Page 8 of Bride takes a Scot

When he reached her side, he handed her the cup. “Milady.”

“My thanks, Laird MacKendrick. Did I see you speaking with my father?”

“Aye, he wanted to warn me about you.” He’d meant to tease her, but she didn’t take his comment in jest. Before he could explain further, she stepped toward him.

Her dainty eyebrows furrowed. “In my defense, my lord, my father is a difficult man and quite emotional. I might be a bit outspoken with him, but I—”

“Ye need not explain, Milady. I was but teasing you.” Declan didn’t know what to say to her. He’d upset her and he was uncertain how to defuse the situation. So, he said nothing more and stood there in chagrin.

“Laird MacKendrick,” she said softly.

He turned to her. “Milady, please call me Declan.”

Isabella smiled sweetly and set her hand on his arm. “Declan, I must apologize because I misjudged you when we first met. Will you try to win my hand on the morrow? I heard the lairds discussing the matter and I wondered…”

“Do ye wish me to try to win your hand?” Declan didn’t want her to see the hopefulness in his gaze and instead of turning away from her, he stood his ground. Under his scrutiny, she lowered her eyes but not before he recognized the glint of an answer in her gaze. Her shoulders moved from a slow sigh, and she raised her bright-blue gaze to him. There was no coyness inIsabella—something he admired about her. She didn’t play him for a fool and he appreciated that.

“I don’t believe the other lairds would suit me. If you won my hand, I wouldn’t be abashed by it.” Her warm fingers slid over the bared skin on his forearm, warming every part of him.

Declan drew in a breath, certain his heart skipped several beats. His reaction to her quite puzzled him because he hadn’t ever experienced such longing, not even with his first wife. Before she stepped away from him, he grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving. “I would not be abashed either.”

She said nothing more to him but pulled away to cross the hall where, he assumed, her parents sat. Isabella spoke briefly to a woman whom he took as her mother and then she was approached by one of the other grooms. Isabella and her partner made their way to the dance floor. Declan took the opportunity to dance with the other offered brides but none of them sparked any fervor in him like Isabella had.

During the dances, he couldn’t cease watching Isabella. Their eyes met more than once and each time, she smiled at him. On the morrow, Declan decided, he would do what it took to win her hand.

Chapter Four

The castle wasbuzzing with activity. Servants bustled about and set out the morning fare for all the guests. Isabella sat at the trestle table with the other brides and waited anxiously for the announcement of the commencement of the bouts. That the men had to fight in a brawl to claim one of the women was barbaric. Surely the king could have settled the matter in a more civilized manner.

The woman next to her leaned toward her and whispered, “I cannot eat a thing. Just think, by day’s end we shall know who our husbands will be.” Isabella peered at the woman whom she knew to be Eva Scott, the youngest of the brides. Her enthusiasm was misplaced. Eva smeared a piece of bread with fruit and shoved it in her mouth. “You should eat something.”

The lass was a contradiction. “Have you a favorite? Is there a man who you hope to win the bout and claim you?” Isabella asked her but left her food untouched.

Eva’s dark blue eyes shimmered from the candlelight in the dim hall. The long tresses of her dark hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned closer. “I spoke with all of them for some time, except for Laird MacKendrick. He wasn’t very forthcoming, but still, he did dance with me. If I had to select one of the men, it would be a difficult decision for they’re all handsome,” she said. “What about you? Do you have your heart set on any of the men?”

How could she answer? She almost asked Declan last eve to claim her but then he teased her, and her subtlety was lost on him. There was another man who interested her, Laird Shaw MacIntosh, who was indeed charming. He courted her with sweet words when she’d danced with him and said that she was near the top of his list. At the same time, the man certainly made himself available to the other ladies and mingled with them all evening. Isabella glanced across the room and spotted Declan standing with Shaw. They appeared to be having an intimate conversation and she wondered what they were saying.

Eva picked up her cup and took a small sip before she asked her again, “Do you? Perhaps it’s one of those two?” She pointed to Declan and Shaw. “They seem to be staring at us.”

“Since I have no say, it really doesn’t matter. Besides, my heart will not be affected. Marriage is nothing but a contract between a man and a woman. The man is the master and the woman his property. It is the way it is done.” Isabella reiterated her mother’s words, the adage she’d been told since she’d begun her training to be a wife. She sighed because deep down, she believed a woman should be a partner and respected for her views.

She was saved from their conversation when the chamberlain entered and announced the bouts would soon begin and to make their way to the courtyard. Isabella followed the women outside and stood near the dais that was erected for the king and queen.

All hushed when Alexander and Margaret appeared and approached the dais.

The king spoke to the chamberlain and Margaret left her husband’s side. She ambled toward them and stopped in front of them. Dressed regally in an elegant overdress, the queen wore her garments well and fitted to accentuate her body. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back in braids and was tucked beneath asimple wimple. “Ladies, worry not for you will not be displeased with any of these men as your husband. I took great care to notice your interactions last eve. If you—” Before she could continue, the trumpeter called everyone’s attention. The queen left them and returned to her husband’s side.

The grooms strolled through the mass of onlookers until they reached the dais. They bowed their heads to Alexander and gave firm nods. The king seemed pleased by this. The solemnity of the moment instilled a tenseness within Isabella. There was no turning back, no way to stop the events that would unfold on this day.

He announced, “The first battle will commence. Those fighting are MacKendrick and MacIntosh. There are to be no weapons, hand-to-hand combat only. You shall fight in the marked square to the finish. If for any reason you step out of the square, you will be declared the loser. If you call a truce, you shall forfeit the match. The winner of each match shall get to choose his bride.” Alexander sat in his chair and waited for his chamberlain to start the tourney.

Isabella stood stock still with her breath a small rasp on her lips. Declan and Shaw stepped into the center of the square and faced each other. The fight began within a blink of an eye when Declan threw out his fist and hooked Shaw on the right side of his face. She winced at the sound of Declan’s fist striking the man. Voices rose, instructing and encouraging the combatants. She couldn’t move a muscle or cheer on the melee.

Shaw jabbed Declan until he rolled his shoulder and tucked his chin to his chest to avoid the punches. Regardless, Declan’s nose seeped blood. He began to use his upper shoulder to catch the punches Shaw threw at him and grunted from the onslaught. Isabella’s breath just about ceased altogether as she witnessed Declan’s downfall. Her eyes moistened with the beginning of tears, but she willed herself not to weep. She wanted to shoutat Declan to strike back, to do something to help himself, but the brutality of the fight held her silent. Shaw appeared to be winning. God help her.

But then, before Shaw could cut away, Declan began to throw uppercuts and landed his fist repeatedly on the side of Shaw’s head. Isabella’s heart clashed languidly as she watched in awe of Declan’s powerful jabs. The crowd’s reaction rose in a meshing ofoohs,bahs, andahhswhich sounded as they stood afar from them. Shaw grabbed hold of Declan in a chokehold to keep him from striking him, but Declan kept throwing punch after punch, hitting Shaw’s face, upper body, and head. She’d never seen men fight in such a way and the savagery of it held her enthralled and somewhat sickened.

Shaw’s knees shook, and finally, he ended up on the ground. He had no choice but to concede to Declan and call a truce when he failed to stand. Both men rasped from their exertion. Declan wiped the blood from his nose with the edge of his tartan and bowed over Shaw who continued to lay on his back, groaning. But in a sign of gallantry, he helped Shaw to rise.