Page 148 of Laird of Steel
“You look lovely.”
It was the truth.
He realized it had always been the truth.
Even four years ago, as a scrawny lass of fifteen—with her freckled face and her wild orange hair and her broken nose—Merraid had had a beautiful heart.
A kind heart that had made her attend to his every want as she brought him breakfast. Bandaged his cuts. Polished his armor. Listened to his ideas.
A patient heart that had made her believe in his love and wait for his return.
A selfless heart that had made her sacrifice her own happiness by seeking a bride who would make him content.
A noble heart that had given her the courage to face the king and plead for his redemption.
And now?
Whether she wore a maidservant’s apron or a suit of armor or a rumpled wedding gown, Merraid would always be the most beautiful woman in the world to him.
“Why are ye lookin’ at me like that?” she asked.
“Because I love you.”
She melted with a smile. He could feel her affection from across the room.
But as she passed him on her way to the door, she added, “Ye won’t love me on the morrow when I’ve tossed ye on your arse in front o’ the king and all your kin.”
Chapter 26
The day dawned perfectly on Merraid’s first tournament. Fluffy clouds dotted the bright sky. Penants from a host of clans fluttered in a gentle breeze. The air was filled with sparrow song. The squeak of bowstrings. The restless stomps of horse hooves. The rustle of chain mail. The soft chatter of warriors on the field and spectators in the stands.
Merraid took a deep breath. Partly to drink in the familiar smells of the tournament—the dust of the arena, the aroma of hay, the tang of armor, the musk of leather—and partly to calm and center herself.
Her training had prepared her for this moment. She’d be unafraid. Self-assured. Confident, but not overconfident. Like the snake in Feiyan’s story about the birth oftaijiquan,she would remain steady and still until the moment came for a sudden strike.
“You will do well, cousin.” Lady Feiyan said, coming up beside her in her black warrior’s garb.
It was hard for Merraid to imagine she was now kin to Feiyan. Even harder to imagine Feiyan intended to compete in the tournament with a bairn in her belly.
As if she’d read Merraid’s thoughts, Feiyan said, “I’ll abide by Dougal’s wishes and stay out of the hand-to-hand combat, but he can’t keep me away from the archery.”
Merraid smiled. “’Tis good news for me then. I didn’t have a hope o’ winnin’, sparrin’ against ye.”
“You may be sparrin’ against my mother,” she warned.
“Lady Miriel herself?” That would be a challenge indeed.
“Aye. And she’s got the wisdom of age.” Feiyan gave her a sly grin. “But you’ve got the advantage of youth. And a few tricks my mother doesn’t know.”
Merraid wondered if that was true.
She also wondered if it was in poor form to defeat one’s new clanfolk.
Before she could ask, Feiyan sidled away.
Moments later, the three sisters, the original warrior maids of Rivenloch, approached. Merraid, lost for words, could only stare in awe.
Laird Deirdre clapped a hand on her right shoulder and gazed at her with ice-blue eyes. “Remember, daughter, a stout heart is better than a sharp sword.”
