Binding Vows (8 page)

“Let me win?”

“Aye, let you.” Fin laughed at the rivalry, which had always been between them, but one they’d never taken to an extreme.

They both looked over at Tara. A tall well-dressed man stood in front of her. To Duncan’s distaste, Tara smiled at him and laughed at something he said.

Duncan stiffened when he saw the man reach out to shake her hand and then hold it for a minute too long. Jealousy, green as moss on a tree, surged through him. What did the stranger say to make her smile in such a way? And why was he standing so close?

****

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Steel.” Tara smiled.

“Please call me Michael. After tomorrow’s 60

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games, we might become better acquainted.”

“I’m sorry?”

“There are very few men here who can joust. I’m happy to say, I have the upper hand.”

An image of a peacock popped in Tara’s mind.

This man strutted like an over-inflated bird.

She looked down, noticed he still held her hand and pulled back. “It’s a compliment you would try so hard.”

Feeling another set of eyes on her, Tara glanced up to see Duncan looking at them. In her delight at seeing him, his scowl went unnoticed. She said, “If you’ll excuse me.”

Duncan’s eyes connected with Mr. Steel’s, when she turned to walk toward him. His chin rose slightly. Tara glanced back at the man, then back at Duncan.
Is he jealous?

Before Tara had a chance to say hello, Duncan swept down and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

The clearing of throats reminded her, they were in public. Not that she cared.

“Good morning to you, too.” Tara staggered back.
Oh, yeah. He was jealous.

His charming smile looked down at her while he placed her arm in his. “’Tis a lovely day. Let us see what we can do to entertain ourselves.”

Maybe it was his old-fashioned words, or maybe the way his glance devoured her, but Tara would have followed him anywhere in that moment.

Even with Bruno trailing behind them, they managed to have some fun. Jugglers, jesters, a man who breathed fire and even a few really bad actors butchering Shakespeare entertained the crowd.

The children of the fair grew bored. Tara noticed more than a few sneaking behind tents and heard the unmistakable sounds of handheld video games being played. She pointed the kids out to Duncan and rhetorically asked, “What did children in these 61

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times do for fun?”

“Most children of the villages work a large part of their day, helping their families in whatever trade they are in. Children of the wealthy have servants to do much of the work, so the males start practicing at an early age to become knights. The females learn early on the way to run their households.”

“Well, aren’t you an encyclopedia of medieval knowledge.”

“’Tis what I’ve been told.” He avoided her searching eyes. “Ah... It looks as if some of the men are anxious to win tomorrow.” He lifted a hand, pointed to the men who were already in the arena practicing for the upcoming games.

Tara looked at the men on horseback with nervous anticipation.

“You are competing, right?”

Duncan’s hand rested on the small of her back as they moved closer to get a better look at the men as they practiced. “Nay, Tara. I will not be competing.”

She turned to him in shock. “But I thought... I mean since we’ve been...”

His face softened in a boyish, playful smile.

“You’re joking,” she said in relief.

“I’ll not be competing.
I
will be winning,” he declared with absolute conviction.

Her sigh came out in a rush, which was followed with her delicate hand hitting his chest. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Are you worried I wouldn’t fight for your hand?”

“You’re the only guy here I’ve kissed! You damn well better fight for my hand!”

“I do enjoy your kisses.”

“I’ll give you another if you win,” she promised.

He moved closer looking as if he would take another kiss right then. Bruno grunted behind them, 62

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ruining the moment.

Damn,
she thought, wishing they were alone.

****

They were finishing their evening meal when Madame Gwen made her appearance in the dining hall. Tara noticed the look the brothers exchanged, but the plastic smile on Gwen’s face made her forget what she was thinking and left her feeling chilled.

Polite greetings were made, and Fin started asking questions as soon as Madame Gwen walked up. “What’s next on tonight’s festivities?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Gwen looked over at Tara.

“Miss McAllister, you will be asked to dance with every man competing tomorrow. I hope you don’t object.”

“Well...” Tara straightened up to attention.

