The knight reined his foaming charger as close as he could, turning sideways so he was closer to the railing and closer to Cathlina. His visor was still lowered on his fearsome helm but she knew he was looking at her. The corners of her mouth twitched.
“Open the visor,” she said softly, eyes glimmering with the mirth and surprise of the situation. “Let me see if I recognize your eyes.”
“Will you give me your favor if you do?”
Her smile broke through. “I will do it quite happily.”
The visor flipped up and Mathias’ dark green eyes were twinkling back at her. “Do you know me?” he whispered.
Cathlina nodded. “I do indeed.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I am glad.”
Cathlina eyed him, glancing around to make sure they weren’t being watched. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to be overheard. “I heard my cousin tell you not to compete. He said men would try to kill you because of your association with… well, youknow.”
“He did not give me a direct order not to compete,” Mathias replied carefully. “Moreover, no one will know who I am. Myname is Chanson de Lovern. For the duration of the tournament, that is who you will address me as.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “De Lovern?” she repeated. “Who is that?”
“It is me.”
“Does Cousin Tate know what you are doing?”
“He does not, so I would appreciate it if you would keep this between us. No one knows.”
She still appeared bewildered but didn’t question him further. But she did want to know one thing.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly. “Why would you risk yourself so?”
He wrestled with the horse when it threw its head, waiting until it settled down before returning his attention to her.
“Because there is a young lady who has made me think that mayhap there is more to life than scratching out a living as a smithy,” he said quietly, his gaze riveted to her. “I am doing this because she is not yet spoken for and I am hoping that if I win this event, it will restore some of my honor and she will agree to let me court her.”
This time, Cathlina knew he was speaking of her. She couldn’t help the grin on her lips or the flush of her cheeks. She wore the simple but delicious surcoat of pale blue and the white linen shawl around her neck and shoulders. The shawl was the only thing she had that she could give the man so she pulled it off of her shoulders and wadded it up, extending the ball to him. As Mathias took it, she spoke.
“I would have agreed to let you court me if you had only and truly been a simple smithy,” she admitted. “You do not need to prove your might in order for me to take notice. I took notice of you the day we met.”
He had the balled-up shawl in one big hand, gazing at her with more emotion than he could ever recall when it came to awoman. His chest was warm and tight, his heart fluttery. It was the oddest sensation but wholly wonderful. He had to fight the urge to dismount the horse and take her in his arms, for never in his life had he wanted to hold a woman so badly. His entire body fairly ached with desire. Bringing the shawl to his nose, he inhaled deeply the scent of roses. A common enough scent but one that was as sweet and beautiful as she was.
“When men ask you if you are spoken for, what will you tell them?” he asked, his words muffled by the shawl.
She lifted an eyebrow. “I am not sure,” she said. “Until you ask if you can court me, I suppose I am still unspoken for. You have not asked at all.”
“May I court you, my lady?”
He said it without hesitation and she laughed. “I was hoping you would.”
Mathias suddenly slapped his faceplate down. At the same time, Cathlina felt a body next to her and she turned to see Roxane standing at her left hand, curiously looking at Mathias who, by now, was thundering back across the arena.
“Who was that?” Roxane wanted to know.
Cathlina sighed. “A very nice knight by the name of de Lovern,” she said. “He asked for my favor. Since you have already given yours away, I saw no harm in giving mine to him. What do you care, anyway? You have the mighty St. Héver at your feet.”
Predictably thrown off the subject of de Lovern and onto St. Héver, Roxane smiled happily and took her sister’s arm as they regained their seats. The field marshals were clearing the arena in preparation for the first bout and spectators were settling in for a thrilling day. The excitement in the air was palpable as the horns began to sound, announcing the countdown to the first round.
This day, of all days, would be memorable.
CHAPTER TEN
