For The One

by Brenna Aubrey

  Caitlyn nudged her. "Don't. Not everyone dislikes Doug."

  Ann shrugged. "I'm sorry. I just hate that he won. He's going to be more obnoxious than he normally is."

  My mouth quirked. "I can guarantee that Doug isn't going to crow too loudly about this particular victory. He won on a technicality, after all."

  Ann appeared to think about that for a moment. "William seemed uneasy out there."

  "Maybe he doesn't like crowds?" Caitlyn said.

  Ann nodded. "He is very reserved. Maybe that was it. He got distracted."

  I frowned, reflecting on that. It was more than mere distraction, though. William had Asperger's Syndrome, which meant he was on the autistic spectrum. It made sense that crowds would bother him--from what little I knew of the condition, anyway.

  Ann looked at me with a knowing grin. "I think he challenged Doug to the duel because he has feelings for you. And don't roll your eyes at me!"

  "You think everyone has feelings for me," I told her. "I think it's hormones and my trusty push-up corset." I gestured to my noticeable rack that only appeared while in period garb. Maybe that was why I loved dressing the part so much. "I wasn't even there the day that William issued the challenge."

  "Yes, but--"

  But I rode over her. "I think that William got sick of listening to Doug constantly brag about being the best fighter in our clan. He just decided to school him."

  Caitlyn called across the compound to a friend. Then she turned back to us. "So do you wish he'd won?"

  I shrugged. William not winning was going to make my impending breakup with Doug easier--or at least I hoped it would.

  When we reached Doug's tent, I told them I was going to get my stuff together. They dispersed, saying they'd see me at the planning meeting after lunch.

  I slipped inside and pulled off my medieval garb--my laced outer corset, frilly blouse and two layers of brightly colored skirts. I was ready to transform back into a woman of the twenty-first century, and I was doing it fast, before the tent's other occupant arrived.

  In fact, I'd just pulled on my jeans and buttoned them up when Doug entered the tent. He'd already removed his armor and the padding that went underneath it. Like most of the group's warriors, he wore period-authentic under-armor garments. And under all of the items he had been wearing, he appeared small, sweaty...sapped.

  I gave him a tight smile as I bent to shove my stuff into my bag. "Congratulations on the win! That was an exciting fight."

  Doug's eyes narrowed. "That was an annoying fight. That idiot has been working out. And training. He got a lot better practically overnight. Who the hell does that besides Captain America?"

  "It wasn't exactly overnight. He's had months to work on it," I said in a mild voice to calm his ruffled feathers, in spite of my resentment at the 'idiot' remark. The mellower he was, the better this would go for me. "You were more than prepared. You won, after all."

  "It was a technicality. I didn't really win. It was close. Too close for my comfort. And he took some cheap shots."

  "I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you. He seemed on edge."

  "Yeah, I figured that out after the first bout. He's such a moron that he admitted to me that the crowd freaks him out. Naturally, I used that to my advantage."

  My throat burned with bile. "Speaking of cheap shots..."

  His eyes widened. "Hey, I followed the rules. He broke them. I won fair and square."

  "On a technicality."

  His face darkened and he pulled off his sweaty shirt, wiping his face with it. "Whatever." Shit. My mouth had gotten ahead of me and now he was annoyed. Stupid move, Jenna.

  I buckled up my satchel. I'd been prepared to flee after the fight, so I was pretty much ready to go. All I had to do now was deliver the speech.

  No big deal. I'd done this before...just change the specifics and convey the generic message I'd resorted to in the past.

  "So, Doug...we need to talk, and I figure now is as good a time as any."

  He dropped his shirt and looked at me. "That sounds kind of serious."

  "Well, you know that I'm getting ready to travel with the Renaissance Faire when it starts up for the season. I thought...I thought it would be best if--"

  He held out a hand to cut me off, green eyes glittering. "Wait...what? You aren't breaking up with me, are you?"

  I hesitated, watching him.

  His hand fell back to his side, tightening into a fist. "I can't believe this! I just won that duel. I was going to convince you not to leave with the Faire people. To stay with me."

