Tournament of Hearts

by Alyssa Stark

  “Have you decided upon a prize yet?” he teased as he plucked at the string of his bow. He suddenly felt guilty for misleading the lass. He was more than just a casual hunter. Tristan Finnegan was known far and wide in the Highlands as an expert marksman. The lass hadn’t stood a chance and yet she too was a remarkably good shot.

  “I have,” Isobel said, still reeling to recover from the thrill of her defeat. She had been sure that she was going to best the blacksmith. “Close your eyes,” she said sharply. “I want it to be a true surprise,” she added.

  Tristan obliged her and closed his eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly into the faintest hint of a smile.

  Isobel watched him now, enjoying the fact that she could appraise him openly now that his eyes were closed. Tristan Finnegan was a handsome man. A few threads of his sandy blonde hair had escaped their leather binding, lending him a rugged, wild look. His face was angular and his nose straight except for the tell-tale spot where it had been broken. There was a faint dusting of stubble along his jaw line and Isobel suddenly wondered what it would feel like to touch him there.

  The warmth of the summer ale emboldened her and she took two steps towards the blacksmith. She stood so close to him now that she could feel the heat of his breath against the skin of her face. Their close proximity caused Isobel’s heart to race.

  She reached up hesitantly at first, her fingers hovering just above the warm skin of Tristan’s jaw. Her breath came raggedly as she contemplated her next action.

  She wanted to touch Tristan.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” she whispered.

  “I wouldna dare peek,” Tristan said as his smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth.

  Isobel’s fingers trembled as they brushed lightly against his skin, trailing over the prickly stubble that studded his jaw line. Her touch grew bolder as her fingers moved over his cheek.

  Isobel watched Tristan’s reaction intently.

  His eyes clenched shut momentarily and then relaxed. Her touch had obviously affected him greatly. His mouth was set firm, his lips full but expressionless now. What she did not notice was how his hands curled into fists at his side. Tristan Finnegan was fighting his response to her with every thread of his being.

  Not alright. She was too close.

  Tristan fought his bodily reaction to the beautiful lass, fought the instinctual desire to gather her in his arms and kiss her senseless. Isobel McLaughlin had dropped into his life and turned it upside down. She had single handedly made him yearn for dreams that he had long forgotten. The undeniable attraction that he felt for her was overwhelming, especially now that she stood only a breath away from him.

  Isobel ignored the small voice inside her head that screamed for her to exercise caution. Her pulse trilled in her veins and suddenly there was no space separating her from Tristan. Her palms were now flat against his chest and she could feel the warmth radiating from beneath his linen shirt.

  Standing on her tip toes, Isobel tilted her head up and pressed her lips softly against Tristan’s. She felt him intake a swift breath of surprise.

  His hazel eyes flew open in shock and then closed again as he reached up to cup her cheek. He pulled her closer and pressed his lips gently back against hers.

  Isobel felt lightning zip down her spine as Tristan kissed her softly. His lips moved gently against hers and he growled softly within his throat, a deeply masculine sound. His breath was warm against her mouth and his lips tasted of the ale that they had shared. Isobel suddenly wondered if she was going to be able to support herself. The new, thrilling sensation of Tristan’s lips against her own coupled with the heady buzz of the ale was pure dizzying bliss.

  Tristan indulged in the act of kissing her, knowing full well that he should draw away from her but unable to force himself to do so. She was all consuming, invading his senses and striking all reasonable thoughts from his brain.

  There was only Isobel.

  He kissed her soft, wet lips and allowed a temporary rush of madness to govern his actions. The kind of madness where the needs of the body ruled over the good sense of his mind.

  Tristan kissed her once more and then slowly withdrew, resting his forehead lightly against hers.

  “That was a better prize than I deserved,” he whispered.

  Isobel smiled shyly, suddenly self-conscious of her bold gesture. Her heart raced when she realized that her hand had found its way up behind Tristan’s neck. His hands had settled in the small of her back. She had no memory of either of their hands moving. She was slightly ashamed of her boldness, but still could not find it within herself to regret kissing Tristan.

