Page 7 of Laird of Smoke
Adam lifted his hand.There were a few polite shouts of encouragement.
Then both riders watched for the herald to drop the silk that would begin the joust.
The scarf drifted down, and Adam spurred his horse forward.
It was over in one pass.
All Adam could remember afterward, lying in the dust on his back with the wind knocked out of him, was a brief thunder of hooves, a jarring blow to his chest, and the sensation of flying over his horse’s arse.
Brand leaped from his horse, tore off his helm, and rushed over, offering him a hand.
Adam took it gladly.Wrenched upright again, he was able to cough and catch his breath.
Brand clapped him companionably on the back, then waved his hand to accept the men’s cheers and the ladies’ impressed sighs at his honorable behavior.
It was customary for a man who unhorsed his opponent to claim the horse as his prize.But Brand had access to dozens of horses in the Rivenloch stables.They were far finer than the one Adam had purchased.So Brand made another virtuous gesture.
“I wish to give the animal I’ve won to the newly made bride and knight, Lady Merraid.”
The women erupted in another round of jubilant cries.
That was clever, Adam decided.Clever and amusing.Growing up, his cousin had taken no interest in the fairer sex.Brand had deemed lasses inferior, useless, and troublesome.It was only in the past few months he’d decided they might be worth his time and attention.
The gift was perfect.Merraid was delighted to own her first horse.And Gellir was pleased with his brother’s gesture.
Seeing their faces shining with joy, Adam was truly glad he’d been able to play a part in bringing them together.
They came forward to claim her prize.Neither of them recognized Adam in his helm.But Merraid took the horse’s reins and placed a hand on Adam’s arm.
“Thank ye, sir.I shall treat her with kindness.”
Adam bowed his head.
Gellir came near enough to murmur, “You rode well, sir.Not many can stand against my brother’s lance.”
Adam, who never ceased to be amazed when his own kin couldn’t recognize him, watched them lead the horse away.Then he limped from the lists, wondering if he’d ever find a love like Merraid and Gellir shared.If he’d ever have a grand wedding with a tournament like this.
He grimaced as a sharp pain cut across his ribs.
It might have been from the impact of Brand’s lance.
Or it might have been his heart flinching in response at the painful truth.
Adam would never find a bride.
No woman would ever fall in love with him.
Not only was he forgettable.He wasn’t the same man from day to day.
How could a woman want a man when she’d never know who he truly was?
“Jehan from Rouen!”the herald announced.
Beneath her hood of forest green, Eve adjusted the brown linen cloth over her face so only her eyes were showing.Then she strode forward with the bold steps and outthrust chest of a cocky lad, waving at the crowd with her free hand.Her woolen cloak covered a nut brown tunic and hose.A leather bracer protected her left forearm.A pair of worn boots two inches too big completed her garb.Slung over one shoulder was a yew longbow and a quiver of arrows.
To all appearances, she was who she claimed to be.Jehan from Rouen.A young French archer.
Today she didn’t intend to be invisible.