  I set my jaw. "Oh? And how were you going to do that?"

  He started counting on his fingers. "I've helped you out a lot, Jen. Even when you didn't know I was. Every time we went out together, I've paid for everything. I've bought you stuff--"

  Gross. I wasn't feeling so bad about doing this now. "Stop right there, okay? You can't buy me, and you can't convince me to do something by using your money."

  He smirked. "Oh really? So I guess you wouldn't care if, say, I bought back a certain little bauble that you so callously hocked and decided to keep it instead of giving it to you as something nice that--you know--a boyfriend would do?"

  My insides froze. The tiara? What the hell? He bought out my loan? Doug, as he was often quick to remind me, had a fantastic, secure job as an engineer and more money than he knew what to do with. Could he be telling the truth about this? And would he have the balls to hold the tiara over my head even if he had bought it back?

  "You'd better be joking, and if you are, that's a goddamn awful joke."

  He shook his head. "Not joking. I was going to give it to you tonight at dinner to celebrate my victory." He turned away from me to grab a towel. "But now I'm not so inclined."

  Shock yanked the breath from my lungs and my blood roared in my ears. My fists tightened. "I want it back."

  "Then maybe you shouldn't have hocked it to Tim."

  Doug's uncaring words stabbed my heart. His judgment had been silent but obvious when he'd driven me to an acquaintance's shop. It was always easy to judge someone else's desperate measures where money was concerned when you had more than you needed yourself.

  "You're lying," I huffed. "Tim wouldn't have sold it to you. I signed the papers, and he promised he'd give me six months to buy it back before anyone else could."

  Doug shrugged. "You were late on your last payment and I figured I'd just buy it back. I was embarrassed enough that you were late. I didn't want you to default."

  "I was four days late! I needed to wait 'til my paycheck--"

  "I was doing you a favor." He sneered. " Some gratitude you have."

  I wanted to howl in frustration. When I'd mentioned needing to hock the tiara, Doug had offered to lend me the money. Even then I'd known that was a bad idea, so I'd politely declined his offer. That was when he'd mentioned this jewelry broker he knew who could get me a better deal than a pawn shop--and who would hold on to the item for me until I could pay him off.

  Stupid, stupid Jenna. Why did I do this to myself?

  "Please..." I squeaked. "Do you really want things to end like this?"

  Doug fumbled in his bag for a clean shirt and then straightened. "I don't want to end this at all. I told you, I was going to convince you to stay."

  "By holding the tiara over my head?" That sick feeling in my stomach was increasing by the moment and tears poked the backs of my eyes. "You're a bastard. You don't even know what that tiara means to me. It's...it's..." I stopped myself. He didn't deserve to know those precious, private emotions attached to that inanimate object...memories of the hopes and fears of a scared little girl on a plane clutching it to her chest as she landed in a brand new country where she didn't even speak the language.

  He shrugged. "You're the one who wants to break up. Like I said--"

  "So you're saying if I don't break up with you, I'll get the tiara back."

  "Sure...eventually."

  I wanted to beat the shit out of him
with his own weapon. "What do you mean eventually?"

  "I mean that I was in the mood to celebrate tonight, and I was going to give it to you. I made reservations at La Terminale and everything. I take you nice places, Jen. You've got to admit--"

  "That tiara is my property. A family heirloom. You'd better give it back, Doug."

  "I believe I have a receipt that says it's currently my property."

  I almost stomped my foot. "Don't be an asshole. I'm not going to stay with you because you are trying to blackmail me, okay? That tiara..." My voice gave out, succumbing to unexpected emotion. It was no use. The more upset I got, the smugger Doug looked.

  He would not see me cry. If it were in my power, I wouldn't let him make me cry. The last man to ever make me cry was Brock, and then my very soul had poured out into the ocean of tears I'd shed for him. Only him. I could never let myself get that way again.

  "Fuck you, Doug. You haven't heard the last of me. I'll take it to the clan council."

  "Drama queen, much?" He rolled his eyes, and I burned with so much hatred that I wanted to slap him. "I'm sure the clan council will think you're as heartless as I do for selling some priceless inheritance your daddy gave to you."