  Isobel’s innocent kiss had seduced Tristan completely. He had been fanaticizing about what it would feel like to kiss her and now that he knew how sweet she tasted, he yearned for more. He yearned for more even though he knew that indulging his desires with the lass was dangerous.

  Tristan’s rational mind screamed for him to tread cautiously, but his body had other ideas.

  He pulled her in for another gentle kiss.

  Tristan growled as he claimed her mouth tenderly. His tongue flicked at her lips and she opened instinctually for him.

  When his tongue brushed lightly against hers, Isobel lost all rational thought from the shear pleasure of kissing Tristan. She had never imagined that kissing a man could feel so heavenly! A sound escaped her lips and she was shocked to realize that it was a needful moan.

  Tristan growled in response and stroked his tongue inside her mouth again, causing Isobel’s knees to go weak. She sagged against his chest and he wrapped his arms supportively around her, pulling her even closer. His mouth arched over hers, teaching and coaxing her with his gentle kiss.

  Isobel had never felt anything so exquisite in her life. Her hands were wrapped around Tristan’s muscular shoulders and she held him close, relishing the sweet, tingling sensations that his possessive kiss yielded. She craved more of him.

  Tristan regained his control and broke the kiss, pulling his lips away from Isobel so that they hovered just beyond her sweet mouth.

  “Milady,” he whispered softly as he rested his forehead against hers and struggled to slow his ragged breathing. “Forgive me for taking such liberties.”

  Isobel smiled and felt her face flush pink.

  “Twas not a liberty. ‘Twas a prize that you won rightfully,” she said softly as she smiled and tucked her face into the crook of Tristan’s neck. He smelled delicious.

  Tristan chuckled and wrapped his arms more securely about her back. His hand traveled leisurely up and over her shoulders, then rubbed deliciously at the base of her skull. He closed his eyes as his fingers threaded through Isobel’s beautiful blonde curls. He had dreamed of touching her like this and he felt his cock buck in blatant response to her.

  Tristan was suddenly thankful for his heavy woolen kilt and the fact that his sporran was placed precariously between them. He hoped that Isobel had not felt his overwhelming bodily response to her kiss, knowing that she was innocent about men. He was fully aroused beneath his kilt. His bodily response to the lass was fierce and maddening.

  Tristan knew that he should never have allowed himself to kiss Isobel McLaughlin. He had somehow rationalized his action by telling himself that he would kiss her once and then let her go, distance himself from her completely.

  But after kissing her again he knew that this could never be. Now that he had touched her so intimately, now that he had claimed her lips with his own and felt Isobel’s response to his touch, he thought of nothing other than how to find a way to keep her. He wanted to claim her as his forever.

  A blacksmith could never dare to dream of marrying the Laird’s daughter.

  ..oo Chapter Seven oo..

  The mood inside the keep was somber, as if a heavy cloud had descended upon the castle. Isobel walked cautiously into the great hall and the dreadful feeling settled within her almost immediately.

  Something was different. Something was
wrong.

  The cadence of her footsteps increased as she moved towards the great staircase. She grasped the banister and ran up the stairs as quickly as her feet would carry her, causing the heels of her boots to clatter loudly against the flagstone steps. Her heart thundered in her chest as she raced down the corridor.

  The door to her father’s chamber was open, causing a rush of relief to overtake Isobel. She slowed her pace to a walk and struggled to control her breath. As she burst into the chamber she crashed right into Hodges.

  His face told her everything.

  Dear Hodges, her father’s oldest friend stood frozen before her. His eyes were rimmed red with the remnants of tears that he was working stoically not to shed. His mouth dropped open and then closed. When he was unable to find words, he opened his arms for Isobel and she ran to his embrace. He cradled her tear stained face against his chest and rubbed her back.

  Her father was dead.

  ..ooOoo..

  “Your guard has been doubled, milady,” Hodges said with authority. “But I still think it unwise for you to leave the safety of the keep.”

