Читать книгу The Celtic Knot - Shannon MacLeod - Страница 13

7

The following evening after changing into her ladies gown, Lily returned to the gypsy tents and was greeting by an open-mouthed Beth. “Blimey, yer bleedin’ gorgeous, luvvy,” she said, affecting an outrageous Cockney accent.

Lily laughed gaily, spinning around to admire her outfit, a gold and rose satin Anne Boleyn replica gown. Dan had instructed her to wait at the gypsy tent. The suitor would be by precisely at seven forty-five and they both would arrive at the center of the market by eight, when the show was scheduled to start.

She was nervous, but all thoughts of her debut flew away when Ian strode into the tent dressed in a crimson and brocade doublet, a white cuffed shirt unlaced at the throat, tight brown breeches, a long cape and tall boots. Tonight, he had the added accessories of a lethal-looking sword, its scabbard hanging from a doubled leather belt wrapped low around his hips. His gaze swept over her from head to toe, lingering for the briefest moment on the flattering decolletage.

“You are wondrous fair, my beauty,” he murmured, pressing her fingertips to his lips. He offered his arm. “Wouldst my lady care for a turn about the market?”

“You’re my ardent suitor?” she exclaimed, dramatically placing both hands over her palpitating heart.

“Of course I am,” he said with a laugh. “Were you expecting someone else?” He glanced around the tent at the other tarot readers and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I’d say no, if I were you. If it got out you were surprised it wouldn’t be very good for business, would it?”

Lily smiled up at him and accepted his arm. “I don’t think I know quite what to expect with you,” she teased.

After leaving the tent, they meandered down the street toward the market. Night had fallen, bringing with it a cooling breeze that swept through the park and she couldn’t help but be charmed by the magic and romance of it all. “Do you know how to use that thing?” she asked, indicating the sword.

“Well enough for this,” Ian said. “My dear brother-in-law, yonder monarch, took fencing lessons as a teenager. He taught me so I could help him practice, but when I got better at it than him, he quit.” He laughed then added dryly, “The Irish aren’t very big on fencing. That would be the French.”

“Um…go Irish?” Lily giggled before regaining her straight face.

Ian smiled mysteriously. “I haven’t the least intention of losing, milady.”

They strolled along, stopping at booths here and there, and Lily found it easy to pretend they truly were sworn lovers. Ian’s hand covered hers, tucked away in the crook of his arm, and she didn’t think she imagined the incidental caresses of his long fingers on hers. The park patrons began to follow behind them, anticipating the event to come.

When they arrived at the market clearing, Ian whispered “Here we go,” as the blond man Lily had seen Ian talking to before approached them.

The handsome man’s tousled curls brushed the collar of his royal blue and white doublet embroidered with red fleur de lis. He struck a courtly pose, bowing low before her. “Pardonnez-moi, demoiselle.” His voice rang out in a distinct French accent. “I wonder if you would care to enjoy a moonlit stroll through the gardens with me. The flowers, sadly, have all forgotten how to be lovely and surely your great beauty would inspire them to remember, ma chere.” Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, he gave her a rakish grin.

Ian rolled his eyes heavenward at the outrageous flattery then directed a fierce scowl at his adversary. “The lady has an escort, Sir Renaud, and does not welcome your attentions.”

Renaud stepped forward to reach for Lily’s arm, but Ian stepped in between them, his eyes narrowing to slits. “I say again, sir, the lady does not welcome your attentions. Nor do I.”

A ripple of excitement swept through the crowd when Renaud stepped back, whipped out a pair of leather gloves and threw them with a flourish at Ian’s feet. “I challenge you for the lady’s honor,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Ian scooped up the gloves and flung them back, hitting Renaud squarely in the chest. “I accept your challenge, sirrah.”

Both men moved to draw their swords. Immediately, trumpets sounded and the crowd parted to let the king and his court through. The two men sank to one knee, and following their lead, Lily dropped into a deep curtsey.

