Page 159 of Bride of Ice
“What!” Morgan said, cuffing Colban’s shoulder.
“’Tis highly unlikely,” Colban said. “We only…” He glanced at Isabel, far too inquisitive and worldly for her years.
“Isabel!” Outside the pavilion, someone was calling her. It sounded like Jenefer. “Isabel!”
Isabel sucked in a quick breath. Before she rushed out, she turned to him, her brow furrowed with worry. “Don’t tell her I told you.” Then she was gone in a flurry.
Morgan turned to him. “Ye got her with child?”
“’Tis possible.” He arched a brow. “But don’t be castin’ stones at me when ye know very well ye’re not without sin.”
Morgan rubbed a hand across his jaw. “What will ye do?”
Colban sighed and straightened. “The right thing.”
“But ye said it yourself. Ye don’t know if the bairn is yours.”
“It probably isn’t. We only had one night together.”
“One night?” Morgan released a breath of relief. “Well, then, ’tisn’t yours. She was with Archie for weeks.”
Colban knew that. “Her child needs a name. And a father.”
“’Tisn’t like that bairn is not goin’ to be abandoned like ye were, Colban. Ye know that, aye?”
On some level, he did know that. The Rivenloch clan would ensure the child had all the love and care it needed, even if it was born a bastard.
But if there was the slightest possibility the bairn was his, he couldn’t walk away and leave Hallie alone to raise the child. Hell, he realized, even if the childwasn’this, he didn’t want her to have to bear the burden of being both a laird and a widowed mother.
“’Tis far too dangerous,” Morgan warned. “The Rivenloch clan has every right to string ye up for Archie’s murder.”
“’Tis a risk I have to take.”
Morgan shook his head. “Ye should never have come back, brother.” Then he gave Colban a rueful smile. “Though I’m glad ye did. There’s no one I’d rather have steal my silver in the tournament.”
Colban lifted a corner of his lip. “’Twas my pleasure.”
Then a great horn sounded, calling the combatants to return to the field for the melee.
Colban would wait until after the battle to find Hallie. After all, she might well refuse his offer. And if she did, it would be better if he didn’t reveal himself to her clan. He would quietly slip away, avoiding execution and continuing his existence as The Sable Knight.
In the excitement of preparing for the melee, Hallie’s disappointment at losing the sword battle was completely forgotten.
Jenefer had prepared something quite special. Melees had always been a risky event. Brutal and chaotic, they were little different from an actual battle. Casualties piled up on all sides. Rather than training knights for war, melees served to cripple fit warriors and diminish one’s forces. Indeed, for a time, melees had even been outlawed in England.
But for this event, Jenefer had specified that weapons were to be blunted. She’d even had her armorer forge dulled swords for those who didn’t bring their own. Best of all, Gellir, Brand, and other younger lads who were usually excluded from tournaments could safely participate. It was a genius idea, exposing them to the dynamics of a real battle with none of the dangers.
That was the intent.
And at first it went remarkably well. Over a hundred warriors took the field when the fighting began. Rather than the savage curses and groans of pain that usually accompanied a melee, the air was filled with laughter, grunts, and good-natured ribbing.
Gellir, of course, took it all very seriously. Before long, he was leaping into the fray against Sir Rauve and their father and even Laird Morgan, as if he were suddenly their equal.
Hallie fought close to Brand. While he was in no peril of being slashed or stabbed, his wild antics could get him trampled or cost him an eye.
All was going well, and Jenefer jested that, at this rate, they would all tire before anyone triumphed.
Then the first scream floated across the battlefield.
