The warriors galloped around the arena twice, then they broke the line and each headed in a different direction. The noise in the arena shook the wood beneath Emma’s feet. She gripped the edge of the box and grinned at Brianagh and Nioclas, who stood next to her.
Aidan rode over, expertly reigning in his horse, and he made a show of walking the beast back and forth, looking at each woman who waved and called out to him. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as though he were contemplating which woman to give his flag to when suddenly he vaulted off his horse and hopped over the banister, into the crowd.
Noise unlike any Emma had ever heard ensued. Clansmen were cheering madly, women were jostling each other to get to him, but he charged up the steps and stopped directly in front of Emma.
“A flag, my lady?” he asked, unable to contain his smile.
“How much does that chain mail weigh?” Emma wondered.
“A very savvy publicist once told me that responding to a question with another question just invites more questions.” He held the flag out, and she took it, momentarily speechless, as the world narrowed to just the two of them.
“Do you forget nothing?” she asked, emotion welling in her throat.
He wagged his eyebrows playfully, then offered his cheek, waiting for her kiss. She leaned in, and at the last moment, he turned, capturing her lips with his. He didn’t linger, but he gave her a quick bite on her lower lip before pulling away and facing the crowd in triumph.
Emma covered her mouth and started laughing.
He shot her a wink over his shoulder and said, “It weighs about fifty pounds,” before he charged back down the steps, hopped the banister, and vaulted himself onto his horse.
“Showoff,” Emma murmured, a bubble of joy enveloping her. She let out a breath.
Emma watched with amusement as Shane brought his horse to the Muskerry clan and offered a flag of green to Brigit, who curtsied before accepting it. She clasped it to her chest, and he tipped his cheek toward her. She leaned forward and gave him a very chaste kiss, and the Muskerry and Monaghan clans cheered.
Brianagh gave her a smile of relief. Match saved.
• • •
Aidan shifted, ignoring the sweat under his chain mail as he stood next to his horse. He placed a calming hand on the beast’s neck, murmuring to it as he watched a rival clansman land in a cloud of dust.
Aidan hadn’t jousted in almost ten years. It used to be his favorite sport; unseating a man from atop his horse gave a feeling of triumph like no other. Of course, being the unseated gave a feeling of pain like no other. He remembered nursing a very sore backside for the better part of a se’ennight during his training years.
“Do you remember how the healers here set a broken bone?” Reilly asked from behind him.
Aidan’s horse snorted and danced a couple of steps away, and Aidan patted the beast reassuringly. He murmured to the horse, “That’s exactly how I feel about him too.”
Reilly leaned against the stable wall, watching the now-hobbling warrior make his way off the field. “No one’s been able to unseat Monaghan.”
“Or perhaps they’re allowing him a good show for his soon-to-be bride,” Aidan responded.
The recently unseated clansman made his way into the stable, holding his wrist and swearing.
“Is he that good, then?” Reilly asked the defeated warrior.
The man breathed hard and nodded. “Is the healer nearby?”
“I believe she is down there,” Reilly replied, pointing. “Back of the stables. Get in line.”
He limped off, muttering about fools on horses and hurting his sword arm.
“You’re sure?” Reilly asked in his most uninterested voice. “Because—and this is important, so keep those ears open, lad—I wouldn’t want you to forget that you’ve still got to unseat me to get to your lady.”
Aidan slammed his helmet down and dug his heels into the horse’s side, spraying a satisfactory amount of dirt into Reilly’s face.
If Emma was stuck here, Aidan would ensure her happiness. He would make her smile every day, show her how important she was to him, show her how much he loved her.
He definitely loved Emma.
But he knew she might choose the future over him. The thought twisted like hot metal in his gut. Could she love him back? He wasn’t sure how to know. Last night, he’d panicked when he’d heard the detachment in her voice about being handfasted. He sought to arm her with the knowledge that she wasn’t being forced to do anything, but she’d taken his comment about marriage entirely the wrong way. And as the conversation wore on, Aidan realized that he loved her enough to let her go…and that she didn’t love him enough to stay. Not that he would ask that of her—he knew exactly what she would be giving up.
