Chapter 11

They rode into the courtyard of a castle around midday. Lara glanced around, a feeling of dread in her chest. Eleanor did not like this place and she wasn’t happy to be returning.

“Everything will be fine,” Reece whispered in her ear, picking up on her unease.

“Are you sure we can’t run away?” she said, glancing up into his intimidating helmet.

“How would it look if we ran off and young Toby jousted in my place?”

Lara’s gaze fell on the profile of the young man riding the horse beside them. His eyes were glassy with star-struck wonder.

“Funny, I don’t think he’d be upset about it.”

Reece chuckled, the rich sound of his laughter made Lara’s heart sing. “You’re probably right about that.”

A man stepped in front of their miniscule processional. The clopping of hooves on cobblestones drew to a halt.

The man spoke, his voice authoritative and rather bored. “The challenge will commence in two hours time. Prepare yourself, Knight, for three rounds of tournament. Milady, your father would like a word with you.”

“My father is here?” she blurted.

“Since he is your guardian, he must agree to the terms of the challenge,” the man said as if annoyed by Lady Eleanor’s obvious ignorance.

“Of course,” she said.

Reece dismounted and helped Lara from the horse.

“Don’t die,” she demanded in a harsh whisper. “Actually, just win. Okay?”

He grinned. “With you as my tempting prize, how can I possibly lose?”

“I’ll try to remember that when I’m pulling a lance from your chest.”

“Such faith you have in me, woman,” he said jovially and patted her on the rear before she managed to get out of reach.

She gave him a threatening look and he winked at her. Lara headed towards the looming castle. If Reg lost the tournament, this cold-looking place would become Eleanor’s home. And that asshat Abbot would become her husband. Lara prayed that wasn’t Eleanor’s fate.

Lara glanced back at Reece before she began to ascend the wide stairs to the castle. He was speaking with Toby, probably about the upcoming competition. She bit her lip, unable to contain her worry, and then started up the steps. The door opened in front of her and she stepped inside. It was gloomy, but she couldn’t help but gawk at her surroundings. She’d never had an opportunity to visit a real castle, but it had always been a dream of hers. The museum curator in her was in sheer heaven as her eyes darted from one artifact to another. Well, they would have been artifacts in her time. Here, they were just stuff.

“Follow me, Lady Eleanor,” said the servant who had opened the door. “They await your arrival in the gathering hall.”

“They?” she questioned.

“Lord Abbot, your father, and your sister.”

Okay, this was so not going to be fun. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Lara’s stomach.

The castle suddenly lost all appeal, but she took in the sights so she might savor them in her memory at a more suitable time. Rich tapestries hung from the walls to keep down the drafts. She thought she recognized Abbot bedecked in armor in one of the wall-hangings. She wondered if he’d commissioned a tapestry to be made in his likeness. Pretty tacky of him. The occasional piece of heavy, wooden furniture broke up the monotony of the corridor. Candles cast strange shadows on the stone floor. It all added to the doom and gloom she felt as she shuffled closer and closer to the confrontation ahead.

When they entered the gathering room, the servant announced, “Lady Eleanor Clayton.”

She swept into the room, trying not to be nervous. Trying to look confident. She was glad she was wearing a gown so they couldn’t see her knees knocking together.

The older man looking at her with disapproval could only be her father. He stood near the fire nursing an amber-colored beverage. Lord Asshat, er, Abbot was there as well, sprawled in a heavy chair with a thick steak on his right eye. And then she noticed the small, young woman sitting near the window. Pale and wane, eyes downcast, she didn’t even glance up when Eleanor entered the room. She was too well-dressed to be a servant, and her red hair, which matched Lord Clayton’s in color, led Lara to believe that this was Eleanor’s younger sister. Meek, unimposing. A terrible match for Reg.

“Wherever did you find those hideous clothes, daughter?” Lord Clayton asked, his beak-like nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Sir Reginald gave them to me, sir.” She didn’t know how Eleanor usually addressed her father, but ‘sir’ felt right. Lara tried to give Eleanor’s consciousness free reign, but the gentlewoman had been subdued since the night before. Lara wasn’t sure if the fantastic sex had frightened Eleanor or soothed her. She had all but vanished from Lara’s perception.

Lord Clayton scoffed. “This is the way he provides for my prized daughter? I have a mind to call off this entire tournament and run him through with my own sword. Look at what he did to your sister,” he demanded. “Alyssa is heartbroken.”

Lara looked at the young woman who she caught staring longingly at Lord Abbot. Alyssa started and diverted her gaze. “She always looks like that, father,” Lara said. “She didn’t want to marry Sir Reginald in the first place. The foolish girl is in love with Lord Abbot.”