  I took a threatening step toward him, and for a split second there was fear in his eyes. But I couldn't say anything and the tears were clogging and blurring everything.

  He'd pay. I'd so make him pay.

  I scooped up my bag and, spinning on my heel, I stormed out of the tent and raced toward the edge of the encampment. The tears were coming fast and I couldn't let anyone see them. With my head down, my bag slung over my shoulder, I sped up, fists tightened at my sides. I was so close to escape--

  Only to slam into a solid body as I rounded the very last tent in the row. I'd been moving so fast that I couldn't stop my momentum and thus landed flat on my ass.

  I sat back in shock, taking a few seconds to gather my wits. When I looked up, it was straight into the face of Doug's nemesis. Despite my best efforts, there were tears on my cheeks and I was sure the expression on my face screamed helplessness.

  For his part, he looked stunned, then bent immediately to help me up. My eyes fixed on the thick column of his throat rising up from his open tunic, which also exposed the very top of his chest. There was a thin patch of dark hair over solid muscle.

  Doug was right. William had been working out for months--and it showed.

  He looked...amazing. Especially with so few clothes on. William had always been a handsome guy, but his preparations for the fight had honed him. Now he was tall, dark, handsome and muscular. And where Doug had appeared small and tired, William looked vibrant and powerful.

  He extended a hand, his bulging forearm peeking out from the cuff of his rolled-up sleeve. Damn. Even through my tears it was hard to ignore.

  "Mistress Kovac. Pardon." He addressed me as most did while we were still roleplaying among our clan. Yeah, it was geeky as hell, but it was also fun. At least I thought so most of the time--like when I wasn't ragingly pissed off.

  I quickly ducked my head to hide my face. "It's fine, William. You're fine." I grabbed his hand and let him pull me to my feet. Then I bent to get my bag, but he was faster, snatching it up for me. "I'll carry this for you."

  As was his custom, he avoided looking directly at me. This suited my purposes, for I had no wish for anyone to see me like this. I reached to take the bag from him and kept my face down. "No need. Thanks. I'm very sorry for your defeat. You didn't deserve to lose." He handed me the bag slowly, reluctantly, and I hooked it over my shoulder.

  With a big sniff, I turned to go, but his big hand landed on the top of my arm, just below my shoulder, and the warmth I felt through the thin fabric of my shirt did something to me. I swallowed, resisting the urge to shrug him off. I resolved not to be rude to him just because I was pissed off at another man.

  "I beg your pardon," he said in that same stilted roleplaying mode. "But why would you say that?"

  I shook my head, irritation gnawing at the edge of my mood. "What? Why would I say what?"

  "That I deserved to win. I violated the rules..."

  "You were tense."

  His hand fell away from my arm. I chanced a glance at his face. He was staring at my shoulder--likely the closest he'd come to looking at my face--and frowning.

  "How did you know?"

  I shrugged. "Just an educated guess. You've been working hard. For months. I can tell..." My nose was starting to run from the tears I'd shed, so I sniffed--louder than I would have liked. Annoyed with myself again, I swiped my sleeve over my face like a preschooler.

  "I gotta go." The hand was back on my arm again in a split second. "What?" I hissed.

  "You're crying."

  I suppressed a sigh and an eye roll. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," I huffed.

  He frowned and ignored the snark--another habit of his. "Why?"

  I wondered how much to tell him. "Um. Someone has something that belongs to me and won't give it back."

  "Who stole from you?"

  I sighed. "It's not stealing...exactly. Look, I know it's only late morning, but my day has already gotten off to a bad start and it's a really long story."

  "So shorten it."

  I gritted my teeth, considering. The clan elders liked William. He had sway with them, from what I could see. He was a stalwart member of the group, and with his handy blacksmithing skills, he commanded respect. Maybe telling him would be a good place to start. He could get them to make that jerk give me my tiara back.

  "Doug has something of mine."

  He stiffened, and I only belatedly remembered Ann's observation that William liked me. I still didn't believe it, but...in case he was going to take this personally, I needed to tread carefully. I bit my lip. What to do?

