Meet a Man Who Always Hits the Bullseye

Feb 20, 2025 4:41 pm

Dear Readers,

If you know Samuel Merriweather, the Duke of Clearford, you know he likes knives. 🤣 In his story, Dukes Court for Keeps, I ended up doing quite a bit of research on Regency era knives and one of the most fascinating factoids I picked up was this:

Folding knives and multi-blade knives were common during the Regency period.

The most insane knife I discovered was the "Year Knife," made in 1822 with 1822 blades or implements including corkscrews, scissors, nail files, and button hooks (among others!). You can see a picture of it here.

And you can read an excerpt from Dukes Court for Keeps below! In this scene, Samuel is teaching Emma to throw knives. Enjoy!

****

She lined herself up. All wrong. She took aim. All wrong. She threw it. And it didn’t even hit the tree. “Bother.” She stomped to retrieve the knife this time, then lined up again. Wrong. Aimed.

“Wrong, all wrong.” He exploded toward her, decimating that distance he’d put between them. And then she sank into his embrace once more, eager for him to shape her, teach her. She should have stiffened at his touch. If she had, he could have kept necessary inches between them. But when he cupped her elbow and she melted into him, a little purr of something in her throat, barely audible but there all the same, he couldn’t.

He simply could not.

He smiled. His body loved her, wanted to keep her, to strip her, to taste her.

“Line your body up using mine as a guide,” he said low in her ear. “Arm to arm and leg to leg.” Her arms settled against his, her skirts married the length of his legs. His cock, already twitching, tightened. Painful. Needing. “Back to belly.” And heart to heart. Too much. Too perfect. “Now let me guide you.”

She gave a little nod. Was she breathing? She’d gone entirely still.

He stroked his knuckles up and down her neck. Completely giving up the fight, was he? Yes, it appeared so. “Loosen. Breathe.”

Another tiny nod as she did so, and he wrapped his hand around hers on the hilt.

For a moment.

For a breath.

For a sin-filled second.

He closed his eyes and let their bodies be. Together. Perfect. Possibly everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he could have if things were different. If things were different, she’d find him here some days, needing help with who knew what, and she’d take the blade from his hand and set it aside, and instead of honing his unnecessary wildness through the blade, he’d channel it into her, throwing her over his shoulder and carting her off to their bed. Her hair would fan out like the sunrise on white sheets, and he’d kiss her everywhere the sun shone.

He could see it all.

Even after he opened his eyes, he saw her and him and everything they could have from this moment until dark earth spilled onto their coffins.

He spilled the need and the frustration into the blade, and together they flung it across the room.

It sank tip first into the tree with an echoing thwack, and she spun in his arms, eyes bright as sapphires, and mouth curved into happiness itself.

“I did it!”

He allowed himself one thing—to trail the pad of his thumb down the length of her jaw and settle at the tip of her chin, so very close to the pout of her bottom lip. “You did. Now do it again.”

He left her, taking the chair to the side of the room. Alone.

*****

If you'd like to read more, you can grab this book and the rest of the series for a limited time in Kindle Unlimited!

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