Over in her corner, the girl in question made a small sound of displeasure.

“You are to wed Lord Abbot, Eleanor. You’ve the character to be a lady worthy of running a castle. You’ve the beauty to attract a powerful husband. Alyssa is meek and uncomely. She was lucky I set up her marriage to Ferguson at birth. She has little hope of making a good match on her own.”

Geez, what a dick. He didn’t have to say it in front of the young woman like that. Lara’s dislike of Lord Clayton was more than that of her own. Eleanor was in her somewhere intensifying her feelings. Lara just wished Eleanor would come out of hiding now that she was messed up with this weird family situation. Lara had no idea how to handle it.

“That’s not true, father,” Lara said. “Lord Abbot said himself that Alyssa would make the better wife.”

She glanced at Alyssa. The frail-looking young woman was staring at Lord Abbot with wide eyes. Lara could see her trying to find her tongue to voice the question she was bursting to ask, but Lord Abbot shifted in his chair to sit up properly and Alyssa’s gaze dropped again.

Lord Abbot spoke, his words slightly slurred, likely from lanolin. He had to be in a lot of pain. “Your father has convinced me that you are the prize, Eleanor, and after the humiliation I suffered at the hand of Sir Reginald, there is no way I will hand you over to him without a fight.”

“You are injured, my lord,” Lara tried. “Perhaps we should postpone this fight for a few days so that you can recover.”

Abbot scoffed. “This wound. This wound is nothing. I’ve fought and won battles with a sword wound that went clean through my side.”

Lara breathed a frustrated sigh. “If Sir Reginald wins, I am to wed him, isn’t that correct?”

“He will not win.”

“But if he does—”

Lord Clayton cleared his throat. “Daughter, go find something decent to wear. I can’t stand the sight of you in that filthy peasant garb. Alyssa, help your sister.”

Alyssa sprang to her feet like a marionette. “Yes, Father.”

She nearly sprinted to Lara’s side, took her by the wrist, and tugged her towards the door. She was strong for someone so small. Lara doubted she was even five feet tall. Lara followed Alyssa out into the corridor and towards a set of stairs.

“I brought some clothing for you from home, dearest sister,” Alyssa said in her unassuming voice. “You’ll need to dress well for the tournament.”

“Thank you, Alyssa, that was thoughtful of you.”

Alyssa hurried up a set of stairs and pushed open the door of a room halfway down a corridor. It turned out to be a bedchamber. Lara was ushered inside, and Alyssa closed the door.

“You idiot! How could you get caught?” Alyssa bellowed the moment the door was closed. “My plan should have worked perfectly. I never thought Lord Abbot would go after you.” She sighed. “Damn it! Sir Reginald has to win this tournament or I shall never marry properly. Hurry up and change so we can do something about this.”

Lara stared at Alyssa in disbelief. Eleanor’s meek little sister was a schemer? Had she lived in modern times, she would have been an Oscar-winning actress. Alyssa moved to the wardrobe and pulled out an emerald-green gown.

“You have to look stunning,” she said. “Lord Abbot was always easily distracted by your beauty. He won’t be able to concentrate by the time I’m through with you.”

Lara was too stunned to voice a protest as the chore of dressing began. Alyssa worked like an artist creating her Magnus opus. The quantity of fabric in Eleanor’s dress could have supplied an entire army with tents. After Eleanor was dressed, Alyssa went to work on her hair. Lara sat before a mirror at the dressing table, watching all of this happen to the woman in the mirror, who was Eleanor, not her. Eleanor really was a gorgeous woman. And with hair perfectly styled, one long strand curling against her neck and seductively drawing attention to her bosom, Lord Asshat, erm, Abbot, was sure to be distracted.

“Manners, Eleanor,” Alyssa hissed as they left the room together. “You’d set the world on its ear if only you’d stifle your infinite opinions on things best left to men.”

“I think you’re already setting the world on its ear. Why do you want to marry Abbot, anyway? He’s a bully.”

“A bully with a title. And we’ve had this discussion before, sister. You know I can handle him. He treats me like a delicate flower. You stir up his temper at every occasion. No wonder he treats you the way he does.”

“You make it sound like it’s my fault.”

“Well, it is, isn’t it? You can’t tempt a man to his very limits and expect him not to act upon it.”

Lara stifled the urge to slap the little twit until she grew some 21^st-century sensibility.

Alyssa twisted her hands, a happy smile upon her thin lips. “Did Abbot really say I would make a better wife?”

“Yes, he did. Right before he tried to rape me.”

