Page 1 of An Ill-Made Match

The Royal Summer Tournament at Caer-Lyoness

Roland gazed through his visor at the noble’s box, and saw her straight away. Eden Montmayne. In a sea of fluttering pretty gowns she sat there all in black, like a crow sat among a crowd of doves. Why then, did his traitorous pulse pick up to see her there? He spat into the dust. Doubtless it was that bloody dream he woke from in the early hours, breathless and hard with need. The same dream he’d been having for a six-month now. His loins didn’t seem to care one whit that she was a sour-faced bitch with more airs and graces than the King and Queen combined. He shook his sweaty hair from out of his face as his squire led his horse toward him, decked out in his colors of red and black. So intent was he on his horse, that the blow to his shoulder from behind made him wheel round in surprise. But it was only his comrade-in-arms, Sir Ned Bevan. “Bev,” he murmured.

“You’ve seen her then?” his friend said, with a nod in her direction.

Roland stiffened. “What of it?”

“Well, I’m just guessing that’s who you’ll be giving the Summer Queen’s crown to when you beat de Bussell.”

Roland nearly choked on his own tongue. “Her?” he spluttered. “Hardly! Why in god’s name would I give the tribute to her?”

Sir Ned blinked at him, taken aback by his vehemence. “Steady on Roly,” he said in bewilderment. “Everyone knows she’s the most beauteous maid in all Karadok.”

Roland stared at him a moment. Then glanced back at the box to see Eden seated next to Fair Lenora, her cousin. He hadn’t even noticed Lenora sat there, with her blinding beauty. Because the only one he could focus on was Eden Montmayne with her nose stuck in the air and her mouth pursed up like a maiden aunt! What the fuck was wrong with him?

Luckily Cuthbert arrived with his horse, so he turned from his confused friend to mount the large charger’s back as his squire passed him up his lance. The crowd grew louder with excitement and Bavol moved his feet uneasily and tossed his head.

“Steady boy,” he murmured. The fact was, he couldn’t dismiss the Lady Eden nowadays, not now he knew how that sharp tongue tasted and made desire curl low in his belly. Unable to stop himself he glanced in her direction again. She rarely graced the tourneys with her presence. Too low-brow an entertainment in her book, no doubt. Well, he’d give her something to look at, better than her pet poets, he vowed with a curl of his lip. He’d let her see him in all his glory, lifting the victor’s cup.

*

“He’s looking at you again,” said Lenora matter of factly.

Eden froze. “Whoever do you mean?” she asked though she knew full well who her cousin was referring to. Roland Vawdrey, the bane of her existence.

“Roland Vawdrey,” said her cousin, speaking aloud the name that Eden had deliberately left unspoken.

Eden repressed the urge to scream. “I’m sure he’s just looking at you, dear,” she forced herself to say, though her breathing quickened. She steadfastly refused to look in the direction her cousin was placidly gazing.

“No, he isn’t,” said Lenora tranquilly. “He hasn’t looked my way once, since you kissed him.”