But a part of him wished she might want to give it up for him.
The crowd, as expected, went crazy when he galloped out, and he waved his MacWilliam flag as he sized up his first competitor. Monaghan had already bested four of the eight, and he showed signs of fatigue; his posture wasn’t as straight, and he was rolling his right shoulder to ease the pain.
The horn blew, and Aidan cleared his mind of everything except Monaghan’s sore shoulder. The two men brought their horses to their respective ends of the track, and at the second horn, they took their positions. Aidan hefted the long, blunt-tipped lance from the squire. He tucked the handle tightly against his side and raised his shield, and he steadied the horse with his knees.
The third horn blew, and the horses charged, one on either side of the beam. Aidan urged his horse to a breakneck speed and, just before impact, he raised the lance slightly, loosened his grip on the handle, raised his shield to meet Monaghan’s lance, and braced himself for the impact.
His lance hit Monaghan squarely in the shoulder, on his bone. Monaghan toppled from his horse, unable to hang on. He rolled when he hit the dirt, showing Aidan he was not seriously injured, and Aidan slowed his own horse.
Aidan dismounted and walked toward Monaghan, who, despite the hard fall, was standing on his own. They reached out and shook hands, more gently than they would normally, and Monaghan grimaced and called him a foul name.
“To the victor, my friend,” Aidan said. They both glanced up toward Emma, who was hugging herself and watching them silently. Her golden hair, piled atop her head in a complicated pattern of braids, highlighted her beauty, even as she stood in the shade of the laird’s box.
“You are a damn lucky man,” Monaghan said to Aidan.
Aidan nodded once, then watched as his competitor took himself from the field to hollers and heckles.
Aidan gave a sweeping bow toward Emma, then returned to his horse amidst the cheers. He prepared himself for the next competitor…then the next, and the next, and the next.
When he stood on the field, victorious as the last jouster standing, he looked up toward Emma, wondering if she understood how truly serious he was about marrying her.
The horn blew again, and Aidan spun around. “What the hell?”
“A late entry, my laird!” one of the squires called out to Nioclas, who nodded regally and took his seat again.
“Bastard,” Aidan grumbled, knowing that Nick was only allowing a late entry to show the MacWilliams’ prowess. He had barely managed to keep his seat with Muskerry, his final competitor. His legs ached, his back was stiff, and his arm cramped in places he didn’t realize were even part of the extremity.
“The O’Malley clan!” the squire called out.
The crowd hushed for a moment, unsure as to what an O’Malley was doing there, but they apparently decided they didn’t care. Cheers, hoots, and boos intermingled as Reilly took his place at the end of the beam, waiting for Aidan to mount his steed and fight one more time.
Aidan cursed him. Reilly gave him a salute.
Aidan mounted, then brought his horse around and took his position once more. He snapped his helmet down, slowed his breathing, and waited, poised, for the sound of the horn. Whe
n it came, he encouraged the horse to faster speeds, hoping to knock Reilly off-balance with a quick joust to the shoulder.
Reilly slammed into him with a force Aidan hadn’t felt from any other, and he tottered on his seat as Reilly’s lance snapped in half, wood shards spraying around him. His horse, bless him, took that moment to turn, which was all that saved Aidan from making his own cloud of dust.
Aidan swore and saw Reilly watching him closely. He very subtly rotated his right shoulder—where Reilly had almost, but not quite hit—and held back his grin when Reilly’s eyes narrowed. He spun his own horse around to take the position again.
Aidan raised his shield slightly, as though to protect his shoulder, which left his left shoulder all but exposed. He traded his damaged lance for a new one, pleased that he’d made at least some contact with Reilly’s shield, which, even from where he sat, looked roughed up.