Alyssa gasped. “Does Reginald know?”

“Why do you think Lord Abbot has that horrible bruise on the side of his head?”

“Reginald doesn’t know about the other times, does he?”

Alyssa knew Abbot had raped her own sister and she still wanted him? Lara didn’t answer her question because she was too busy gaping at her.

“You told Reginald, did you not?”

“Yes, I told him.”

“Does he still want you, even though you’ve been deflowered by his rival?”

Memories of making love the night before swarmed her thoughts. “I think so.”

Alyssa made a sound of impatience. “This won’t work if Reginald doesn’t want you. Damn it, Eleanor, you said you would hide it from him. You promised me you wouldn’t tell him.”

“It’s kind of hard to hide it when he discovers you naked with your attacker holding you down with his er…” What did people of this era call male components? “His er…male parts fully exposed.”

Alyssa’s eyes widened. “You saw it?”

“Unfortunately.”

Alyssa got a thoughtful look on her face. “I wonder how long Christopher will need to get over you before he asks Father for my hand. Do you think a week is long enough?”

Lara couldn’t disguise her look of disgust. “You are twisted, Alyssa. Do you know that?”

“I want Christopher Abbot, Eleanor. And no matter what it takes, I shall have him.”

Lara wouldn’t wish that man on anyone. Not even someone who apparently wanted him and had shit for brains.

They had arrived outside the gathering room. “I will be certain not to get in your way, sister,” Lara said.

Alyssa smiled and entered the room. Lara followed her.

“Where is Lord Abbot?” Alyssa asked their father, eyes seeking every corner of the room.

“He has a tournament to prepare for, doesn’t he?”

“Father, if Lord Abbot loses, I would still be willing to accept him as my husband,” Alyssa said, eyes downcast, a fierce blush staining her cheeks. “You could speak to him on my behalf.”

My God, she has every man in her world completely under her control and they don’t even realize it, Lara thought.

“Why would he lose?” Lord Clayton said. “And besides, little one, he has no interest in you.”

“But if he were to ask for my hand,” Alyssa persisted, “you would give your permission.”

Lord Clayton drew his youngest daughter in his arms. “I would offer twice Eleanor’s dowry, darling, but do not get your hopes up. I hate to see you distraught.”

A servant entered the room. “The guest tent is ready for patrons to be seated.”

“Thank you,” Lord Clayton said, releasing his hold on Alyssa. “Shall we go?”

“Yes, father,” Alyssa said, smiling up at Lord Clayton with a look that would melt any father’s heart.

“And Eleanor,” he said, stalking across the room and grabbing Eleanor by the elbow. “Do not embarrass yourself or your family this day. Abbot is your champion, not Reginald. You are to behave appropriately.”

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “You will not be ordering me around for much longer, Father. When I marry Reginald, I will no longer be your concern.”

She jerked her arm out of his grasp and stalked out of the room. She caught his words to Alyssa as she entered the hall. “That girl will be the death of me. If only she were meek and well-mannered like you, little one.”

“I have tried to encourage her to be more submissive,” Alyssa said.

“I know, daughter. I am glad you are a good girl.”

Lara rolled her eyes. She could just picture Alyssa smiling up at her daddy with heart-melting worship. Puh-leaze.

In the yard outside the castle, a fence, spectator stands and a tent had been erected. Lara’s heart skipped a beat when she realized this jousting thing was for real. A clanging sound to her right drew her attention. Lord Asshat, fully bedecked in his polished armor, was heading in her direction. When he stopped beside her, he removed his helmet. His eyes roved over her body as if he were a detective looking for clues. Most of those clues must’ve gotten stuck to her boobs.

“You look incomparably beautiful,” he said huskily, his gaze settling on the tops of her breasts.

“Thank you, Christopher.”

His breath came out in an excited huff. “You’ve never used my given name before.”

Lara fluttered her eyelashes at him, feeling entirely stupid. Alyssa’s plan just might work, and if she had to pretend to like this guy to distract him and give Reginald an advantage, she would most certainly do her best. She reached up and gently touched the bruise on his face, resisting the urge to jab his bruise repeatedly with her finger. His eyes moved to hers. “You poor dear,” she said, wondering if she sounded simpering or just obnoxious. “What a terrible bruise. Are you sure you can fight?”

He caught her hand and kissed its palm. “Your concern is touching, milady,” he said. “May I ask the honor of your favor?”

Ugh! She reached into the cleft between her breasts and slowly pulled out a small handkerchief. Abbot made a sound of longing in the back of his throat. She pressed the handkerchief to her lips before handing it to him. “Please accept this small token of my affection.”