  "What did Doug take from you?" His handsome face darkened.

  "Well, he didn't take it from me. He...he bought it from a broker."

  "But it belongs to you?"

  "Yes." I coughed. "I needed some money quickly, and it was the only thing I owned that was valuable enough to secure a loan."

  "He bought it from the broker..." he repeated, his voice lowering. I couldn't tell what he was implying. Maybe he was about to back up Doug's assertion that since Doug had bought it, it belonged to him.

  "He...he was there the day I signed the papers. The guy is a friend of his and asked him to cosign my loan in case I defaulted--which I did not. Doug says he bought it back for me, but since I broke up with him, now he doesn't want to give it to me."

  William chewed on that for a moment, his face stern. I was about to give up on this course of action when he finally spoke again. "How much was your loan for?"

  "Two thousand dollars."

  No change in that stern expression whatsoever, and he was still staring at my shoulder.

  "And how much did Doug pay to buy it back?"

  "The full buyback amount was...five thousand."

  William's mouth dropped open. "A hundred and fifty percent markup?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Please don't judge. I was desperate."

  "No one should ever be that desperate."

  My hackles rose. I couldn't help it. "That's easy for you to say."

  His face clouded. "It's not easy and it's not hard. It's just a fact."

  "It's your opinion."

  His eyes narrowed. "I'll get your item back. What is it?"

  Oh goddess, this was embarrassing. I was making a big deal out of a tiara. I could see the princess jokes coming, but no one knew what it really meant to me. It was a symbol of something I'd lost and could never get back. It was mine when so little else really was.

  "It's a...it's jewelry," I hedged.

  "Okay. I'll speak to Doug now."

  "That's not going to help. He won't budge. I was hoping you might go to the clan elders."

  William appeared to think that over. "I'll speak to Doug," he repeated, then turned on his heel and headed back the way I had come--straight f
or Doug's tent.

  Oh shit.

  Chapter 2

  William

  I'm winding my way between tents and encampments. On my right, there's shiny cookware, all period authentic, set around a stone-ringed fire pit. Atop the ring is a metal spit that I worked on last year in my own smithy. On my left, there is a weapons rack with a boastful display of wares for sale. In the next camp over, Ginny is laying out her homemade jewelry, hoping customers will wander over from the battle ring.

  I can smell the preparations for lunchtime wafting over from the eating area. The food is cooked traditionally and authentically to the period, as much as possible. Our weekend outing is just getting started, and I'll have blacksmith orders coming in the entire time. It will be a busy few weeks in my workshop.

  But right now I'm not thinking about that. I'm thinking through the words I want to say to Doug. With each step I take that brings me closer to his tent, another phrase or sentence comes to me. It's always easier for me in conversations when I've prepared most or all of what I need to say beforehand. Or with written notes. That's often best, but I have no time to do that now.

  Jenna's been tagging behind me the whole way, interrupting my thoughts, trying to stop me from talking to Doug for some reason. I'm ten feet from his tent when she clamps both of her thin hands around my wrist in an attempt to yank me around to face her. If I were to train her how to fight, I could show her how to do that properly. My eyes dart to her hands--specifically, her wrists. She has the most delicate wrists. Elegant. Like a swallow's wings. I hesitate, but I don't look up.

  I can't look in her eyes. And I hope she doesn't ask me to.

  "Wil--stop."

  She called me Wil. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I frown for a moment, still studying her hands. Her long fingers are digging into the muscles of my forearm. She holds me firmly, and I like that feeling. I usually don't like being called by nicknames, or being grabbed by people. But this is different. This feels...special. Like how holidays and birthdays are supposed to feel, yet how I never feel on those days.

  "Jenna," I say quietly, though I'm confused and I don't know exactly what I want to say until the words are vocalized. That unsettles me. "Let me be your champion."

  She's silent for a moment and I chance a look at her face. I'm relieved to see she's not looking at me. She's looking down and her mouth is open...like she's trying to breathe. Slowly, she lets up on the pressure on my arm, and I pull it back and away from her. I'm regretting it even as I'm doing it.