Clutching the ribbon in numb fingers, she stood to face Gray. His expression was inscrutable, but his sea-mist eyes held her gaze. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel as if she stood with him alone, no longer surrounded by the dozens of spectators, hushed now, in the pavilion.
With a soft clicking sound, he nudged his mount forward, all the while keeping his gaze locked to hers. Her lips felt dry; she licked them and swallowed against the tight feeling in her throat, hoping against hope that she’d not also be required to speak as part of this unfamiliar ritual.
Gray seemed to sense her hesitation; with a slight nod, he indicated that she should hold out her token to him. As if in a dream, she leaned over the edge, arm outstretched to reach him. Though her hand shook, the stiff breeze made the ribbon flutter, masking her trembling. Gray lifted the point of his sword to her, and somehow, she managed to fasten the token to its tip.
When he took the scrap of scarlet from his blade and tied it to the emblazonedailetteat his shoulder, Catherine felt a burst of pride the likes of which she’d never known. Then he raised his gaze to hers again, his eyes glowing with the same passion he’d shown last night when he kissed her in their bedchamber, and she was sure her heart would burst from the force of its thudding in her chest.
“For your honor alone, my lady.”
His oath, murmured in husky cadence, caressed her like the stroke of his hands over her skin. It wrapped her in a tingling cloak of intimacy, its power taking her so by surprise that it knocked the breath from her lungs.
Dimly she recognized that she wasn’t alone in her reaction to his gentle vow. A hum rose from the ladies around her, their envious sighs mingling with soft exclamations as they watched the most powerful knight in the kingdom offering homage to her.
But in the next instant he was gone, nodding to the crowd as he wheeled his stallion about and spurred him to a gallop. His men followed close behind, all of them thundering across the green to position themselves with the other warriors, both on foot and mounted, at the southern end of the field.
“You carried the moment with a fine show of grace, my lady,” William said, patting her hand.
She nodded her thanks, somehow finding her seat again. The buzzing in her ears began to recede, and she tried to focus on what the old man was saying. His voice rose and fell as he prattled on about how fine a day it was for a tournament and about how evenly matched both sides seemed to be. Then he shook his head and smiled, wondering aloud how she would be able to choose sides in the contest, since her brother’s forces held one end of the field while her husband’s defended the other.
William’s last comment cut through the happy fog in her brain; she tried not to gape at the old man. “Lord Montford and Lord Camville are onopposingsides of the green?”
“’Tis customary, my lady. Your husband and his men will hold the field against all comers to the tournament. That includes your brother and his forces.”
Dread circled Catherine’s throat as she considered the possibilities of that scenario. No one knew better than she of Eduard’s hatred for Gray. And though she hadn’t really understood what he’d meant when he’d boasted that he planned to collect ransom from her husband today, it hit home now with a vengeance.
Gray held no fondness for Eduard, either, she knew; after witnessing her bruises last night, he’d vowed to seek retribution against him at this tournament.
For your honor alone, my lady.
The squeezing sensation increased in Catherine’s chest. That Eduard would try to kill Gray seemed unlikely; before the wedding, he’d rejected her suggestion of defeating him openly on the field, calling such an action useless as far as obtaining the position and lands he sought by his rival’s demise.
But what if Gray managed to slay Eduard? Her odious brother by marriage had as much as told her that he’d already ordered his men to murder her children should she be foolish enough to attempt to expose his evil plots. And regardless of the method, his men might well assume it was her doing if Eduard turned up dead.
Sweet Lord in heaven…
Suddenly William leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Ah, look, lady. ’Tis what we’ve been waiting for.”
Time seemed to stop as she raised her gaze slowly to the field spread out before them, to the dazzling array of knights positioned on either end of it. A horn sounded in the distance, and the great expanse erupted into a deafening chaos of hurtling bodies, charging steeds, and flashing weapons.
“’Tis the moment of truth, my lady,” William shouted above the din. “The battle has begun.”
Chapter 4
Until the numbness began to invade her wrists, Catherine didn’t realize how tightly she was clasping her hands. Releasing the grip, she winced at the burning, prickling sensation flooding her fingers. But for the past quarter-hour she couldn’t drag her gaze from the sight in front of her. Couldn’t pull her thoughts from the worry that gnawed with increasing ferocity at her heart.
The tournament field was a scene of pure bedlam. Great gouts of dirt lay scattered across the green, kicked up by hooves of war mounts that careened and reared at their masters’ commands. Colors flashed, men shouted, and weapons clashed against shields and armor in a metallic clamor that Catherine thought must harrow the soul of the most stalwart in the crowd.
Yet taking a swift glance in either direction, she realized that the people around her seemed to be enjoying themselves. It startled her almost as much as the action on the field. She looked at William. He was leaning forward, cheering what she assumed must be acts of valor or prowess by the small packs of knights, some on horseback and some not, who occasionally broke away from the large group to fight on the edges of the green.
“’Tis difficult to see what’s happening,” she called to him, trying to be heard over the crowd. “Can you find Lord Camville anywhere?”
“Aye, my lady,” he answered, tilting his head to her, though his gaze remained fixed to the field. “There he is, directly in the center.” William pointed. “The eagle on his device catches the sun. ’Tis the golden flash you see now and again.”
Catherine struggled to find what he described. To her, the field looked like a writhing mass of animals and men, the horror of it compounded by the din of battle. But what William said was true. If she focused on the center group, she could see an occasional glint of gold backed by sapphire. Yet she couldn’t tell how her husband fared, or if he’d dealt Eduard any blows.
Of a sudden the crowd surged to their feet, a collective shout marking some momentous happening. Catherine shot from her bench as well, straining to interpret the sight; she tugged on William’s sleeve. “What is it? Why is everyone so excited?”
“’Tis almost over, my lady,” he shouted. Then he began to stamp and cheer as loudly as the rest of the spectators. She saw that many of the knights seemed to be turning their steeds and charging off the green, hotly pursued by opposing warriors. Even the smaller clusters seemed to dissipate as the combatants ceased their struggles and headed toward either end of the field.