She wasn’t sure how it was possible for him not to realize she was acting for all she was worth. She’d run off with his rival, for crying out loud. Was he that much a slave to his dick?

Abbot accepted the handkerchief and drew it to his nose. “We wed tonight, milady,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “Then it will be my right to take what I want from you.”

She swallowed the acid inching up her throat and attempted a smile. “I cannot refuse my husband.”

He surprised her by grabbing her and kissing her with an open-mouthed, slobbery kiss. When his tongue sought penetration, she clenched her teeth tightly together. She forced herself to remain still. When he pulled away, he looked down at her in question.

“Not going to fight me?” he asked.

It dawned on her that her resistance was what had him so enslaved by desire. She slapped him across his bruised cheek, hoping to ignite him further, yet terrified that it would actually work. “Cad! How dare you take such liberties!”

“Oh, I dare, milady. I care not how viciously you resist.”

“I loathe you.”

He laughed. “Is that any way to speak to your future husband?”

She bit her tongue. This guy was unreal. When he lowered his head to kiss her again, she twisted away, breaking free of his grasp.

“Save it for the marriage bed, Abbot,” Lord Clayton said.

Abbot grinned. “Tonight cannot come soon enough.”

Lara glanced around, noticing Alyssa talking to Reece near his horse. Standing beside them, Toby’s slender body was practically vibrating with nervous energy. Reece leaned close to Alyssa, nodding occasionally as he listened to her instructions. When her hand grasped his metal sleeve so she could whisper in his ear, Lara was surprised by the spear of jealousy that pierced her heart. It must be Eleanor’s desire to be with Reginald, Lara reasoned. She knew that Alyssa had no interest in Reg and Alyssa didn’t even see Reece when she looked at the dashing knight preparing for the tournament, so Lara’s jealousy made even less sense.

“The observation tent awaits you, milady,” Lord Abbot said, watching her as she gazed at Reece.

“Oh, thank you, my lord,” she said, dragging her gaze back to Abbot. “I wish you luck.”

“I appreciate that, Eleanor, but I won’t be needing luck today.” His evil grin made her heart flop. What was he scheming? Lara couldn’t imagine what terrible brats he would spawn with Alyssa. The two were more perfectly matched than Lara wanted to admit.

Lord Abbot put on his helmet and stalked off in the direction of his waiting horse. Apparently, he had recovered the beast from the forest where it had been left. Lara couldn’t help but grin, imagining Abbot wandering the countryside pantsless, looking for his horse and armor. She made her way to the tent where a small crowd was gathering. Alyssa caught her arm just before she entered.

“There are three events. Two out of three wins the tournament,” she whispered. “Reginald has the obvious advantage in the sword fight. They are equally matched in the joust. Abbot has the advantage in archery. It really comes down to who wins the joust. I have an idea to turn the event to Reginald’s favor. Tell father I felt ill so went to lie down.”

Lara nodded.

“Did you do your part?” Alyssa asked. “Did you distract Christopher?”

Lara laughed. “It wasn’t hard. Breathing distracts him.”

“Make sure you are the front of the tent and cheer for him. He has a hard time concentrating when he’s showing off for you, sister.”

“Understood.”

Alyssa reached up and tugged the bodice of Eleanor’s gown down a few inches. “There you go. You’ll be married to Reginald by nightfall.”

Alyssa turned and headed back to the castle, holding her stomach as if she felt ill. Lara entered the tent and found her father standing near the front of the open structure.

“There you are,” he said. “Where is your sister?”

“She’s not feeling well. She went to lie down.”

Lord Clayton’s features tightened with concern. “I hope she is not too ill. She was never blessed with vigor or good health. The poor child.”

Oh yes, Alyssa was such a helpless creature. Sheesh! Blind much, Papa Clayton?

There was a trumpeting which drew all eyes to the arena. A man read from a scroll of parchment. “Lord Christopher Abbot hereby challenges Sir Reginald Ferguson to a duel of valor. The tournament shall be held at Abbot castle grounds on the morrow with the prize of Lady Eleanor Clayton’s hand in matrimonial bliss. The marriage ceremony will commence following the third event. Each knight may select one event for the tournament, with a joust leading the challenge. He who triumphs in two or more events, shall be named the victor. Should Sir Ferguson refuse the terms of this challenge, he shall be charged with the kidnapping of Lady Clayton and persecuted to the greatest extent of the law. Lord Abbot, do you hereby claim this challenge?”

“Aye,” Abbot called, lifting his hand to cheers from the crowd. Lara did her best to pretend she was cheering with them. She waved and wriggled excitedly.

