The Highlander's Lady Knight (Midsummer Knights #2) - Madeline Martin Page 0,5
regarded his brother, hoping beyond hope Graham would not seem as smitten by Lady Isolde as he.
But nay, Graham’s focus was homed in on Lady Clara, a cocky grin already tipping the corner of his mouth.
Cormac leaned toward his brother. “Shall I take Lady Isolde?”
“And I’ll help myself to Lady Clara.” He lifted his brows suggestively and cut a path through the sea of people toward the Norman count’s daughter.
Cormac was preparing in his mind what he planned to say to Lady Isolde when the nobleman at the dais, presumably Lord Yves, stood up and began a speech to welcome them all to the Rose Citadel.
“In case you aren’t aware, he is Baron de la Rose,” Alan said under his breath. “The man hosting the tournament. You can either sit here at the lower end of the table or outside with the servants.”
Cormac lifted his brow. “I’m a chieftain.”
“Then I leave you to your feast, my lord.” Alan offered a slight bow and finally took his leave.
“’Tis ‘sir,’” Cormac grumbled, but the man was already too far away to hear.
Cormac scanned over the crowd and once more found Lady Isolde. She was no longer bothering to feign a smile as she watched the baron deliver his welcome speech. Her eyes narrowed as if in contemplation, and Cormac found himself wishing to see what filled her thoughts. And what he might do to gain access to them. And through them—her.
A man appeared behind Lady Isolde and sank onto the bench beside her. Cormac bristled as he recognized the tall, blond beast of a man as none other than Brodie Ross, the Scotsman to whom Lady Isolde had been promised.
Whatever appetite Isolde had possessed disappeared as Brodie settled onto the bench next to her. The heat of his thigh settled against hers and made bile crawl up her throat.
“Good evening, my lady.” His lowered voice held an intimacy she did not care for. Indeed, a shiver of disgust scrabbled over her flesh.
She did not bother to reply. She had hoped the empty seat at her side might be taken by another lord’s daughter, although in the pit of her stomach, she’d anticipated it would be filled by Brodie.
Lord Yves’s speech came to a conclusion, followed by cheers and toasts. Music and conversation resumed, and a servant settled a heavy platter of meat before them.
“We’ll be married within a sennight.” Brodie speared the venison with his eating dagger. “Lord Yves has already seen to all the preparations to ensure we can be wed following the melee.”
He let the chunk of meat slide from his dagger onto her plate. The cut was not a good one, riddled with fat that was already congealing into waxy white globs. For himself, he dug into the center of the pile of game and unearthed a slab of meat that still steamed with warmth from the oven.
Isolde swallowed the temptation to retch and glared down at her hands.
She wished she was wearing Gilbert’s armor now so that she could throw the gauntlet at Brodie’s feet and issue the challenge to save her honor. She was confident in her ability to fight with a sword. Her brother’s Captain of the Guard, Hugh, had instructed her for several years after she’d been left alone in an attack at their home at Easton. She’d sworn then never to allow herself to feel so helpless and by God, she would honor that vow to herself now.
Brodie would not have her hand in marriage.
Once she was free from the obligation with Brodie, she’d leave the Rose Citadel and the whole foolishness of the tournament.
“Where is Lord Easton?” Brodie asked.
“My brother is supping in his rooms as he doesn’t care for such formal occasions,” Isolde replied curtly, having prepared the lie earlier on. Though it truly wasn’t too far from the truth. While Gilbert enjoyed the glory and attention his title brought him, he didn’t relish the tedium of ceremony or casual conversation with those he felt were beneath him. Had he not been ferociously ill the previous evening and still moaning in his chamber when Isolde left, he would no doubt be in the apartments upstairs with at least one comely lady ready to warm his bed.
Despite Gilbert’s intention to wed Isolde off and the years of disdain he’d afforded her, she did experience a pinch of guilt for the incident with the potion. She’d even commissioned a stable lad to bring her word upon his recovery, so she could rest her conscience.