Dan had no trouble making himself heard over the crowd. He boomed in his deep baritone voice, “What’s this? A duel over a woman? We cannot have our gallant nobles fighting in the streets like common ruffians. To the tournament field!”

With a loud “Huzzah!” everyone moved toward the center of the park to fill the waiting bleachers of the large jousting field. Ian guided Lily to the elaborate viewing stage where the thrones were displayed. “You’re doing great,” he whispered against her ear, his warm breath making her tingle all over. The king climbed the steps to join Queen Meghan, clad in her elaborate Catherine Parr gown. With a practiced snap of her jeweled fan, she motioned for Lily to take the seat of honor next to her.

The field was cleared of everyone except Ian and Renaud. Ian stepped forward and gave Lily a beseeching look. “Might I have a token of your favor, my lady?”

Lily tugged the blue silk prop scarf from her sleeve and handed it to Ian with a smile. He pressed a kiss to it before tucking it into his doublet pocket.

A fanfare sounded when the king exclaimed, “We expect a fair and clean fight, my lords. May the better man win.” Lily decided he sounded very…kingly.

When the trumpets sounded again, the two men strode confidently to opposite sides of the field where the men-at-arms waited to assist them with battle preparations. Capes and sword belts were removed, gambesons were donned. Ian pulled his sabre from the scabbard with a flourish and the crowd “oohed” their approval. Not to be outdone, Renaud unsheathed his sword just as flamboyantly and the crowd “aahed.” Renaud sneered at Ian, his upper lip curling. Ian snarled back.

The noble combatants turned to face each other in the center of the arena. Lily held her breath as they saluted and went en garde. Renaud made the first lunge which Ian easily brushed aside. He stepped away from the second lunge as well. His face reddening with anger, Renaud shouted, “You toy with me, sirrah!”

Ian’s laugh was scornful. “Aye, I do. Now playtime is over and for you, schooling starts.”

The crowd roared its approval when the swordfight started in earnest, blades flashing as the two men dodged and parried. Lily gripped the edge of her seat and whispered, “Who’s going to win?”

Meg laughed, a happy tinkling sound. “We don’t know.”

Lily jerked around to look at Meg in surprise. “You…you don’t know the outcome?”

“We know the outcome. We just don’t know who will win the match.” She smiled. “Renaud may be the more skilled of the two since he plays this part more. Ian, on the other hand, might be a bit more…motivated.” With that, she turned back to watch the fight.

What a strange comment, Lily thought, but her confusion quickly gave way to fascination–although she was certain neither would get hurt, it was frightening to watch the men locked in what appeared to be mortal combat. Their fighting styles were as contrasted as their appearances. Renaud, the courtly knight, fought in a graceful, classically trained fencing style, while Ian fought with the passion of a proud Celt chieftain.

Lily and the crowd gasped as one when Ian lost his footing and staggered back, off balance. Renaud pressed the advantage, only to find he had walked into a well-laid trap. Ian shot a booted foot forward and swept Renaud’s legs out from under him. The Frenchman hit the ground with a hard thud, his sword bouncing out of his hand. Ian stood over him, his unwavering blade pointed at the fallen nobleman’s chest as he kicked the dropped sword out of reach.

“Stay your hand, my lord,” Dan bellowed with a hearty laugh, stopping the match. “It would appear Sir Ian has won this contest. What say you?” The crowd responded with a loud cheer of approval as Ian offered his hand to help up the grinning Renaud. They clasped arms in camaraderie then Renaud retrieved his sword, giving Ian a jaunty salute before he ran from the field to rousing applause.

Ian removed the padded armor, handing it and his sword to the man-at-arms, and approached the stage. He mounted the few steps to stand before the king and queen then dropped to one knee. “What would you have as your prize, sir knight?” the queen asked.

Ian didn’t hesitate before answering, “A kiss from the lady, your majesty.”