“Lord Ferguson, do you hereby accept this challenge?”

“Aye,” Reece called.

There was a chorus of boos and hisses. Lara’s heart went out to him. He had to be nervous enough without having the added burden of the crowd being against him. She wished she had spoken to him before the match began. Good luck, my love, Eleanor’s thoughts came through loud and clear. Ditto, Lara thought. Well, except for that love part. Like? Sure. Lust? Definitely. But love? Her heart fluttered. Well, maybe.

Both knights directed their horses to the center of the wooden fence where they faced each other. They then turned and approached the tent, coming to a halt in front of Lara. Her eyes searched the visor of Reece’s helmet, wishing she could see his expression. Was he worried? She was about to toss her crumpets.

“The first event shall be the joust,” the announcer called. “Take your ready, knights.”

The horses were directed to either end of the fence. Toby handed Reece a lance and he settled the weapon into position at his hip. Lara noticed the tip wasn’t blunted. One of them could be killed.

She turned to her father. “We have to call this off,” she said. “These are real weapons.”

Her father looked down at her, his expression cold. “These are real knights,” he said. “Do you see what trouble your insolence causes?”

“I’ll marry Lord Abbot!” She clutched his sleeve, but he shook off her hold. “Just call it off.”

Lord Clayton took her by the arm and turned her to face the joust. “Allow him his dignity.”

Lara bit her lip. A trumpet sounded. Both horses leapt forward, hooves churning up dust. The knights raced towards each other at breakneck speed. Reece lifted his lance, leaning into the horse, the blue and white banner showing his family’s coat of arms rippling over his steed’s rump. A flash of light hit Abbot’s visor. Concentration broken, he turned his head the instant before the knights collided. There was an unsettling crunch. Reece’s lance broke off at the hilt as it hit Abbot’s chest plate. Abbot’s lance struck Reece in the shoulder and sent him flying. Reece did a backwards somersault off his horse and landed face down in the dirt. Lara attempted to spring over the low wall in front of her, but Lord Clayton grabbed her by the arm. Heart in her throat, she watched Reece, begging him to move. Toby ran to his knight and tried to rouse him.

The cheering crowd seemed muffled to Lara as she waited for signs of life from Reece.

“Get up,” she whispered. “Please.”

Reece rolled onto his side and with the aid of Toby climbed to his feet. The crowd booed, but Lara was thanking the fates and God and any other deity who might have spared his life.

“The first round goes to Lord Abbot,” the emcee announced.

“He cheated!” Lara cried. She wasn’t sure where that had come from. “Sir Ferguson’s lance broke.”

“The man brought his own lance,” Lord Abbot called over the crowd. “It’s not my fault he’s too poor to afford quality weapons.”

A round of laughter rang through the crowd.

Lara bit back a retort. Reece was walking towards his horse, which had come to check on his master. Wobbly on his feet, Reece pulled himself up into the saddle, favoring his left shoulder.

“Don’t count me out, yet!” Reg called. “There are still two events.”

Abbot spun his horse around. “Let’s finish this then. I hope to be wed within the hour.”

Another cheer erupted from the crowd. Alyssa appeared at Lara’s elbow.

“Did I miss the joust?” she asked, looking disappointed. “Who won?”

“Lord Abbot won, naturally,” Lord Clayton said with a smirk.

Alyssa tugged on Lara’s sleeve and she looked down at her. Alyssa beckoned her closer and cupped her hand around Lara’s ear, whispering, “I tried to distract him with that mirror. It would have worked if Abbot hadn’t sabotaged Reg’s weapon.”

“That flash of light was you?” Lara asked in a harsh whisper.

“Shh. I hate to admit defeat, but it looks like you’ll be married to Abbot this evening, sister.”

“There are still two events,” Lara reminded her.

“Have you ever seen Reg hit a target with any degree of accuracy?”

Lara shrugged.

“I didn’t think so. Reginald cannot beat Christopher at archery.” Alyssa’s eyes shifted to one side and she smiled wickedly. “Unless...”

A trumpet sounded again. “The second event of the tournament will now commence,” the announcer called.

The hum of the crowd died.

“A duel of swords!”

Lara’s eyes moved to Reece. He was already holding a long sword in his right hand and a shield in his left. At the other end of the arena, Abbot accepted a sword and shield from his squire.

“The first man to be knocked from his steed shall be declared the loser.”

Lara winced. She wasn’t sure if Reece would survive another fall from his horse.

The knights approached the center of the arena, and faced each other between the fence and the spectator tent. Reece settled his shield to protect his chest and lifted his sword. With a loud cry, Abbot kicked his horse forward and brought his sword down with a loud clank against Reg’s shield. The trumpet announcing the start of the match sounded.

