by Sasha Lord
Kalial sighed again and slid another pin in Kassandra’s mass of curls and secured the wig as Triu-cair scrambled up on the wardrobe and chattered at the ladies. He grasped a red feather in his tiny hands and waved it over his head, mimicking Kassandra.
“You beast!” she cried as she sprang up and chased him around the room. The weasel jumped from the tops of the furniture to the floor, then scurried under the bed and shrieked. Kassandra dropped to the floor and peered under the mattress. “If you want food, you’ll have to come out eventually,” she called. “Then I’ll get my revenge.” She fished under the bed, but Triu-cair scurried beyond her reach.
“Kassandra!” Kalial snapped, her patience running thin. “I told you that he would cause trouble. There are events starting on the field, which is an appropriate place to begin your introductions, but the weasel must stay in your chambers. Leave him be and brush your gown off so we can attend the joust. We are already much delayed.”
Kassandra sat back on her heels. “Joust? Will the Highland lords be attending?”
“Presumably. If we are not too late already. But, Kassandra, please mind your manners. No more disastrous meetings like today, all right?”
Kassandra peeked under the bed again and shook her finger at Triu-cair. “Stay here,” she admonished. “I don’t want Kalial to get angry with us.”
Triu-cair sulked in a corner and covered his nose with his tail.
Hoping he would remain there, Kassandra rose and wiped the dust from her gown. She felt nervous and anxious now that the moment was at hand. Who would her dream man turn out to be? What would he look like? For a brief moment, she recalled the sensation of Cadedryn Caenmore’s hard chest as she was flung against him. He had felt firm and powerful, very much in control of the heaving stallion. The feeling had upset her and she had lashed out at him, wanting to see his calm disrupted.
She smiled privately, remembering him tumbling to the ground and glaring up at her. She had managed to take him down a peg or two!
They left their chambers and made their way to the courtyard. Two men-at-arms fell in behind them as they walked over to the festival. The event was half over and a large scoreboard with the lists was partially filled out. The lesser lords were entered first, and the winner of each of their matches was paired with the next contestant. It was a system that gave the higher lords a considerable advantage for they could relax for the first part of the day and be rested and ready for their event, while the underlings were tired and exhausted before the sun was high in the sky. But fairness was not considered a critical aspect of the event.
Kassandra surreptitiously pulled the dirk from the folds of her skirt and gazed at the board where familial insignias were hung. Nothing there even remotely resembled the design on the knife and Kassandra frowned in discouragement.
“Come along, Kassandra,” Kalial admonished her. “We have seats in the yellow tent.”
“I’d like to look around, if you don’t mind,” Kassandra replied.
“Kassandra!” Kalial said sharply. “You cannot wander about unescorted.”
“One of the men will come with me,” she said, glancing at the soldiers.
One stepped forward. “I will accompany the young miss,” he agreed.
Sighing with resignation, Kalial nodded. “Find me when you give up searching for your mystery man. Remember, this is the king’s court. You cannot wander about into unpopulated areas and it is highly inappropriate to address anyone to whom you have not been properly introduced.”
“I know, sister . . .” Kassandra answered as she waved her hand, but her attention was already focused on a shaded area where many men had gathered to share cups of warm ale. She fully intended to wander at will in search of her dream man, despite her sister’s warning.
She just hoped she would not encounter Cadedryn Caenmore again.
Chapter 4
Kassandra walked through the throng for much of the afternoon, searching every man’s face with hopeful determination, but as the hours passed, she became discouraged. Several times she felt drawn in a certain direction, only to come across Cadedryn Caenmore. Each time, she turned quickly away, unwilling to talk with him, yet feeling oddly disturbed by his presence.
At last, she sat on a bench and propped her chin in her hands. This was going to be much more difficult than she had imagined.
“Milady?” the soldier asked respectfully. “I see the garderobe. Will you be fine if I step aside for a moment?”