  “I’ve been inside for three whole days! I’ll go mad if I do not get outside soon!”

  “We cannot be too careful,” Hodges reproached. “Your father’s death has been hidden and as of yet, only a handful of loyal servants ken of his passing. If word gets out before an heir is chosen, you will be in grave danger, milady,” Hodges warned as he crossed his arms and blocked Isobel’s exit. “Any man could take you by force and stake claim to the vacant Lairdship.”

  “I’ll be careful. Just a short ride, I promise,” Isobel said sweetly as she reached up and placed a light kiss on Hodges’ cheek. His bushy gray eyebrows furrowed. Lady Isobel had always known just how to play him.

  “You will take your full guard,” he ordered as he stepped aside.

  “As you wish, Hodges,” Isobel relented with a honeyed smile.

  Hodges watched as Isobel walked out the massive oak door and into the courtyard in front of the keep. It had been good to see the lass smile. Losing her father had affected her greatly and perhaps going for a ride and soaking in some sunshine was just what Isobel needed.

  He chased after her to ensure that she made it safely to the stables. Hodges had no children of his own. Lady Isobel McLaughlin was as close to a daughter as he would ever have. And he meant to hold true to the promise that he had made to the girl’s dying father. He would see to her safety and ensure that she was properly wed.

  Hodges smiled to himself as he thought of McLaughlin’s dying request.

  “And if this tournament does not yield a suitable husband, if she marries a man that is unworthy or treats her poorly, kill the bastard yourself. Kill him just as I would do if I were alive. Protect my daughter, Hodges.”

  “Aye, milord,” he had said as he watched the last breath of life leave McLaughlin’s frail body. “I’ll kill the bastard who mistreats Isobel.”

  ..ooOoo..

  Isobel turned her face up towards the sunshine and closed her eyes. The way that it had heated her skin was utterly blissful. She breathed in the freshness of the spring air and counted her blessings for being allowed outside the gates of the keep. Riding had always brought Isobel solace and for a brief moment, she almost forgot that she was surrounded by ten guards.

  Perhaps she would see Tristan.

  In her heart she knew that it would not be safe to speak to him, for if their precious secret was revealed to her guards, she would never be allowed to see Tristan again. But after being locked inside the keep for three days, she had missed Tristan greatly.

  And she had relished the kiss that that had shared, reliving it over and over again in her mind. In truth, when she had not been grieving the loss of her father, the only thoughts that had entered her mind were of Tristan Finnegan.

  Apple’s hooves thundered against the damp earth, causing clods of soil to kick up behind her. Isobel’s mare had also missed going for her daily ride.

  Isobel gathered the reins more firmly in her hands and lowered herself closer to Apple’s neck. She could tell that her mare longed to stretch her legs more fully by the way that Apple strained against her bridle. Glancing over her shoulder and winking at the nearest guard, Isobel loosened the reins and kicked Apple into motion.

  “No!” ordered the guard as he opened up chase.

  Isobel smiled to herself as she urged Apple to go faster.

  Her blonde curls trailed out behind her in the wind, streaming like a banner against the blue sky. Isobel crouched low over Apple’s neck, so much so that she felt like she was one with the animal. The thundering rhythm of Apple’s hooves pounding against the earth thrilled her, giving her a fragile sense of freedom.

  She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that much to her dismay, the guards were right behind her. Apple was no match for their giant stallions. Breathing a sigh of disappointment, Isobel began to rein Apple in. As she pulled lightly on the reins, Apple whickered loudly and stumbled, having suddenly lost her balance.

  Having been looking over her shoulder and not at the road ahead, the faltering of her horse caught Isobel completely off balance. She was thrown flying over Apple’s head. Isobel screamed in terror as she made contact with the hard ground, landing mostly on her shoulder and skidding forward until she came to a rest.

  Her guards were about her at once.

  “Be still Lady Isobel!” Alex thundered as his large hand pushed her back against the ground.

  She struggled against him for a moment and then relented, relaxing against the ground. Her shoulder hurt something fierce but it did not sting nearly as much as her wounded pride. The last time she had been thrown from a horse was when she was but eleven years old.