“Cheating again,” Lara said under her breath. “Why isn’t anyone calling foul?”

“Probably because these are Abbot’s people,” Alyssa said. “This is his castle.”

Reg had recovered from the first stunning blow and swung his sword expertly, sometimes connecting with Abbot’s shield, sometimes his sword, sometimes an exposed bit of armor, but each strike found its mark. Abbot was continually forced backwards as he attempted to parry the blows. The crowd gasped each time a blow connected with Abbot’s armor and he’d wobble unsteadily in the saddle before recovering again. Lara dared not blink. One false move could prove fatal for either knight.

Making his move, Reg kicked his horse forward and swung aggressively. He unsettled Abbot with his shield, then brought his sword in for three quick strikes and a forward thrust. Abbot teetered in his saddle. A final strike to the side of the head knocked Abbot to the ground with a loud crash.

A wave of boos sounded through the crowd, but Lara was smiling and bouncing on the balls of her feet, barely able to contain her exuberance.

“The victor of the second event is Sir Ferguson,” the announcer proclaimed.

Another round of booing. Reece sheathed his sword in the scabbard at his hip, then removed his helmet. His perspiration-drenched hair was plastered to his head but the smile on his face as he looked at Lara made her heart catch in her throat. There was definitely something to this knight in shining armor thing. Toby appeared at Reece’s side, patting the armor on his leg excitedly. Reece handed his shield to the squire, then his helmet, before he dismounted.

Lord Abbot was still on the ground. His helmet had been removed by his squire and the young man was talking to the knight in quiet tones. After several moments, Abbot sat up. The crowd, who’d been watching him in rapt attention, broke out into a spattering of applause.

Reece took a long drink from a flask of water, his eyes trained on Lara in the stands. She offered him a discreet wave and he winked at her. She grinned stupidly and lowered her eyes. Why was her heart pounding so forcefully? Was it Eleanor? No, she realized. She had completely fallen for that fool, Reece Jericho.

Damn it.

“The third round will be an archery tournament,” the announcer said. “There will be a short intermission while the knights remove their armor and the targets are put in place.”

“Now’s your chance,” Alyssa whispered into Lara’s ear.

Lara was still staring at Reece, watching Toby help him remove his armor, and hoping to catch a glimpse of bare skin. God, she wanted to kiss the sweat off the side of his face. Why, oh why, was he all the way over there? “Huh?” Lara muttered distractedly.

“Go talk to Lord Abbot,” Alyssa insisted. “He’s going to have to be pretty addled to lose an archery contest against Sir Reginald.”

Lara glanced at her. “Do you really think anything I do can possibly help?”

Alyssa huffed and then whispered, “Lure him behind that big oak tree. Rub up against him. Accidentally brush against his male parts. Get him really worked up, then I’ll come get you.”

Lara’s stomach flipped over. “Are you sure that will work?”

“I’m positive.”

“And you promise to come save me from him.” She didn’t think sexually exciting her rapist was wise.

“I’ll keep an eye out. When you’re ready for me to rescue you, put an arm out from behind the tree and I’ll hurry straight over.”

Lara would rather eat live spiders than seduce Lord Abbot, but if it might help Reg, she was willing to try. Besides, while Eleanor might not know how to get away from the asshat, Lara knew self-defense. If he got too fresh, she’d kick him in the nuts repeatedly and jab his eyes out with her thumbs. Lara hurried from the spectator tent in the direction of Lord Abbot. His armor had been removed and he was drinking from a flask of water. He looked mostly dazed and confused already. She wondered if it was necessary for her to further unsettle him.

“You shouldn’t be here, milady,” Abbot’s squire said. “The final match is about to begin.”

Lara ignored him. “Can I have a word with you, my lord?” she asked Abbot.

His gaze was already glued to her bosom. Oh, this guy was too easy. And so disgusting. How could Alyssa want to wed him? Was it really that important to marry a man with wealth and a title? Weren’t there any better prospects for a lady of this age? How demoralizing.

“Can it wait?” Abbot’s tongue snaked out to moisten his thick lips.

“It will only take a moment.”

He set the flask aside and stood. He was still a little unsteady on his feet as he followed her to a large tree just beyond the tent. She drew him out of sight and then turned to face him, hoping her acting was half as good as Alyssa’s.

