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His silence infuriated d’Argent. Different parts of the man jerked in twitches: his hands, his jaw, his eye. “You turned my daughter against me.”
“You turned your daughter against you.”
“You ruined her.”
Máel felt a cold smile stretch his lips. “No. But I shall gladly ruin you.”
The baron straightened with a jerk. In a loud voice, he said, “I accept your bid, Irish, for I want to see you die.”
The handsome Bennett spun toward him. “No! It is not fair—”
“The joust was for all eligible combatants,” d’Argent interrupted. “I have deemed him eligible. Let the match begin.”
Bennett’s face twisted in a mask of disgruntled fury as the baron retreated to the stands. Bennett spun to Máel. “Who are you?”
“No one,” Máel said as he gathered Fury’s reins.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Or I, you.”
The knight laughed. “With that horse? In that armor? And that lance?” He made a disparaging gesture to the lance Odin had secured for him.
Máel said nothing, just swung up on Fury, a bit clumsily as the saddle was different than his usual one, with a higher pommel to keep him in the saddle when he took the first hit.
Hopefully.
Bennett snapped his fingers and a red-faced squire scurried out, took his horse’s reins, and led the extremely large stallion to the far end of the arena. Bennett continued to look Máel over derisively.
“You are not good enough for any of this, Irishman. All of it is beyond you. The castle, the joust, the lady. You do not belong here. She is mine, the title is mine, and you cannot—”
Máel finished tightening a lace on his gauntlet and looked up. “Do you always talk this much?”
Bennett looked ready to launch himself at Máel, which would be preferable to jousting. He was only jousting in an attempt to get to the on-foot portion at the end.
Assuming he made it that far.
He truly did not like jousting.
Bennett started toward him in anger but a bright feminine voice called out, breaking his stride.
“Sir Irish,” Cassia’s voice carried across the arena.
They both turned.
God’s truth she was beautiful. But her beauty went deeper than that which you could see with your eyes. He knew that now. She was clever and eager and earnest.
But above all, she was honorable.
She’d never broken her word. Every thing she said she’d do, she’d done. No matter the effort or the risk, she’d persevered. She was more steadfast than any knight he’d ever heard of in any tale.
She was also a carnal dream incarnate.
Máel rode over to her.
“My lady,” he said as he drew up before her.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” she said, doing a bit of both.
