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“But if he were to ask for my hand,” Alyssa persisted, “you would give your permission.”
Lord Clayton drew his youngest daughter in his arms. “I would offer twice Eleanor’s dowry, darling, but do not get your hopes up. I hate to see you distraught.”
A servant entered the room. “The guest tent is ready for patrons to be seated.”
“Thank you,” Lord Clayton said, releasing his hold on Alyssa. “Shall we go?”
“Yes, father,” Alyssa said, smiling up at Lord Clayton with a look that would melt any father’s heart.
“And Eleanor,” he said, stalking across the room and grabbing Eleanor by the elbow. “Do not embarrass yourself or your family this day. Abbot is your champion, not Reginald. You are to behave appropriately.”
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “You will not be ordering me around for much longer, Father. When I marry Reginald, I will no longer be your concern.”
She jerked her arm out of his grasp and stalked out of the room. She caught his words to Alyssa as she entered the hall. “That girl will be the death of me. If only she were meek and well-mannered like you, little one.”
“I have tried to encourage her to be more submissive,” Alyssa said.
“I know, daughter. I am glad you are a good girl.”
Lara rolled her eyes. She could just picture Alyssa smiling up at her daddy with heart-melting worship. Puh-leaze.
In the yard outside the castle, a fence, spectator stands and a tent had been erected. Lara’s heart skipped a beat when she realized this jousting thing was for real. A clanging sound to her right drew her attention. Lord Asshat, fully bedecked in his polished armor, was heading in her direction. When he stopped beside her, he removed his helmet. His eyes roved over her body as if he were a detective looking for clues. Most of those clues must’ve gotten stuck to her boobs.
“You look incomparably beautiful,” he said huskily, his gaze settling on the tops of her breasts.
“Thank you, Christopher.”
His breath came out in an excited huff. “You’ve never used my given name before.”
Lara fluttered her eyelashes at him, feeling entirely stupid. Alyssa’s plan just might work, and if she had to pretend to like this guy to distract him and give Reginald an advantage, she would most certainly do her best. She reached up and gently touched the bruise on his face, resisting the urge to jab his bruise repeatedly with her finger. His eyes moved to hers. “You poor dear,” she said, wondering if she sounded simpering or just obnoxious. “What a terrible bruise. Are you sure you can fight?”
He caught her hand and kissed its palm. “Your concern is touching, milady,” he said. “May I ask the honor of your favor?”
Ugh! She reached into the cleft between her breasts and slowly pulled out a small handkerchief. Abbot made a sound of longing in the back of his throat. She pressed the handkerchief to her lips before handing it to him. “Please accept this small token of my affection.”
She wasn’t sure how it was possible for him not to realize she was acting for all she was worth. She’d run off with his rival, for crying out loud. Was he that much a slave to his dick?
Abbot accepted the handkerchief and drew it to his nose. “We wed tonight, milady,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “Then it will be my right to take what I want from you.”
She swallowed the acid inching up her throat and attempted a smile. “I cannot refuse my husband.”
He surprised her by grabbing her and kissing her with an open-mouthed, slobbery kiss. When his tongue sought penetration, she clenched her teeth tightly together. She forced herself to remain still. When he pulled away, he looked down at her in question.
“Not going to fight me?” he asked.
It dawned on her that her resistance was what had him so enslaved by desire. She slapped him across his bruised cheek, hoping to ignite him further, yet terrified that it would actually work. “Cad! How dare you take such liberties!”
“Oh, I dare, milady. I care not how viciously you resist.”
“I loathe you.”
He laughed. “Is that any way to speak to your future husband?”
She bit her tongue. This guy was unreal. When he lowered his head to kiss her again, she twisted away, breaking free of his grasp.
“Save it for the marriage bed, Abbot,” Lord Clayton said.
Abbot grinned. “Tonight cannot come soon enough.”
Lara glanced around, noticing Alyssa talking to Reece near his horse. Standing beside them, Toby’s slender body was practically vibrating with nervous energy. Reece leaned close to Alyssa, nodding occasionally as he listened to her instructions. When her hand grasped his metal sleeve so she could whisper in his ear, Lara was surprised by the spear of jealousy that pierced her heart. It must be Eleanor’s desire to be with Reginald, Lara reasoned. She knew that Alyssa had no interest in Reg and Alyssa didn’t even see Reece when she looked at the dashing knight preparing for the tournament, so Lara’s jealousy made even less sense.
“The observation tent awaits you, milady,” Lord Abbot said, watching her as she gazed at Reece.
“Oh, thank you, my lord,” she said, dragging her gaze back to Abbot. “I wish you luck.”
