The Highlander's Lady Knight (Midsummer Knights #2) - Madeline Martin Page 0,23

acquainted with Lady Clara,” she said abruptly.

Lady Clara? Cormac searched his mind for the name when understanding dawned on him. “I think I understand now.”

She sank the point of her eating dagger into the meat, so it stood upright and looked at him.

“My brother, Graham,” Cormac explained. “My twin brother, Graham. He holds an affinity for the lass.”

“Your twin?” she repeated slowly.

He nodded. “I’m older, which is why I’m chieftain. But we look the same. We drove our mum nearly mad when we were boys as we were always switching our names to confuse her.” He chuckled at the memory.

All at once, the tension relaxed somewhat from her shoulders, and a tight smile touched her lips. “Forgive me, I…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Cormac’s own stress eased somewhat. If she’d seen Graham and Lady Clara and had assumed Graham was Cormac, did her reaction mean she was jealous?

He practically grinned at the thought. “I apologize if ye mixed us up,” Cormac replied. “It wouldna be the first time. I thought ye were upset over the counter-challenge.”

Her expression hardened, and she took a sip of wine from a goblet that appeared nearly empty. “Have you heard of Brodie’s champion?”

Cormac filled his own plate and reached for a roll. It had long since gone cold and would probably be hard as a stone by now. Tournaments often had such problems with their food. Too many people to serve, and too much food left out to cool while waiting to be delivered to the proper table. At least the meat was hot.

He put a bite in his mouth and chewed the tender morsel slowly as he considered how to answer Isolde’s question. Edmund the Braw was a man whose head rose over all others and whose arms were thick as tree trunks. Defeating him would be difficult for any warrior, even Cormac. But especially for the Earl of Easton.

Especially for a lady if Lady Isolde was indeed masquerading as a man. Cormac regarded her, and his chest drew tight.

“He is powerful,” Cormac said eventually.

“I see.” Lady Isolde’s lips pinched into a narrow line. She reached for some bread, and the draped blue silk sleeve of her gown caught at the table’s edge and drew back over her wrist to reveal her forearm. A vivid, purple-black bruise showed like ink on her fair skin.

She quickly covered it, and Cormac pretended to have been too fixed on his meal to have noticed.

But he had seen it.

And now he knew with certainty.

The Earl of Easton had not defeated Brodie that morn. The victor had been Lady Isolde. Which meant it was she who would go up against Edmund the Braw. And she who would die.

Unless Cormac could convince her to let him fight in her stead.

8

Isolde should not have attended the feast. Her body ached with every breath, and her chest throbbed with every blazing beat of her heart.

However, she needed to maintain appearances. It would not do to have her miss a feast simply because Gilbert had been counter-challenged after his win. Or at least, that was what she told herself.

She knew the truth. And judging by the little smile Matilda had given as she brushed Isolde’s hair to a brilliant shine, she knew it too.

The truth had everything to do with the man sitting at Isolde’s side. Sutherland.

That truth had been confirmed in the stab of jealousy she’d experienced when she’d thought she’d seen him with Lady Clara. In hindsight, she realized it couldn’t have been Sutherland. Not when the other man had such a cocky smile, and his gait had been more relaxed as he walked alongside Lady Clara.

Sutherland was far too rigid. Stoic.

She tugged down the sleeve of her dress, ensuring it covered her bruise. A quick glance confirmed he had not seen it on her arm. Thanks be to God. The last thing she needed in this complicated mess of events was for him to know she was playing the part of her brother as well as herself.

The serving girl refilled Isolde’s goblet with more wine. Already the numbing effects of the beverage heated through Isolde’s blood and eased the throb from the worst of her injuries.

She lifted the full chalice to her lips and drank deeply before addressing Sutherland. “How do you think my brother will fare against a man like Edmund the Braw?” She kept her attention fixed on Sutherland to gauge his reaction.

His jaw tensed, and his gaze flicked briefly away. Not a good sign. He