The Celtic Knot. Shannon MacLeod

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СКАЧАТЬ steps to join Queen Meghan, clad in her elaborate Catherine Parr gown. With a practiced snap of her jeweled fan, she motioned for Lily to take the seat of honor next to her.

      The field was cleared of everyone except Ian and Renaud. Ian stepped forward and gave Lily a beseeching look. “Might I have a token of your favor, my lady?”

      Lily tugged the blue silk prop scarf from her sleeve and handed it to Ian with a smile. He pressed a kiss to it before tucking it into his doublet pocket.

      A fanfare sounded when the king exclaimed, “We expect a fair and clean fight, my lords. May the better man win.” Lily decided he sounded very…kingly.

      When the trumpets sounded again, the two men strode confidently to opposite sides of the field where the men-at-arms waited to assist them with battle preparations. Capes and sword belts were removed, gambesons were donned. Ian pulled his sabre from the scabbard with a flourish and the crowd “oohed” their approval. Not to be outdone, Renaud unsheathed his sword just as flamboyantly and the crowd “aahed.” Renaud sneered at Ian, his upper lip curling. Ian snarled back.

      The noble combatants turned to face each other in the center of the arena. Lily held her breath as they saluted and went en garde. Renaud made the first lunge which Ian easily brushed aside. He stepped away from the second lunge as well. His face reddening with anger, Renaud shouted, “You toy with me, sirrah!”

      Ian’s laugh was scornful. “Aye, I do. Now playtime is over and for you, schooling starts.”

      The crowd roared its approval when the swordfight started in earnest, blades flashing as the two men dodged and parried. Lily gripped the edge of her seat and whispered, “Who’s going to win?”

      Meg laughed, a happy tinkling sound. “We don’t know.”

      Lily jerked around to look at Meg in surprise. “You…you don’t know the outcome?”

      “We know the outcome. We just don’t know who will win the match.” She smiled. “Renaud may be the more skilled of the two since he plays this part more. Ian, on the other hand, might be a bit more…motivated.” With that, she turned back to watch the fight.

      What a strange comment, Lily thought, but her confusion quickly gave way to fascination–although she was certain neither would get hurt, it was frightening to watch the men locked in what appeared to be mortal combat. Their fighting styles were as contrasted as their appearances. Renaud, the courtly knight, fought in a graceful, classically trained fencing style, while Ian fought with the passion of a proud Celt chieftain.

      Lily and the crowd gasped as one when Ian lost his footing and staggered back, off balance. Renaud pressed the advantage, only to find he had walked into a well-laid trap. Ian shot a booted foot forward and swept Renaud’s legs out from under him. The Frenchman hit the ground with a hard thud, his sword bouncing out of his hand. Ian stood over him, his unwavering blade pointed at the fallen nobleman’s chest as he kicked the dropped sword out of reach.

      “Stay your hand, my lord,” Dan bellowed with a hearty laugh, stopping the match. “It would appear Sir Ian has won this contest. What say you?” The crowd responded with a loud cheer of approval as Ian offered his hand to help up the grinning Renaud. They clasped arms in camaraderie then Renaud retrieved his sword, giving Ian a jaunty salute before he ran from the field to rousing applause.

      Ian removed the padded armor, handing it and his sword to the man-at-arms, and approached the stage. He mounted the few steps to stand before the king and queen then dropped to one knee. “What would you have as your prize, sir knight?” the queen asked.

      Ian didn’t hesitate before answering, “A kiss from the lady, your majesty.”

      Dan boomed out again, scarcely needing the stage amplification, “My loyal subjects, has he earned his prize?” When the crowd shouted its approval, the king gestured toward Lily with a magnanimous wave of his hand. “Granted,” he said.

      Rising to his feet, Ian turned to Lily, who stood and held out her hand for the anticipated kiss. He took her hand and to her surprise, drew her slowly forward and encircled her narrow waist with his arm. He bent his head and against her lips whispered, “May I?”

      She trembled and sighed, “Yes.”

      His lips moved over hers, more of a gentle caress than an actual kiss. Lily leaned into him and his response was immediate, crushing her to him and claiming her mouth completely.

       …I know you…

      Suddenly no one else in the world was there and she gave herself up to him, yielding to the passion that without warning roared to life within her. Her senses reeled from the taste of him and she could feel his heart thundering in his chest keeping perfect time with her own. She raised her hand without thinking and threaded her fingers in his mass of curls, pulling him down. He clung to her even tighter.

      * * * *

      The crowd began to cheer wildly when it became more and more apparent this was in fact no staged kiss, but the real thing.

      “Uh…” Dan started, clearing his throat.

      Without breaking the kiss, Ian slowly held up one finger for him to wait and the crowd erupted into laugher. Another long moment went by and when the king barked in exasperation, “My Lord!” it brought another round of hilarity accompanied by applause.

      With a reluctant sigh, Ian raised his head. Lily’s eyes fluttered opened and she gave him a dreamy smile, swaying a little too much for his peace of mind. Catching her before she could lose her balance, he murmured “Thank you” into her ear. Dazed, Lily allowed Meg to lead her through the curtains into the tent at the rear of the stage, fanning at the younger woman’s furiously blushing face.

      The man-at-arms returned Ian’s cape and sword belt to him with an envious grin and donning them, Ian bowed low again before his brother-in-law. “That was bloody brilliant,” Dan whispered. Ian missed those words, his full attention riveted on the opening Lily had disappeared through.

      The king clapped his hands and when a troupe of acrobatic fools took the field, the two men slipped into the tent where the women stood waiting.

      “Good show, the both of you,” Meg said, grinning “Positively inspired, even.”

      “’Twas but the charms of the lady that made it so,” Ian said with a gallant bow. He offered Lily his arm and as he guided her through the exit flap, he looked back over his shoulder and mouthed “thank you” to the royal couple.

      Ian walked slowly with Lily to her tent, stopping occasionally for patrons who wished to congratulate him, admire her gown, or photograph the two of them together. When they arrived at their destination, he took her hands in his. “I want to see you again,” he said. “Are you free Wednesday?”

      When she gave him a shy smile of assent, he drew her close and curled a finger gently under her chin, tilting her face to meet his. “Thank you for the kiss,” he said. “I’m afraid I took advantage of your good nature, but the truth is, I wanted our first kiss to be a memorable one.”

      “Or perhaps one I surely could not resist,” Lily said with a coquettish smile. “And when you say first kiss, milord, do you foresee more in your future?”

      Ian shook his head sadly. “Ah, so you’ve seen through my clever ruse. ’Tis СКАЧАТЬ