things that he no longer enjoyed. Perhaps his wife was right and better nourishment might contribute to greater well-being. "Very well, it's a bargain. I'll eat more and you'll work on improving your marksmanship."
Laura knelt and picked up a chapati, covered it with the last of the curried rice mixture they had had for lunch, then rolled it up and gave it to Ian. "Here's the rest of your meal. Now where do you want to give me my first lesson?"
"There's a good spot just off the road. Shade from the sun and a large earth bluff to absorb stray bullets." He bit into the chapati unenthusiastically. "Do you want to use my rifle, which is a breechloader, or your father's muzzleloader?"
"My father's, since I'm familiar with it."
Ian collected both rifles and ammunition, then led the way to the spot he had chosen, still munching on the chapati. Straw would have tasted equally exciting, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt him to eat more. After swallowing the last bite, he said, "Do I really look that dreadful?"
A gleam of amusement showed in his wife's eyes. "For a scarecrow, you're fairly attractive." She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "Put on a couple of stone more weight and you'll be devastating."
He smiled, then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket because they had reached the impromptu shooting range. After impaling the paper on a stubby branch that projected from a dead tree, he stepped off twenty paces. "If you hit the paper on your first try, this lesson will be over before it starts."
Lips tight, she wiped her palms on her skirt. Then she took the rifle from Ian, loaded it with clumsy hands, and cocked the hammer. Under his appraising gaze, she raised the gun and fired, the sharp crack of sound echoing through the woods and sending a squawking crowd of alarmed birds into the air.
As Ian watched the shot go wild, he was glad that he'd found such a large earthen backstop. Anything smaller and the bullet might have missed the bluff and gone into the forest. But it was a start. "Very good. Now reload and take firing position again, but don't shoot yet. I want to show you some points of technique."
As she obeyed, he saw how pale her face was, but with grim determination she reloaded, then raised the rifle and sighted along it. The barrel wavered back and forth.
Ian stepped directly behind Laura and put his arms around her so that his hands were over hers. He guided her aim, trying to demonstrate by example. "Easy now—try to relax. You're strung so tightly that you can't hold the rifle steady."