Eden had to bite back the childish retort that sprang to her lips. I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me! Only the ruthless self-control she had exerted over herself from a young age saved her. Taking a calming breath in and out, she focused on the hazy blue sky and ignored the fact she was sat watching jousting, which she hated, specifically Roland Vawdrey jousting, who she hated even more. And that she was starting to perspire, which was her biggest hatred of all. Discreetly, she lifted her veil from the back of her neck to allow the breeze to cool her. The midday sun was really starting to make itself felt. Briefly, Eden considered explaining to her cousin just how much she disliked anyone referring to that solstice eve when Roland Vawdrey, in answer to a jester’s forfeit, had kissed her, tasting of spiced wine and hot sin. But that would mean confessing that she thought of it at all, and Eden never liked admitting to weaknesses. So instead, she folded her lips and did her best to look indifferent, as the two great hulking brutes thundering toward each other on their destriers, and collided with a great clash of lances. The crowd roared as their lances splintered on impact. Eden winced faintly at the thud of bodies hitting the ground. They’d both been unhorsed, she noticed with distaste. What happened in that event? Eden never attended the lists if she could get out of it. She watched now as they both rose from the dust, groping for their long swords. Eden sighed. Really? As if they hadn’t wrought enough damage on each other’s body’s. Roland Vawdrey was suddenly beating down on the other’s sword with a sudden burst of furious strength. The other knight, Eden had forgotten his name, who had seemed for a while equally mighty, fell to his knees under such a vicious onslaught. His sword was knocked from his nerveless fingers and Roland stuck his own blade-point under the wretched loser’s throat. They both turned their heads toward the royal box where the King and Queen sat watching. “Rise!” bellowed the King, coming to his feet and standing with his hands on the edge of the box. He nodded to the crowd as they drummed their heels against the wooden stands. Both combatants were now on their feet. “You’ve much improved de Bussell,” said the King. “But you’re not yet strong enough to rival the best.” The King’s gaze swept the crowd. “I give you your champion and mine. Sir Roland Vawdrey!” The crowd roared. Roland swaggered toward the royal box and the King passed him down a golden chalice and a purse of gold as prize. Then the final item – a floral wreath for the champion to bestow on the most beauteous maiden in attendance.

His own lance broken, Roland had to take up another to loop the flower-ring over. Eden’s eyes narrowed as she saw him walk toward the noble’s box where they sat, and she inched away from her cousin’s side, so he could hold up the floral tribute to Lenora. Sure enough, the lance tip hovered before her fair cousin and composedly, Lenora slipped it from the end with a smile and a wave to the cheering crowd before slipping over her pretty blonde hair. Roland had already turned his back and walked away as soon as Lenora put her hand to it. He did not wait to see her crowned. Eden glanced at her cousin to see if she was put out, but she looked as serene and placid as ever. In Eden’s opinion Roland should have waited for Lenora’s smile. He ought to have bowed when he offered tribute to the prettiest maiden in all Karadok. But no, he was an arrogant boor to the very last! Eden’s lips pinched tight. She had no idea why the crowd adored him so. Doubtless it was those Vawdrey looks that were to blame. The black brows and the strong jaw, the warm brown eyes and that curling dark hair. And there was the fact the crowd liked a winner. Otherwise, she told herself with a sniff, she could not account for it.

“He only gives it to me because I’m the prettiest,” said Lenora.

Eden looked up in surprise. For a second, her cousin’s voice had sounded almost wistful. “Of course you are,” said Eden at a loss. “It’s your due.”

“No, I mean-” Lenora broke off with a frustrated sigh. “He doesn’t-” She bit her lip. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you feeling well?” Eden asked her cousin. “Only it is very warm today and Uncle Leofric said-.”

“Yes, don’t fuss,” said Lenora reaching across to clasp Eden’s hand. “You know I like to watch the jousting.”

“I have no idea why,” grouched Eden. The idea her serene cousin liked to watch sweaty men grapple in the dirt was bizarre to her.

“Because no-one expects you to converse with them,” said Lenora. “And I love the anonymity of a crowd.”

“Anonymity?” repeated Eden in surprise. “You’ve just been crowned the Tourney Queen!”

Lenora shrugged. “Look around you,” she said calmly. “Does anyone look like they care? All focus is on the combatants not me. This,” she said pointing to the floral wreath in her hair, “Is merely one of the trappings of the tournament, and soon forgotten.”

Eden scanned the audience. Her cousin was wrong. It was only in the noble’s box that no-one batted an eyelid at her crowning. In the masses below, she spied many a woman casting an envious or admiring look Lenora’s way. But perhaps her cousin meant that no men were looking at her? In that respect, she was quite right, for once no men were staring. They were all looking at their idols who were now receiving runner-up tokens. She saw one mother pointing Lenora out to her child. She fancied she could almost hear her words. ‘Look at the beautiful princess, my darling’. The little girl waved, but Lenora was oblivious.

Eden elbowed her. “You’re wrong. Wave to that small child.”

Lenora raised a surprised hand. “Where-?” she asked. Eden pointed her out. Lenora waved obligingly and the small child jumped with excitement turning back to her mother.