Kassandra waved him away with a smile. “I am well able to be alone for a few minutes,” she replied. “In fact, I would enjoy some peaceful solitude.”
He nodded thankfully and left to relieve himself.
Kassandra spied an open field, barren of the exhausting mass of people. She rose and, after glancing about to ensure her guard was not near, headed over to the empty area, passing a group of men lounging in the shadows of a tent. As she began walking, tremors fluttered up and down her arms and her heart started pounding. She caught her breath, certain her dream man must be near.
Inside the tent, Cadedryn, Curtis and three other lords were preparing their equipment for the tourney. “Who is that?” one lord asked another as they watched her walk past. “I’ve never seen her before.”
His companion shook his head. “Don’t know her, but I wouldn’t mind meeting her. Fair skin, fine figure . . . must be some lady’s companion.”
Cadedryn felt the hairs on his arms rise, and an unfamiliar tingling rippled though his body. He glanced around, trying to find the cause of his sudden unease as well as the source of the other men’s comments. Then he spied Kassandra. All day long he had caught glimpses of her. It seemed that no matter where he went, she was already there, and each time he saw her, he was reminded of her unusual behavior on the road.
Dragging his gaze away and looking back down at the leather strap he was inspecting, he forced an uninterested grunt. “That, my lords, is the ill-mannered relative of Lady McTaver. I advise you to stay well clear of her shrewish tongue and easily roused temper.”
The men fell silent, each weighing his warning against the woman’s obvious appeal. “It would take an awfully nasty witch to turn me away from such a comely prospect,” one said.
“I’ll admit she has some physical virtues,” Cadedryn said grudgingly, remembering the feel of her body pressed against his. He turned to Curtis and motioned to his gauntlets. He had to escape. Immediately. The memory of her did things to his body she shouldn’t be able to do. He needed to escape to where no woman was allowed so he would not risk seeing her before the event. He wanted to do well so that the king would take notice of his presence and his intended bride would find favor with his skills.
“I’ll leave you to your perusing. My name is about to be called,” Cadedryn mumbled, then left the ale tent and, accompanied by Curtis, entered the tent where the rest of his armor was being polished. Just before the flap closed, he shot a look over his shoulder. Kassandra had paused and was gazing around with uncertainty. A faint breeze flirted with her skirts and pressed them briefly against her legs.
He turned away as he felt an unexpected flicker of compassion for her obvious discomfort. She did not seem at ease and was already bearing the brunt of several dubious looks from strolling ladies and their escorts. She looked out of place and apprehensive. He understood her feelings. He, too, was feeling uneasy.
Shaking his head, he tried to forget about her and focus on what was at hand. Her worries were not his. He had earned the right to attend this joust and was finally in a position to confront the king and ask for the return of his rightful title. He had no time for naive misses.
Curtis followed him into the tent and helped him don his armor; then they both walked outside toward the mounting block. Cadedryn motioned to the groomsman to bring his stallion forward.
“Good luck,” Curtis said. “I confirmed that Lady Corine and her mother, Lady Morgana, are in attendance. Lady Corine bade me give this to you.” He held a yel
low scarf out to Cadedryn.
Cadedryn looked at it curiously.
“Tie it upon your lance. It will announce your courtship of Lady Corine.”
“You have spoken with her already,” Cadedryn commented.
Curtis smiled. “She is a lovely lass, witty and sharp. She reminded me of the frog I put in her soup when we were children.”
Cadedryn tied the scarf, his thoughts drifting. Curtis’s reminiscences of childhood pranks were hardly important at this time. Instead, he needed to concentrate on impressing the court with his expertise. “I am still awaiting her formal acceptance of my proposal. Perhaps this joust will encourage her to a speedy decision.”
Curtis lowered his eyes as a frown flickered across his face. Corine had not sounded as receptive as they had hoped. She had insisted that she would do as her mother wished her to do. Only after much cajoling had Curtis been able to convince her to give him a favor to place upon Cadedryn’s lance. “Fight as you always do,” Curtis advised. “She will be suitably awed.”