“We wouldn’t want the men to think you’ve already picked the winner and there’s no reason to play the games.” Grainna directed her look at Duncan. “I’m sure your friend won’t mind.”

Tara noticed a slight twitch in Duncan’s jaw.

She hoped he would object.

Instead he smiled and said, “Of course not.”

“Good.” Gwen clapped her hands together, her bracelets jingled. Instantly, the music stopped and gave her the audience she demanded.

“Lords and Ladies,” her voice rang out. “On the eve of the solstice, and the tournament commemorating the occasion, I want to thank you all for joining us tonight. As promised, tomorrow’s games will fill the day and end with the joust.”

Shouts went up from the crowd as drunken men raised their glasses.

“The winner will have the honor of partnering with Lady Tara in a handfasting ceremony.”

Whistles could be heard over the crowd. At least one man shouted something about a wedding night. “The 63

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celebration which will follow will rival any period wedding of the time of the Renaissance. One I hope you will enjoy.”

Clenching the goblet, Tara took a giant swig from her wine. Duncan’s hand found the other resting in her lap under the table. His gentle squeeze reassured and calmed her.

“Those competing for Lady Tara’s hand have the opportunity to meet with her tonight and are given one dance each.” Gwen signaled the musicians and sound filled the air. “Enjoy your evening.”

Gwen tilted her head and left the platform.

Men lined up, adding to Tara’s distress. The music was soft and resembled a waltz. Her knees trembled when the first man approached.

Tara smiled at Duncan and then glared at Cassy. She moved forward and let her first partner lead her to the dance floor.

He was short. His name was Jimmy or Timmy, Tara couldn’t remember. He counted while they danced which kept him from talking. It was awkward dancing with a stranger, but Jimmy or Timmy seemed as uncomfortable as her.

Outside of a sore toe, Tara was less scared than she thought she’d be when the next man came forward.

After the third dance partner, Tara’s earlier jitters started to subside. The men asked the same questions. ‘Are you having a good time?’ ‘How is it, being in the limelight?’ Harmless men, most of them married, or so they said.

Her fourth partner was familiar and handsome for a blond. It took her a few minutes of meticulous dancing to realize who the man was. He embodied the part of English knight, from accent to dress. He didn’t have to count to dance, which afforded him the opportunity to talk.

“You look ravishing, Lady Tara.” His voice was 64

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smooth.

Her cheeks grew warm. “Thank you, Mr. Steel.”

“Please, call me Michael. You wound me with your propriety.”

“I’m more worried about wounding your feet.”

Almost on cue, her feet skipped a step, forcing her partner to hold her closer.

“Be careful, we wouldn’t want you to injure yourself before tomorrow.” He gazed down at her.

“Unless you want out of the spotlight.”

She chuckled. “Going to the dentist would be more fun for me.”

Michael laughed, putting her at ease.

****

The other man’s laughter grated on Duncan’s nerves. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the muscle in his jaw twitched. The man’s hands rested far too comfortably around Tara’s waist, and to his dismay, she was smiling at him.

“Easy brother,” Fin warned, “’Tis only a dance, one she is obligated to have.”

Duncan’s eyes followed them around the room.

When the dance ended the man reach for her hand, his lips touched the back of it. He felt some satisfaction when she pulled away quickly after he released it.

“My turn.” Fin jumped to his feet.

Fin cut off a clumsy, overweight man and whisked her around in a very large circle before pulling her into his arms, keeping a comfortable distance from his frame.

“How are you holding up?” Fin asked, with a loud enough voice for Duncan to hear.

“You don’t happen to have a flask of whisky on you?” Tara teased.

She relaxed, and Fin swept her out of earshot.

Duncan’s eyes narrowed, wondering what secrets his brother whispered in his lady’s ear.

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“Tara tells me you’re both leaving for home after this is over.” Cassy moved to a seat closer to Duncan so he could hear her.

“Aye,” he said, never letting his eyes wander from where his brother was making moves on Tara.

“That’s too bad.”