Dan boomed out again, scarcely needing the stage amplification, “My loyal subjects, has he earned his prize?” When the crowd shouted its approval, the king gestured toward Lily with a magnanimous wave of his hand. “Granted,” he said.

Rising to his feet, Ian turned to Lily, who stood and held out her hand for the anticipated kiss. He took her hand and to her surprise, drew her slowly forward and encircled her narrow waist with his arm. He bent his head and against her lips whispered, “May I?”

She trembled and sighed, “Yes.”

His lips moved over hers, more of a gentle caress than an actual kiss. Lily leaned into him and his response was immediate, crushing her to him and claiming her mouth completely.

…I know you…

Suddenly no one else in the world was there and she gave herself up to him, yielding to the passion that without warning roared to life within her. Her senses reeled from the taste of him and she could feel his heart thundering in his chest keeping perfect time with her own. She raised her hand without thinking and threaded her fingers in his mass of curls, pulling him down. He clung to her even tighter.

* * * *

The crowd began to cheer wildly when it became more and more apparent this was in fact no staged kiss, but the real thing.

“Uh…” Dan started, clearing his throat.

Without breaking the kiss, Ian slowly held up one finger for him to wait and the crowd erupted into laugher. Another long moment went by and when the king barked in exasperation, “My Lord!” it brought another round of hilarity accompanied by applause.

With a reluctant sigh, Ian raised his head. Lily’s eyes fluttered opened and she gave him a dreamy smile, swaying a little too much for his peace of mind. Catching her before she could lose her balance, he murmured “Thank you” into her ear. Dazed, Lily allowed Meg to lead her through the curtains into the tent at the rear of the stage, fanning at the younger woman’s furiously blushing face.

The man-at-arms returned Ian’s cape and sword belt to him with an envious grin and donning them, Ian bowed low again before his brother-in-law. “That was bloody brilliant,” Dan whispered. Ian missed those words, his full attention riveted on the opening Lily had disappeared through.

The king clapped his hands and when a troupe of acrobatic fools took the field, the two men slipped into the tent where the women stood waiting.

“Good show, the both of you,” Meg said, grinning “Positively inspired, even.”

“’Twas but the charms of the lady that made it so,” Ian said with a gallant bow. He offered Lily his arm and as he guided her through the exit flap, he looked back over his shoulder and mouthed “thank you” to the royal couple.

Ian walked slowly with Lily to her tent, stopping occasionally for patrons who wished to congratulate him, admire her gown, or photograph the two of them together. When they arrived at their destination, he took her hands in his. “I want to see you again,” he said. “Are you free Wednesday?”

When she gave him a shy smile of assent, he drew her close and curled a finger gently under her chin, tilting her face to meet his. “Thank you for the kiss,” he said. “I’m afraid I took advantage of your good nature, but the truth is, I wanted our first kiss to be a memorable one.”

“Or perhaps one I surely could not resist,” Lily said with a coquettish smile. “And when you say first kiss, milord, do you foresee more in your future?”

Ian shook his head sadly. “Ah, so you’ve seen through my clever ruse. ’Tis obvious I’ll have to resort to more devious methods. Or I could just do this.” He cupped her face in his hands and captured her lips with his in a quick but thorough kiss. “I shall look forward to Wednesday,” he whispered.

“As will I,” Lily said

“You are indeed wondrous fair, my lady,” he murmured, then turned and started back toward the office. He had only gotten about twenty feet away before he looked over his shoulder and saw her still standing at the tent entrance, watching him and smiling. Her smile turned to a look of confusion when he strode back to her, his long legs eating up the distance between them. He stroked across her cheek with his thumb.

“Just one more,” he said with a grin, lowering his head to steal another kiss. “Wednesday’s a long way off.”

* * * *

Her lips still tingling, Lily watched Ian thread his way through the crowd and disappear.

Game. Set Match, she thought.