“I appreciate that, Eleanor, but I won’t be needing luck today.” His evil grin made her heart flop. What was he scheming? Lara couldn’t imagine what terrible brats he would spawn with Alyssa. The two were more perfectly matched than Lara wanted to admit.
Lord Abbot put on his helmet and stalked off in the direction of his waiting horse. Apparently, he had recovered the beast from the forest where it had been left. Lara couldn’t help but grin, imagining Abbot wandering the countryside pantsless, looking for his horse and armor. She made her way to the tent where a small crowd was gathering. Alyssa caught her arm just before she entered.
“There are three events. Two out of three wins the tournament,” she whispered. “Reginald has the obvious advantage in the sword fight. They are equally matched in the joust. Abbot has the advantage in archery. It really comes down to who wins the joust. I have an idea to turn the event to Reginald’s favor. Tell father I felt ill so went to lie down.”
Lara nodded.
“Did you do your part?” Alyssa asked. “Did you distract Christopher?”
Lara laughed. “It wasn’t hard. Breathing distracts him.”
“Make sure you are the front of the tent and cheer for him. He has a hard time concentrating when he’s showing off for you, sister.”
“Understood.”
Alyssa reached up and tugged the bodice of Eleanor’s gown down a few inches. “There you go. You’ll be married to Reginald by nightfall.”
Alyssa turned and headed back to the castle, holding her stomach as if she felt ill. Lara entered the tent and found her father standing near the front of the open structure.
“There you are,” he said. “Where is your sister?”
“She’s not feeling well. She went to lie down.”
Lord Clayton’s features tightened with concern. “I hope she is not too ill. She was never blessed with vigor or good health. The poor child.”
Oh yes, Alyssa was such a helpless creature. Sheesh! Blind much, Papa Clayton?
There was a trumpeting which drew all eyes to the arena. A man read from a scroll of parchment. “Lord Christopher Abbot hereby challenges Sir Reginald Ferguson to a duel of valor. The tournament shall be held at Abbot castle grounds on the morrow with the prize of Lady Eleanor Clayton’s hand in matrimonial bliss. The marriage ceremony will commence following the third event. Each knight may select one event for the tournament, with a joust leading the challenge. He who triumphs in two or more events, shall be named the victor. Should Sir Ferguson refuse the terms of t
his challenge, he shall be charged with the kidnapping of Lady Clayton and persecuted to the greatest extent of the law. Lord Abbot, do you hereby claim this challenge?”
“Aye,” Abbot called, lifting his hand to cheers from the crowd. Lara did her best to pretend she was cheering with them. She waved and wriggled excitedly.
“Lord Ferguson, do you hereby accept this challenge?”
“Aye,” Reece called.
There was a chorus of boos and hisses. Lara’s heart went out to him. He had to be nervous enough without having the added burden of the crowd being against him. She wished she had spoken to him before the match began. Good luck, my love, Eleanor’s thoughts came through loud and clear. Ditto, Lara thought. Well, except for that love part. Like? Sure. Lust? Definitely. But love? Her heart fluttered. Well, maybe.
Both knights directed their horses to the center of the wooden fence where they faced each other. They then turned and approached the tent, coming to a halt in front of Lara. Her eyes searched the visor of Reece’s helmet, wishing she could see his expression. Was he worried? She was about to toss her crumpets.
“The first event shall be the joust,” the announcer called. “Take your ready, knights.”
The horses were directed to either end of the fence. Toby handed Reece a lance and he settled the weapon into position at his hip. Lara noticed the tip wasn’t blunted. One of them could be killed.
She turned to her father. “We have to call this off,” she said. “These are real weapons.”
Her father looked down at her, his expression cold. “These are real knights,” he said. “Do you see what trouble your insolence causes?”
“I’ll marry Lord Abbot!” She clutched his sleeve, but he shook off her hold. “Just call it off.”
Lord Clayton took her by the arm and turned her to face the joust. “Allow him his dignity.”
Lara bit her lip. A trumpet sounded. Both horses leapt forward, hooves churning up dust. The knights raced towards each other at breakneck speed. Reece lifted his lance, leaning into the horse, the blue and white banner showing his family’s coat of arms rippling over his steed’s rump. A flash of light hit Abbot’s visor. Concentration broken, he turned his head the instant before the knights collided. There was an unsettling crunch. Reece’s lance broke off at the hilt as it hit Abbot’s chest plate. Abbot’s lance struck Reece in the shoulder and sent him flying. Reece did a backwards somersault off his horse and landed face down in the dirt. Lara attempted to spring over the low wall in front of her, but Lord Clayton grabbed her by the arm. Heart in her throat, she watched Reece, begging him to move. Toby ran to his knight and tried to rouse him.
