Page 59 of Laird of Steel
Merraid couldn’t even summon up a smile. She turned away and busied herself with stacking linens beside the tub.
“I know you were worried,” Feiyan said gently. “Gellir is your friend. You wanted to be sure he found a good match. One deserving of him.” She let out a contented sigh. “I think maybe this lady will make him truly happy.”
Merraid nodded. But there was a knot of tears in her throat, choking off a reply.
“The best part is,” Feiyan continued, “Gellir has already approved. He’s grown weary of courting. And I think he’s anxious to get back to jousting. He trusts Hew’s judgment. So he’s agreed to marry her.”
Merraid bit her lip and blinked back tears. It was all happening too quickly. Gellir might well marry within the sennight. Then he’d return to Rivenloch with his bride. Merraid would likely never see him again.
“And Merraid,” Feiyan said, “I need to ask you a special favor.”
“Aye, m’lady?” she managed to choke out.
“Will you make her feel welcome? I know Gellir can be…grim…when he’s restless. The last thing I want to do is frighten her off.”
Merraid’s heart sank. Of all the tasks Lady Feiyan could require of her, this was perhaps the most difficult.
“O’ course, m’lady.”
After that, nothing could cheer her. Not even the afternoon visit from Henry. He’d brought her an apple coffyn stolen from Lady Maut’s kitchens. Naturally, she pretended to be delighted by his unexpected company. Pleased by his sweet pilfered pastry. But her smile didn’t reach her eyes or come from her heart.
She sent Henry away after an hour, pleading a long list of chores to do. He seemed disappointed. But he politely bowed to her wishes.
She told herself there would be time later to court Henry properly. To exchange pleasantries and gifts. To make wagers on silly things. To hold his hand and kiss his lips and try to fall in love with him.
But for now, she had to fulfill her vow to Feiyan to make Gellir’s new bride feel welcome. And she had to fulfill her vow to Gellir to ensure he made a good match. She only hoped Lady Carenza was as perfect as Hew described her. Gellir deserved nothing less.
Hoofbeats thundered beneath Gellir. His couched lance balanced effortlessly under his arm. His knees flexed with every gallop as he charged across the field.
This was what he needed. What he missed. All the silly courtship rituals—dancing, pleasure riding, hawking, strolling through the garden—had made him feel like he was going soft.
Riding full-tilt at a target made him feel alive again. Strong. And free. As if he hadn’t just agreed to wed a woman, sight unseen, on the advice of his softhearted cousin Hew.
It had been a rash decision, he knew. But it was the only way he could purge his dangerous desire for Merraid. If he couldn’t have the one he wanted—and it appeared her heart was already bending toward another—then he might as well let his cousin choose his wife.
His lance held. It knocked the target off the arm of the quintain. Two young lads scurried to replace it. He galloped to the end of the list and wheeled his mount about.
His cousin Hew had always left his heart unguarded. He’d had it broken half a dozen times. But Gellir supposed that meant he had experience. In general, his judgment seemed sound. All the lasses Hew pursued were attractive. Half of them were even good-natured.
The destrier stamped at the ground, eager to take another run.
Gellir knew how the horse felt. He itched to run as well. To flee Darragh. To go back out on the tournament circuit. To ignore the threat of the king. To forget the necessity of acquiring a wife.
“Ready, sir!” one of the lads shouted, backing out of the way.
He spurred the destrier into a charge and lowered his lance.
This time his weapon hit the target square, swinging it halfway round. The lads rushed to straighten it for his next run.
Again and again he returned until he had nearly demolished the target. After an hour, his arm and the horse were fatigued. His stomach grumbled for food.
He handed off the destrier to Campbell and headed toward the great hall.
He expected his exhausting day of tilting to numb him to anything but his aching muscles.
But then he glimpsed Merraid in the courtyard, sharing a coffyn with her fawning suitor. His heart cramped. He had to look away.
When his ears caught the guardsman’s indulgent chuckle, he had to resist an ugly urge to march over and stuff the crust into the man’s mouth. Anything to stop the sound.