“I had no idea you were such a powerful knight,” she said, stepping closer to him until mere inches separated her chest from his. She looked up at him between her lashes, and moved her hand to his thigh. “I want you, my lord. I want you to… I want you to…” She tried to force herself to say the words, but they wouldn’t come. It didn’t matter to him. Her back slammed into a tree as he collided with her, squeezing her breast with bruising force as his squishy mouth covered hers. She fought revulsion. Her hand moved to his crotch and she squeezed his hardening package roughly. Most men would have complained about her harsh treatment of his prized possession, but Abbot merely growled into her mouth, and rubbed himself against her punishing hand.

He tore his mouth from hers. “You want me to hurt you, don’t you?”

No, you sadistic bastard, I want you to die a horrible death. She squeezed his crotch even harder. He flinched, but covered her hand with his own and encouraged her to apply even more force up and down his length. She was so gonna soak her hand in bleach for a week when this was over. Ew. Ew. Ew.

“You do drive me to distraction, milady,” he growled. He pulled her hand away so he could press his pelvis against hers, grunting even though several layers of clothing separated his gyrating hips from their prize. Lara threw a hand out to the side, praying Alyssa would keep her promise. Lord Abbot’s hand grabbed the coif on the back of her head and jerked her head to the side. He ran his slimy tongue up the side of her neck. His other hand was still bruising her breast. Did he really think a woman would enjoy this sort of treatment?

“There you are,” Alyssa’s voice sounded from beside the tree. “Lord Abbot, it’s time for the archery match to begin. I suppose my sister could not wait until after the wedding ceremony to express her gratitude.”

Abbot lifted his head. “Go away, Alyssa.” His hand was still on Lara’s breast, but he’d stopped gyrating against her at least.

“The final round will only take a few minutes and then you can get back to fondling my sister.”

He glanced down at Lara who was sure she was about to faint. She hadn’t taken a breath in a very long time as she attempted to keep herself from vomiting. She glanced at Alyssa who was glaring at her for not playing her part better. She had fondled the bastard’s disgusting junk. What more did the little schemer want?

Lara swallowed her revulsion and rocked her hips against Abbot’s rock hard erection. “Hurry, Christopher,” she purred. “I want to ride you, my stallion.” She’d be needing a large bar of soap to scrub the foul taste of those words from her tongue. Lara forced her hand between their bodies to squeeze his balls. “Hurry.” She shoved him away then, and he stumbled sideways into Alyssa.

“Hurry,” Alyssa repeated, shoving him in the direction of the arena.

“Hurry,” he grumbled. “Yes, I’ll hurry.”

He adjusted the bulge in his britches as he wound his way back to the tournament.

“That was disgusting,” Lara complained.

“But it will work,” she said. “Now, stand over there where the archers can see you, but the crowd cannot, and act suggestive. Hike up your skirt.”

“You have got to be kidding me!”

Alyssa gave her a strange look. “If you are implying that I jest, I assure you I am entirely serious.”

“I almost feel sorry for Lord Abbot. He stands no chance against you, sister.”

Alyssa’s only response was a wicked grin. She walked back to the tent, leaving Lara standing near the end of the courtyard. A target was now sitting about ten yards from Reece who was patiently waiting for a stiff-legged Sir Abbot to join him.

Abbot grabbed his bow from his squire. The lad’s eyes lowered to the bulge in Abbot’s fly, then widened. The boy bit his lip and turned around, quaking with silent laughter.

The announcer’s voice carried across the courtyard. “The final round shall commence. The target will be moved ten paces back after each successful round. The first to miss the target loses. Lord Abbot will launch the first arrow.”

A trumpet bugled and Lord Abbot adjusted his fly again before moving in line with the target. He lifted his bow, arrow in place and drew back the bowstring. Lara busied herself with shifting her breasts more comfortably in her bodice. She didn’t look up and wasn’t sure if he was watching her. There was a loud thwunk as the arrow struck the target. Applause followed. Apparently, Lara need to up her game.

Reece’s arrow easily found its mark and two men moved the target back. Abbot took his mark again. Lara took a deep breath, pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders, tossing her hair to get it to fall into place. Thwunk. Abbot’s arrow hit the target. This wasn’t working at all.

“That was close,” the announcer said. “But he did hit the target.”

Had he almost missed? Maybe this stupid plan was working better than Lara thought.

Reece moved into position again. Lara tried not to stare at him, but the look of intensity on his handsome face stole her breath. He let the arrow fly. Thwunk.

A collective gasp was followed by a spattering of applause. Abbot glared at the audience and the applause died.

“Perfect shot,” the announcer said. The target was moved another ten paces back. Abbot took his aim again.

Lara dropped her handful of hairpins accidentally/on purpose and bent to pick them up. She caught her skirt to expose the back of her leg and wiggled her hips. Thwat.

