Rohr marched up to Darlei and Urfet. “Can we expect your riders to bump and shove us aside here too? So long as I am fairly warned.”
Darlei answered him. “We would not so endanger our animals.”
He tossed his head and moved off to the starting line.
“Beat the bastard,” Urfet said in their own tongue, and boosted her up on the back of his pony. “You know you can.”
“Yes.” She did.
They formed a ragged line where a post had been set in the ground. Chief MacMurtray gave instructions. They would make two circuits of the field, passing the post without stopping on the first. The pony to pass the post the second time was winner.
There would, as Darlei saw when she nudged Urfet’s mount, Cai, into line with her knees, be a certain amount of jockeying for room. Eight mounts started—four Gaels and four Caledonians. She found herself next to Deathan. He sat his pony well, with unthinking grace.
She need not fear being bumped by him. She did not understand quite how she knew that. She just did.
He slanted her a glance before the chief gave the signal. Cai gathered himself beneath her and ran.
For one terrible moment, she thought she would not be able to control him. Far too strong for her, he was. Far too wild, barely disciplined. Then some corresponding wildness deep within her stirred and arose. She cried to the animal.
“Go. Go!”
Deathan MacMurtray had got out ahead of her, as had one of their own men. Deathan gave her a glance as she passed him and saw him lean into his mount. He meant to give her a run for the victory.
She stretched herself along Cai’s back, hair fluttering, bare skin of her thighs against his rough, shaggy coat.
They flew.
She almost lost control of Cai again at the bottom of the field when they rounded the tree. Perhaps she did lose control. It did not matter, for by then she and the pony were one. Cai made the turn, turf flying from his hooves, and she hollered for joy.
She had passed their own man and was out in front when they gained the post for the first time and turned again. The faces of the onlookers blurred. They dashed on.
Who was behind her? All of them! But who was closest? She tried to look, but her streaming hair prevented it.
No matter. Her heart had now joined with Cai’s. His magnificent wildness was her own. No one could catch them.
As they approached the post to win, she caught a glimpse of brown to her left. Brown, and a stream of gold. Deathan—he was catching them.
She stretched herself higher on Cai’s neck and called to him in her own tongue.
“Faster. For Caledonia.”
They thundered past the post and several strides beyond. It took all Darlei’s strength to halt the pony.
Deathan drew up beside her. He was smiling, and admiration shone in his eyes.
“A fine race, princess. I congratulate ye.”
She nodded regally, then turned back to her father and the chief.
Urfet took Cai’s lead from her and helped her down, smiling broadly. “Well done.”
“He nearly caught me there at the end.”
“Nay, he never had a chance. Now go face your furious bridegroom.”
Yes, Urfet had taken a dislike to Rohr MacMurtray and wished only to annoy him. He led Cai away, still smiling.
Darlei turned to the waiting party.
