Tournament of Hearts (7 page)

His
heart ached for Isobel because he knew that she loved her father dearly.

Isobel
sniffled loudly and melted into Tristan’s arms.  She had not properly grieved
the loss of her father.  Tristan’s gentle words caused the dam holding back her
emotions to break.  She sobbed against his chest and he held her, bolstering
her strength with his own.

“I
loved him,” she sobbed against his chest.  “And I am alone now without him.”

“Nay,
lass,” Tristan refuted as he reached down and captured Isobel’s chin between
his thumb and forefinger.   He gently forced her face to look up.  “Ye are not
alone.  I am here for ye, now and always,” he whispered reverently.

“Oh,
Tristan,” Isobel cried as she buried her face against his chest once more.  Her
arms clung to him as she gathered strength from his comforting presence.

Understanding
overtook Tristan, rushing over his senses like a surge of chilly water.  The
cadence of his already pounding heart increased.  Holding Isobel in his arms
unnerved him.  His body would no longer allow him to deny how much he wanted
her. 

And
she was going to wed another. 

Tristan
felt a surge of panic over take him and his mind reeled, searching for a
solution.

“Has
your father chosen the man that you are to wed?” Tristan asked through clenched
teeth.  He closed his eyes, awaiting the horror of Isobel’s answer.

“No,
it is far worse than just that,” Isobel said softly.  “He’s ordered a
tournament to win my hand.  Men of suitable birth will compete in tests of
skill and strength, proving themselves as worthy leaders.  The winner shall be
my husband and the new Laird.”

“And
thus ye found need for a weapon,” Tristan sighed as complete understanding took
hold.  “Should your new husband prove to be unkind?”

“Aye,”
Isobel nodded.  She raised a shaking hand to dry the tears from her eyes.  “My
experience with men is that they hunger for power.  The men competing for my
hand do not want
me
.  They want my father’s Lairdship.”

“If
any of them hurt you – if any man raises a hand against you, I swear that
I’ll…”

“There
is nothing that you can do, Tristan!” Isobel exclaimed as she placed her palm
flat against Tristan’s chest in an effort to calm him.  He had gone from tender
protector to raging warrior in a scant instant.  “A husband can choose to treat
his wife as he wishes, especially when he is Laird.  When I am married there is
nothing that anyone, including
you
will be able to do to protect me! 
And that is why I came to you to learn to protect myself,” she said softly,
smiling half-heartedly.

“And
I am thankful that you did, milady,” Tristan said sincerely as he reached up
and stroked the side of Isobel’s face.  “But I fear that you are most incorrect
about your assumptions regarding men and women.  It would not have served you
well to have been born a boy.”

“Oh?”
Isobel said curiously as she looked up into Tristan’s handsome face.  The
corner of his mouth had turned up into that playful, boyish smile that caused
her heart to race.  This was the Tristan that she loved the best.  This was the
man who was rapidly stealing her heart, her heart that was not free to be
stolen.

The
light, playful touch of Tristan’s finger as it trailed down her jaw line sent
butterflies alight in Isobel’s stomach.  She closed her eyes briefly and
struggled to contain her feelings.  This was how it should feel between a man
and a woman.

“You
are correct in the fact that men can succeed Lairdships and rule people.  But
you are most incorrect about the role of women.”

“And
just how is that, blacksmith?  I
am
a woman,” Isobel teased, emboldened
by the heated blood that now coursed through her veins.  She suddenly found it
difficult to concentrate on anything besides the delicious feeling of Tristan’s
fingers against her skin.

“I
shall enlighten you, milady,” Tristan said playfully as he arched an eyebrow.  He
suddenly believed that all was not lost and desired to lighten Isobel’s mood.  “Tis
true that women cannot rule as Lairds and that they do not lead battles or have
the same physical strength as their male counterparts.  But, I do believe that
your
power as a woman is far greater than all of those things combined,” Tristan
said as his fingers slowly captured Isobel’s chin and nudged it up so that her
eyes locked with his.  “A woman can rule a man’s heart with the strength of her
love, empowering him or breaking him with a single whim.  With a subtle look,
she can rally the support of an entire army – willing each man to give his life
for the sake of her cause.  She can bring new life into this world, which is no
small feat if you ask me,” he said smiling softly.  “And she can capture a
man’s heart with one soft kiss.” 