“As long as she gives me the answer I desire. I am tired of waiting upon her leisure.”
“It is a game all women play. She is like a finely feathered hawk taking its time returning to its master. The bird may fly about for the moment but knows it must eventually heed its master’s call.”
“Aptly put, Curtis. Once she learns her place, she will make a fine wife. Especially with her dower lands lying adjacent to mine.”
Curtis nodded. “Aye. A wise political choice indeed. The king is pleased, evidenced by his invitation to court. As long as there are no complications, your father’s disgrace will be erased by the union of the Fergus and Caenmore properties.” He laughed, although his eyes held no humor. “Once your lands are joined, my property will be only a small valley snuggled next to your vast holdings.”
Cadedryn slid his helmet over his head, muffling his voice. “My family’s disgrace will be erased,” he confirmed. “Liam was supposed to marry Morgana, and in jilting her, he infuriated many important families. When I marry Corine Fergus, I will be completing the union that was supposed to be formed a generation ago. My father was a fool to throw away his name and position. He suffered greatly and thrust that disgrace upon his only son. I will regain my title and lift my family into favor. My children will not be subject to the same ridicule I have had to endure.”
Cadedryn clambered onto the mounting block and settled into his saddle. “Go and make sure she is in the tents. I will limber up in the exercise yard.” Cadedryn reined his horse and rode away.
Curtis stared after him, scowling at the dismissive tone in Cadedryn’s command. This invitation to court was exactly what Cadedryn had been waiting for. Although Curtis wanted what was best for his friend, he also felt a twinge of jealousy for Cadedryn’s good fortune. Like brothers, they had always battled for supremacy. Cadedryn often won, but Curtis always had the superiority of a title. If Cadedryn regained his earldom, Curtis’s lesser lordship would be negligible and even that contest would be lost.
Curtis shrugged, chuckling to himself. His father always said that their conflict made them stronger men. They were each forced to be better and reach higher. Their competitiveness had created an unbreakable bond between them and they could not love each other more than if they were truly brothers. In fact, Laird McCafferty had ofttimes commented that Curtis appeared to love his foster brother more than his own father.
“McCafferty!” Lord Dunbar called out to Curtis from where he was lounging against a tent pole. “You should place your allegiance with more care. Caenmore is nothing more than a peasant bastard.”
Curtis smiled amiably, but a warning light entered his eye. “You are the one who should mind your friends and allies, for the king has called Caenmore home. I would not speak of him in such words, for to do so may result in your own disfavor.”
“The king grows soft. Caenmore should not be allowed at court. He should be banished to a hovel and set to rut with pigs.”
Curtis threw back his head and laughed. “You dare say such things when his back is turned, but I challenge you to say them once you are facing the point of his sword.”
Dunbar shuffled and glanced over his shoulder toward where Cadedryn had ridden away.
Curtis took a step forward and cocked his head. “Aye, watch your back, for his swordsmanship is unparalleled. I daresay even someone as fat and lazy as you has heard tales of his prowess.”
“It does not erase his breeding. Even peasants can fight, but it takes a well-born man to lead.”
“And how many armies have you led? I thought not. If I had a choice to follow you or him, I would not hesitate to choose Caenmore.”
The lord huffed and crossed his arms as he narrowed his gaze. “You speak with great loyalty.”
“As I should. He saved my life in battle many a time. I owe much to him.”
“I advise you to take care, McCafferty. His family has been known to betray an oath; thus I would not place much weight upon his word.”
Cadedryn smiled with satisfaction as his horse cantered around the warming ring. Everything was finally coming to fruition. As soon as he wed Corine Fergus, all would be settled and he would regain his title. His father’s disgrace would be erased at last, and he could resume his social and political standing.
Cadedryn had fought for years on foreign soil before the king had sent for his return, but it had finally come. He would not allow anything to disrupt his plans.
