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“I will!” Mr. Birdwhistle shouted, raising his lance from the other end of the list.

“Nay, send me!” David—Jess’s husband—cried out.

“I will fight for her!” shouted James.

Then, silence. Blast. Matthew had forgotten his cue.

“I am the bravest knight! I shall rescue the lady!” he shouted.

His words had sounded less convincing than the others, but could he be blamed? He was still too focused on Winnie being dragged away to the outskirts of the event, standing near another platform they’d built beneath a tree—the very tree she’d stood under that first festival so many weeks ago. Her hands were bound behind her back, and Mrs. Birdwhistle was crouched low beside her in a menacing stance.

Winnie’s eyes were still on Matthew.

“So many brave knights,” Mr. Aiken chimed in. “Which will our king choose?”

“Whomever wins the tournament,” Dad said, “will win the right to fight for the lady’s rescue—and her hand.”

Matthew looked back to Winnie, her eyes still on him, and his heart leapt. That look she was giving him…she had to be staying. She had to have changed her mind about leaving. Right?

His mind swirled, his heart beating against his chest. He needed to speak with her. To ask her flat out what had happened between her leaving him the night before—and her returning this very moment.

And he needed to see her closer in that dress.

But he couldn’t very well leave the joust right in the middle of it, not with all those people watching.

Mr. Aiken continued, but Matthew didn’t hear his words until the man shouted, “Let the tournament commence!”

Matthew didn’t take his eyes off Winnie, his chest swelling. There was only one thing left to do. He had to follow through on his word, to win the tournament for the love of his life.

He slammed his visor down and faced forward, gripping his lance with a firm grasp.

Now he had something to fight for.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Winnie had never seen Matthew joust so well. She’d watched him in training, in practice, and in actual tournaments, but never had she witnessed his form so perfect, nor his passion so evident.

She couldn’t help but hope that it was due to her coming back.

Time after time, with each of the knights he competed against, his lance splintered into pieces, gaining him more and more points as the tournament went on, until finally, the last match arrived.

Winnie stood beside Mrs. Birdwhistle still, both of them staying in character for the better part of the tournament, despite Winnie growing antsier by the minute.

She’d been unable to stop the pride welling in her heart, the look of shock on Matthew’s face having been well-worth all the effort and all the uncertainty. Gone were her insecurities from before, dressed in the medieval gown and wearing a heart-shaped hennin headpiece, replaced with a burning desire to speak with the man she loved.

She really couldn’t believe her life in that moment, watching the man she loved jousting. Jousting. Of all the things. She’d always pictured herself being with some executive of a fancy business who was obsessed with work and money—not because she wanted to, but because she would have no other options.

But a knight on a horse with a lance in his hand? Now that was unbeatable.

The final joust was run, Matthew’s lance once more splintering against James’s armor, and Mr. Aiken—that blessed brother-in-law who showed so much excitement—shouted into the mic.

“Three cheers for the victor, Sir Matthew of Foxwood!”

The crowd roared, Mr. Aiken playing a short music clip of “Low Rider” over the speaker before Mrs. Birdwhistle pretended to drag Winnie back to the arena where the final event would take place.

Her heart raced as she watched Matthew riding around the area for his victory lap, a fresh lance in his hands being raised in the air. How she wanted his helmet removed so she could see his features again. She wanted to be with him—to speak with him, to explain.

But they had to wait, no matter how her heart yearned to be with him.