Abbot swore loudly.

“That’s a miss,” the announcer proclaimed.

Abbot threw his bow on the ground. Reece took his mark. He steadied his arm, concentration unbreakable. Abbot charged toward him with his fist raised.

“Reg, behind you!” Lara called.

Reece ducked and elbowed Abbot in the gut. When Abbot flipped forward to cradle his injured midsection, Reece punched him hard in the jaw. Dazed, Abbot landed flat on his back. Ignoring the collective gasp from the audience, Reece lifted his bow, his bloodied knuckles steady. He let the arrow fly. Thwunk. The crowd broke into cheers. Lara couldn’t stop herself from racing in his direction.

She heard the announcer proclaim. “The winner of the third match and the tournament is Sir Reginald Ferguson.”

Reece tossed his bow aside and held his arms open to catch Lara in an exuberant embrace. He spun her around in his arms before lowering his head and claiming her mouth in a heated kiss. Reece... The cat calls from the audience faded into the background. Reece. For Lara, all the world—present and past—disappeared. There was only him. Reece. The time, the place didn’t matter. Only the man mattered. Reece’s heart thudded against hers, his arms comforting and strong around her. His lips tantalized her senses, stealing all coherent thought.

When he drew away, he was smiling and she was weak in the knees.

“You did it,” she said, smiling back.

“I don’t guess I ever mentioned being part of a champion archery team in college.”

She chuckled. “No, you did not mention that.”

His grin set her soul on fire. “So, I guess Reg and Eleanor are officially engaged.”

“I’m so happy for them. I think we should celebrate.”

She didn’t know how it was possible, but his grin widened.

“Congratulations,” Lord Clayton’s voice boomed from behind them. He extended a hand to Reece, who shook it vigorously. “I underestimated you, young man. You fought honorably. My daughter has permission to wed you.”

Reece’s arm tightened around Lara and she leaned against him, her heart light. “Thank you, sir,” Reece said. “I am anxious to make Eleanor my wife, but may I request that the wedding be postponed until tomorrow night?”

Lara looked up at him in question.

“Very well. We shall make the arrangements and move the ceremony to my hold.” Lord Clayton nodded curtly and went to the stables to collect his horse.

“Why do you wish to postpone the wedding?”

“We’ll have leapt by then. I’d hate to intrude upon something so special between Reg and Eleanor.”

She smiled. “It’s sweet of you to think of them.”

“We can still celebrate their engagement though.”

“No argument from me,” she said, letting her gaze wander over his hard, masculine form. “There’s something about a champion knight that sets a woman all aflutter.”

“If I’d have known that, I’d have dressed like a tin can sooner.”

“I prefer you undressed actually,” she teased. She glanced over her shoulder and found Alyssa had Abbot’s head on her lap and was stroking his hair as she murmured to him. That sly girl didn’t miss a beat. Lara still couldn’t fathom how Alyssa could want him. So he had a castle. And money. And a title. So what? He was still a loser. A pig. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t stomach being in Christopher Abbot’s company a second longer.” Lara took Reece’s hand and they headed towards Toby who was bragging to Abbot’s squire about his superior training and the honorable knight he served.

“You look ravishing in that dress, Lara,” Reece whispered in her ear.

She flushed despite herself. “Thank you.”

“I need to ask Toby something. Would you wait here for a moment?”

She gave him a questioning look, but nodded. He spoke to Toby, got a vigorous pat on the back, and was handed the reins of his horse. Toby pointed out towards the east of the castle and patted Reece on the back again. Reece smiled at him in appreciation and then headed in Lara’s direction.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise. We’re going for a ride.”

She smiled. “A ride? Aren’t we going back to Clayton castle?”

“Just a little side trip. Someplace private.” He leaned closer and his warm breath stirred the fine hairs behind her ear. “To celebrate.”

Her breath caught in anticipation. She could think of nothing more thrilling than being alone with this man. Except celebrating with him. Reece helped her mount the horse sideways, which left her feeling very unbalanced. He then climbed up behind her and wrapped his arms around her as he took up the reins. She snuggled against his well-muscled chest, suddenly feeling secure. And loved. The still-gathered spectators cheered as Eleanor and Reginald rode out the gate.

Lady Eleanor looked up at Reginald. Breathless with happiness, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek against his face. “Are we really to be married, Reg?” she asked.

“I told you the first time I met you that I would marry you someday.”

“Reg, you were six years old!”

“True, but I was in love with you even then.”

She kissed him, thinking of the wonderful things he had done to her body the night before and wondering if it was too soon to ask him make love to her again. Maybe she could wait until their wedding night. Maybe.