“What is bad?” He diverted his attention to Cassy.

“That you’re leaving. Any chance you and your brother could spend a little more time in the States.

I’m sure I could talk Tara into showing you both around L.A. for a week or so.”

“That’s not possible, I’m afraid.”

“Bummer.” His gaze slipped back to Tara and Cassy said, “I think you’re good for her.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know, I just think you are. She would never have gone along with all this if she hadn’t met you. Tara was ready to leave last night, and today she’s more...” Cassy swirled wine in the glass she held. “That probably doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

He considered her choice of words. It was exactly how he felt since he had sat in her lap. “It makes plenty of sense.” He smiled at Tara’s friend, feeling a kinship with the woman who looked over his lady.

He thought for a moment about how his mind had drifted to those words, “his lady.” Tara wasn’t his. In no way could she be, yet it was how he felt.

“Oh... No!” Cassy interrupted his thoughts, and looked across the room. “Tara isn’t going to put up with that.”

The music had changed, and with it, so had Tara’s dance partner.

She stood eye to eye with him. His girth matched his obviously intoxicated state. His attempt to pull Tara close was met with resistance and brought Duncan to his feet, with murder in his eyes.

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He looked every bit the medieval knight as he marched through the crowed with hardly a glance.

He watched the man’s hands slip below her waist.

She struggled to put distance between them, only to be harshly tugged next to the ogre.

Duncan couldn’t remember feeling as bloodthirsty for a man in all his warring days. The rogue would pay for touching her.

****

“Get off!” Tara yelled at the slobbering drunk.

She pulled her hand away only to have him place a vice grip on it.

“What’s the matter lil’ lady, I know you’ll like what I got.” His tongue darted out of his mouth to catch the drool beginning to fall from his lips.

Tara was about to knee the man’s groin when she heard the sound of steel against steel. In a flash, she saw a three-foot long blade with a deadly point edging to the side of the drunk’s neck. Frozen in place, all Tara could do was stare.

Everything went silent. Abruptly the voices and music stopped, a deafening quiet in a crowded room sent shivers down her spine.

Only the voice of one pissed off Scott could be heard. “Unhand her,” Duncan ordered.

The drunk froze as the blade nicked his neck, drawing a tiny drop of blood. To the man’s embarrassment, his bladder let loose, further adding to his humiliation. It was amazing how still he stood with his eyes so glossed over.

“I didn’t mean any harm. Just havin’ a little fun, mate.”

Duncan pulled Tara to his side.

Stumbling back, the drunk tripped on a table, righted himself, and then ran from the room. Only then did Duncan put his sword back in its sheath.

Once the man was out of sight, Duncan shifted his eyes to Tara’s. “Are you all right?”

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Her jaw dropped.

“Would you like to take a walk?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

Cassy stood and clinked a spoon against her half-empty glass. “All right folks! The show’s over!

Done. Go back to eating and whatever.”

Fin directed Grainna’s man to the drunk who needed to be put in his place. Duncan slipped away from the people with Tara on his arm. Alone.

****

She was having a hard time processing what had happened. Never, not even in her wildest dreams, would she ever have imagined a man drawing a sword on another on her behalf. It was one of those defining moments, the kind that made her glad she was a girl. Her heart gave a flutter when she replayed the scene in her head.

It wasn’t that she felt very threatened by the man. Annoyed was a better word. The fact that Duncan was ready to shed blood for her gave her a power she never thought possible.

They walked in silence for some time before Tara said, “Thank you.”

“’Tis nothing.”

“Are you kidding? That man was a jerk. Before I knew what was happening there you were, putting him in his place.” She turned to him, smiled. “And all this time I thought this was a prop.” She touched the edge of his sword.

“What is a prop?”

“A fake. You know, part of a costume,” she explained.

“Oh.” His hand rested over hers. “Nay, ’tis no prop.”

“It looks heavy. Is it?” She grasped its hilt.

He drew it out for her, placed it in her hands.

“You tell me.”

Once he lifted his hand from the blade, the full 68

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