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Breathless, Winnie looked around her at the joyful smiles on the faces of those still in attendance. Clearly, they all wanted to see more, Winnie more than anyone as she maintained her focus on Matthew.

She was apt to forget all about his mean comments the night before in his dad’s study, replacing the image of his sullen frown with how unbelievably attractive he was jousting on his horse—and she hadn’t even seen his face, for crying out loud.

The imagery, the pageantry, the theatricality of it all made her feel as if she was living hundreds of years ago, surrounded by gallant knights, regal women, and acts of bravery.

The sport that had veritably thrust her into the past and awakened a side of her she didn’t even know existed. Sure, the faire needed a boatload of work, but the jousting? The jousting was a triumph that she could watch again and again.

Unfortunately, the time between strikes took far too long, and after a ten-minute wait, the other two knights finally took their turn riding down the tilt. While still thrilling, these men rode slower and less powerfully than Matthew had, and Winnie found her eyes trailing once more to him at the top of the list.

Matthew had dismounted his horse and removed his helmet to stand with a family on the far side, speaking to a little boy who stood anxious with his pointer finger in his mouth. Matthew smiled at him, then motioned to the horse. The little boy nodded, and, after being lifted up by his dad, reached forward to stroke the black hair of the gelding.

Little-by-little, the boy’s anxiousness clearly decreased as he removed his finger from his mouth and pet the horse more willingly. Matthew nodded encouragingly as he did so, speaking with the family until he moved to the next group of individuals.

Winnie watched the display with a growing warmth in her heart. All the other knights stayed in the arena, away from the spectators. But Matthew spoke with each family on the side, spending time with the kids more than anyone else—a real knight of the people—before his name was called to joust once again.

Winnie couldn’t deny the care he showed by his actions, nor what it revealed about his character. It was obvious he loved the festival. So why was he not doing more to save it?

After he jousted again, driving home the fact that Winnie was really falling for this knightly sport, only two more clashes occurred before the knights stood at the top of the arena and waved goodbye with a raise of their lances and a hand to their armor-covered chests.

Winnie stared after them, her lips parting in surprise. Was that it? Were they really done after only six runs?

Sure enough, the knights dismounted and took off their helmets one-by-one.

Winnie scoffed in disbelief. What a crock.

Once more, her tablet came up.

How does the scoring work?

Who won the tournament?

What happened to the damsel—not that I really care…

Why only six jousting occurrences?

Too long between jousts

Her hand cramped with how much she wrote, but she didn’t stop, the ideas she had for the faire coming fast. Carnival games, rides, treats, edible food, vendors selling goods. And much more jousting.

She had her work cut out for her, and she couldn’t wait.

That is, until she felt a pair of eyes watching her. Sure enough, as she lifted her gaze, she found Matthew staring at her with a pointed scowl. He must have seen her scribbling away on her tablet and was now judging her because of it. Or maybe he was still just upset that she’d been placed in charge of his event. Either way, she wasn’t going to let his sour attitude stop her from doing her job.

She delivered an intentionally over-the-top sweet smile, then raised her tablet to add one more thing to her list of things to change.

And it would be her biggest challenge of all.

MATTHEW

CHAPTER TEN

Matthew rolled his neck back as he walked across the grounds of Foxwood, heading from the stables to the house. A few joints cracked as he did so, relief only lasting a moment before the tightness returned to his shoulders. His whole body was tense, as if he’d just been standing in the stocks for the better part of a week.

If only that had been his punishment. He’d prefer it to what he’d been sentenced to—watching that consultant judge his festival.

He’d seen the disapproving shakes of her head, the perpetual turning down of her lips, the incessant scribbling away at the tablet in her hands. And what he hadn’t seen, he’d heard from others about what they’d seen—bombarding guests with questions, scoffing at the size of the list, throwing away an entire box of nearly uneaten food.

Okay, that one he couldn’t fault her for. Even the mere thought of Dorothy Porter’s food was enough to make him gag. But still, Winnie didn’t have to be so obvious about it. She clearly had no clue as to what he was trying to accomplish with his festival.