The horn sounded, and Aidan kept his shield over his right shoulder. At the last moment, he moved it to the left, deftly blocking Reilly’s blow, and caught Reilly full on in the stomach, where he hadn’t been expecting Aidan to be able to hit. Reilly fell spectacularly, and when the dust cleared, he remained seated, knees bent, with his forearms resting on his knees.
Aidan didn’t bother to get off his horse. Instead, he walked the beast over to Reilly and shook his head.
“Why did you let me win?”
Reilly squinted up. “Who says I let you?”
Aidan gave him a suspicious glance. “I get the feeling you don’t fail at anything.”
“Strange,” Reilly mused, “I get that same feeling about you.”
Aidan reached a hand down, and Reilly took it, popping onto his feet as though he hadn’t just fallen from a tall horse. The crowd cheered, and Reilly looked at him once more.
“You must realize that I’m not your biggest challenge. That is up in the stands, with very little idea as to what happens next.”
Aidan dismounted. “Do I have a choice, O’Malley?”
Reilly looked at him silently for a moment. Then, softly, he said, “I don’t know, Aidan.”
He walked off the field as the MacWilliams jumped the barrier, heading for Aidan. Reilly tipped his head toward Nick, Bri and Emma, leaving Aidan standing, victorious yet disheartened, in the middle of a horde of happy, boisterous clansmen.
He’d never felt more alone.
Chapter 18
When Emma finally tore her eyes away from Aidan, who was accepting help from clansmen to remove the chain mail, she grinned widely at Brianagh.
“I can’t believe he won!” she cried, excited. “I can’t believe I just saw a real tournament!”
Brianagh’s smile was tentative. She wrung her hands nervously. “Um, Emma, there’s something you should know.”
“He has to do swords next?” Emma guessed, craning her neck toward the swordplay area.
Brianagh exchanged a glance with Nioclas. “No, that’s not it.”
Laird Monaghan was jostling his way through the MacWilliam crowd, headed toward them. Bri was saying something, but Emma was again distracted by the sheer amount of food stuck in the laird’s beard. She wondered if she’d missed a food hawker during the event. She would have loved to try the medieval equivalent of popcorn, or a snow cone, or even a hot dog.
She wrinkled her nose. On second thought…no on the hot dog.
“Emma, pay attention! You need to know—” Brianagh stopped short as Monaghan reached their box.
Laird Monaghan said, in very broken English, to Emma, “Well, that settles that, I suppose. In case you were wondering, I thought you’d make a lovely Monaghan. But the Muskerry lass will do nicely, too.”
“Um, thank you?” Emma replied uncertainly.
“As you’re his ward, it should be easy enough to settle the papers,” Laird Monaghan said. He directed his gaze at Nioclas. “My son is disappointed, you see.”
Nioclas inclined his head. “I see.”
Laird Monaghan nodded his head slowly. “I do not want to become involved in any…conflict…with the Muskerrys. They outnumber us here, aye?”
Nioclas agreed.
“Then I suggest, for all clans involved, that the ceremony happen immediately.” He turned his attention back to Emma. “Before my headstrong offspring gets any ideas in his thick skull.”
Emma thought Shane seemed intelligent, but she wasn’t going to contradict his father, so she agreed enthusiastically without any idea as to what the man was talking about.
Laird Monaghan gave a brisk nod, then made his way back down the steps.
Brianagh groaned loudly. “This is a disaster.”
“Perhaps you ought to take Lady Emma to her room for immediate preparations, and explain to her what’s happened,” Nioclas said grimly. “I’ll find that arse and tell him he needs to be in my solar to sign papers.”
“Wh-what?” Emma said, looking back and forth between them. “I’m not getting the warm fuzzies here.”
Brianagh signaled to Kane, who immediately brought forth her personal guard, before saying, “I’ll explain it once we get to your chamber. Kane—send for Sinead immediately.”
“Who’s Sinead?” Emma asked, allowing Brianagh to steer her out of the box.
“My best dressmaker.”
Emma licked her dry lips nervously. “Why would you need your best dressmaker?”
Brianagh set her jaw. “Because Aidan never breaks a vow. Let’s leave it at that until we reach your chamber.”