  Alex’s hands traversed her body, checking for broken bones.

  “I’m well! Pray leave me be! ‘Tis only my shoulder that pains me,” she said with a hint of annoyance. Her father’s guards had a tendency to be overly cautious as well as over protective.

  “Nothing’s broken,” Alex said with relief to the guards that huddled around them. “You’ve quite a deep scrape on your shoulder. Ripped right through your gown, I’m afraid,” he said softly as he reached up and gingerly brushed some dirt away from the injury. “We’ll need to get that cleaned up.”

  “She’s thrown a shoe!” Mason shouted as he examined Apple. “It’s a wonder she remained standing, having thrown it mid-stride. She’s a good lass,” he said approvingly as he patted Apple appreciatively on the whither.

  “Are you able to stand, Lady Isobel?” Alex asked. His big brown eyes were riddled with concern. Lady Isobel had always treated him so graciously; it pained him deeply to see her injured.

  “I told you that I’m quite alright!” Isobel snapped. She quickly smiled at Alex to soften the sting of her retort. She was angry with herself for not being more cautious with Apple. She was also disappointed by the harsh words that had escaped her lips. A Lady did not take out her frustration on her guards.

  Alex hoisted Isobel to her feet and helped her brush off her dirt stained gown.

  “Thank you, Alex,” she said sweetly. She walked about experimentally, not wanting to admit that her shoulder was throbbing rather fiercely. She looked down at the flesh wound and winced. It stung badly and she gritted her teeth together as she appraised the dirt caked abrasion.

  “You shall ride with me, milady,” Alex insisted. His eyes warned her not to argue. “We’ll go to the village and get you cleaned up. Wouldn’t want Hodges to see you like this or he’ll have all of our heads,” Alex joked as he helped Isobel up onto the plaid that was rolled up behind his saddle. He swung into the saddle in front of her and made sure that she was holding on tightly to his waist before he clicked his tongue at his stallion, spurring the animal into a slow walk.

  Isobel glanced over her shoulder to see that Apple was indeed safe. Mason had tied her reins to the saddle of his stallion and the small white mare ambled slowly along beside them. Is
obel said a prayer of gratitude. Apple could have fallen and broken her leg, an injury that would have required that she was put to death. Isobel cursed her stupidity at pushing the mare so hard. Her heart ached as she watched Apple amble awkwardly along the path, her stride off kilter due to the missing shoe.

  Isobel looked down at the wound on her shoulder and released one arm from around Alex’s waist so that she could examine it. She winced as she peeled back the ruined fabric of her gown to expose the wound. It was crusted with dirt and blood and would need a good washing before it was bandaged. Isobel took in a swift, shaky breath as she dislodged a small pebble that was crusted into the raw flesh of her wound. A fresh trickle of blood arose where the pebble had been and she wiped it away with her finger.

  She had been very fortunate not to have broken her neck. Very fortunate indeed. There would be a scar left as a reminder of this reckless act. Isobel vowed to regard the scar as a reminder of how precious and fragile life could be.

  ..ooOoo..

  Isobel felt a sudden surge of panic bloom within her as Alex brought his horse to a stop in front of the blacksmith’s shop.

  “Why are we stopping here?” she asked as her heart raced wildly in her chest.

  “Apple lost a shoe. We need to get it fixed,” Alex said as he slid down from his horse and looked at her as if she had gone daft. “Ye should get down and stretch your legs for a moment,” he said as he offered her his hand and helped her down from the back of his horse.

  Tristan walked out of his shop and stopped in his tracks when he saw Isobel. His eyes locked with hers momentarily and then looked away sharply in an effort to hide his surprise.

  Isobel had been hurt and he fought the urge to go to her at once.

  “Afternoon, Finnegan,” Alex said in greeting. “Lady Isobel’s horse slipped a shoe. D’ye have time tae fit her for a new one?”

  “Aye,” Tristan nodded as he struggled to control his whirling thoughts.