His horse snorted and tossed his head, disturbing Cadedryn from his musings. From the corner of his eye, he saw a piece of silk fluttering in the breeze, causing his horse to look over in interest. Irritated, Cadedryn peered through the slits in his helmet to locate the source and saw Kassandra leaning against the railing, her hand outstretched toward an untamed mare. He frowned and sent his horse cantering toward her. The woman was not supposed to be in this area! Did she have no common sense at all?
“Lady Kassandra!” he called out as his stallion pranced over toward her. “You are not allowed behind the tents. Please depart immediately!”
Kassandra twisted to face him. Her mantle blew across her cheeks and her skirts tangled, making her trip and fall. “Must you always cause trouble wherever you go?” she grumbled as she picked herself up and brushed at the dirt on her skirt. “I came here to be alone.”
Cadedryn stared at her in amazement, his green eyes boring into hers through the slits in his visor. “Milady, you are the one causing difficulty. Ladies are not allowed in the exercise ring, especially without an escort. Begone, and rejoin the others.”
“You are an ill-mannered horse’s ass,” Kassandra snapped. “You have no right to order me about.”
Cadedryn sat back, stunned by her response. “Ladies do not speak such curses. You would do well to learn some manners.”
“Bastard!” Kassandra spat.
Cadedryn froze. “You have used the one word that I have heard all too often. Why not add ‘peasant’ in front and you will be like every other person at court.”
Kassandra frowned, sensing the real pain behind his words. “It seems that we have reached an impasse,” she said softly. “We have both struck a sensitive area without intending to. Shall we call a truce?”
He stared down at her beautiful eyes. They seemed familiar, yet he had never seen such brilliance before. They shone with sincerity and his anger eased. He nodded. “Truce, but you must take care at court. Even small mistakes can brand you with a soiled reputation and make your life untenable.”
She smiled, her coral lips curling in a gentle smile. “I am back here because I was getting discouraged. Please don’t tell Kalial.”
Unable to refuse her smile, Cadedryn relented. “Can I be of assistance?”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “I am searching for someone.”
“Of course. Anything to oblige.”
Kassandra pulled the dirk from her pocket and held it up in the sunlight. “I have been searching for the owner of this
weapon, but have not seen one with similar engraving anywhere. Do you perchance recognize it?”
Cadedryn stared at the dirk in shock. He clenched his thighs together convulsively, causing his stallion to rear.
Kassandra scrambled back. “Take care!” she admonished as he struggled to calm the beast.
Cadedryn forced his horse to stand still, then reached for the knife. “How did you come by this?” he questioned harshly, his gauntleted hand open to receive it.
Kassandra pulled back just out of his reach. “You sound angry. Why?”
“How—did—you—come—by—it?” he repeated carefully.
Kassandra’s gaze widened and she stepped closer. “Do you recognize it?”
“It does not belong to you. Where did you find it?” He reached out again and twitched his fingers, indicating that she should hand it over immediately.
“I did not find it exactly. I—”
“Did you steal it?” he interrupted.
“Of course not!” Kassandra cried.
“Then how did you come to have such a valuable talisman in your possession? It is a very important weapon. How much do you want for it?”
“I have no intention of selling it,” Kassandra replied, affronted. “I want to return it to its rightful owner.”
“Then give it to me. It belongs to a member of my family.”
Kassandra’s heart raced. “Truly?” she cried. “Who? Your cousin? Your brother? Where is he?” She spun around as if she could spot the person immediately. “I should have known. That is why I thought you disturbed me. You must be related to him. Is he courageous? Is he handsome? Is he caring and loving?”
He grunted and nudged his horse close to her. “The real owner of that knife was feckless, careless and irresponsible, and now he is dead.”
“Dead!”
“Dead. Most say he committed suicide by that very blade.”
She shook her head violently, causing her headdress to wobble. “No! That is not possible! I know he is alive and you are just being rude and . . . and despicable!”