Silently, Emma hurried toward the castle, her stomach sinking. Brianagh called out instructions to various people as they made their way to her chamber. Emma didn’t know what she was saying, but she understood the urgent tone.
Brianagh flung open the door, and an older woman was standing in the center of the chamber, surrounded by bolts of fabric, a small stool, and six teenage girls. Right behind them, four men lugged a large tub into the room and placed it off to the side.
“Right,” Brianagh said briskly, rubbing her hands together. To Emma, she said, “We have four hours.” To Sinead, she said something in Gaelic, and the woman blinked, then began barking orders like a general.
Two of the girls came forward and grabbed Emma’s arms, hauling her to the stool, where they encouraged her to step up onto it. Sinead placed her arms in a T, and Emma looked at Brianagh in concern.
“Okay. First things first. Don’t pass out,” Brianagh warned. “Sinead will poke you with a needle to revive you. I’m not kidding.”
As if to demonstrate the point, Sinead stuck a long, thick needle into her mouth, then began to measure Emma.
“Next. Last night, Aidan announced that you were handfasted. Shane took that as a challenge. When Aidan charged out today, he cut Shane off to reach the MacWilliam side, and, in going back and forth in front of the clan, didn’t allow him the opportunity to come anywhere near you. Shane was not happy, but thankfully, he went with his second choice.”
“Brigit,” Emma supplied.
“Yes. And when Aidan unseated Shane, he was telling him, in stupid man-code, that you were his, and to back off.” Bri chewed her lip. “Laird Monaghan was, in no uncertain terms, demanding that you become unavailable to his son immediately.”
“I’m not available to him, though,” Emma pointed out. “Aidan already announced we’re engaged.”
“Which, if you remember, is a perfect excuse to snatch you away,” Brianagh reminded her.
“Why would he do that? He seems completely logical and level-headed. Ow!”
Sinead barked something at her.
“She said to stop fidgeting,” Bri translated.
“I barely moved!” Emma complained.
“Breathing constitutes fidgeting,” Bri replied apologetically. “So, there’s more. No—don’t respond. Just try to be completely still. Last night, at dinner, Aidan made you a vow, did he not?”
“He didn’t say the word vow…”
Bri snorted. “I like how you’re trying to twist this one,
Em, really. But you know, and I know, he made a vow that when he bested Reilly, he was going to marry you. Here.” She glanced at Emma nervously. “Now.”
“Now,” Emma echoed, realization dawning. “Wait, now, as in, now, now?”
“Yes. Now, now.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“I’m being measured for a wedding dress?” Emma asked incredulously as the girls each held up a bolt of fabric for her.
“Pick a color?” Bri responded hesitantly.
“I have to sit down,” Emma said, stepping down from the stool.
“Not until you pick a color,” Brianagh said, again apologetically, as Sinead chased Emma back onto the stool with the needle. “She’s all business, all the time. For what it’s worth, I think the gold would look stunning with your hair and eyes.”
“Fine. Gold,” Emma said, exasperated. “This is ridiculous. I can’t marry him. I can’t!” She paled. “Does this mean I’m stuck here, in the past?”
Bri said something in Gaelic to Sinead, who immediately began barking orders to the girls.
“I don’t know,” Bri admitted, then added softly, “but if you are, believe me, there are worse fates than being Aidan’s wife.”
Emma put her head in her hands. “My choices aren’t that great,” she said, her voice muffled. “Marry a man who doesn’t love me, or face one who wants to kill me.”
Sinead patted her shoulder. Emma smiled at her gratefully, then realized the woman was trying to get her off the stool.
All business. Right.
She got down, and a thought occurred to her. “Bri, if I marry Aidan here, but then can go back, am I still married to him?”
“That’s dicey,” Bri replied slowly. “If you are sent back without him…well, who would know, right? And the vows do say ‘until death do you part.’ And, technically, he’d be long dead.”
An Enchanted Spring: Mists of Fate - Book Two Page 22