Isobel’s
mouth fell open and she searched for words but found none.

Tristan
shook his head, silently insinuating that he was not done speaking.  He placed
a finger over Isobel’s lips, urging her to remain silent and let him finish.

 “You
are completely wrong about women, lass.  The power of a woman in far greater
than you think.”

Tristan’s
words caused gooseflesh to break out across Isobel’s skin.  Her breath came
raggedly now.

“You
have stolen my heart, Isobel,” Tristan whispered quietly as he looked into the
depths of Isobel’s eyes.  “And I love ye for it,” he smiled softly.

Isobel
closed her eyes.  Tristan traced his fingers lightly over her collarbone.  His
touch was magic against her skin.

He
loved her.

“I
love you, too,” Isobel whispered reverently as she stood on her tip toes and
placed a kiss on Tristan’s cheek.  His stubble tickled her lips and sent
marvelous shivers racing down her spine.  “And I thank the Lord that I found
you because at the very least, I know what it is to feel loved,” she said
wholeheartedly.  “Pray that it is enough to last me for the rest of my life.  I
had only wished to keep you for awhile longer,” she sighed, her heart breaking.

Tristan
held Isobel against his chest.  He suddenly realized that he possessed the
power claim her as his own.  Having worked so diligently to repress all
memories, all duties and rights from his life before, Tristan now realized what
he must do.

“Wishes
do come true,” he whispered as he looked down at her.  His heart overflowed
with love for the lass that he held in his arms.  Her skin glowed radiantly in
the moonlight.  Tristan wished that time could stop.  That he could hold Isobel
like this for eternity, cloaking her in the safety of his embrace and shielding
her against the outside world.

“If
we are speaking of wishes, what else do you wish for, Tristan?” Isobel said
softly. She wanted to know everything about this man, his darkest thoughts and
his deepest desires.

Her
words startled Tristan and returned his thoughts to the conversation.

“I
shouldn’t tell you just yet,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. 
“Because I’m just now starting to understand what it is that I wish for.”

“Tell
me,” Isobel prodded gently.  Her curiosity was now piqued.

“I’m
hoping that you will approve,” he teased as he hugged Isobel closer.

“What
is it that you wish for, Tristan?” she asked as she drew her face away from his
chest and looked up into his eyes.

A
moment passed in silence as Tristan reconciled his thoughts and chose his words
carefully.  He placed his hand gently on her shoulder and then ran his fingers
up and threaded them through her unbound hair.  Using his hand at the base of
her skull, he guided her face nearer still, so close that his breath warmed her
skin.

“Isobel,”
he whispered softly against her forehead and then placed a light kiss there.  “You
are what I wish for.”  Slowly he kissed her forehead, then her temple and then
her cheek.  “This is what I wish for.”

Isobel
closed her eyes and leaned into Tristan’s gentle, maddening touch.

“You
are all that I wish for,” she whispered.  Tristan’s kisses trailed down her
neck, sending waves of electricity that spread like wildfire through her body.

The
corner of his mouth turned up into the hint of a smile. 

She
wanted him in return.

Her
admittance was all the approval that his heart had been seeking.  Tristan’s
heart sung with happiness.  Isobel McLaughlin had single-handedly brought his
beaten and bloodied heart back from the brink of death.  In truth, Tristan had
believed that his heart was dead.  Isobel had breathed life back into his
battered heart causing it to beat with renewed fervor.

He
poured that happiness into his caresses, his soft kisses against Isobel’s
heated skin.  He wanted her to know, he wanted her to feel how much he desired
her.  Ever so lightly, he brushed his warm lips over hers as he trailed his
thumb down the curve of her jaw line.  When her lips parted slightly, Tristan
deepened the kiss, nibbling at Isobel’s lip and coaxing her to open her mouth. 

Isobel
heeded Tristan’s invitation and parted her lips slightly.  When his tongue
claimed hers she felt her knees weaken.  Never before had she felt such a
lovely sensation.  Tristan possessed her mouth fully, kissing her with the full
weight of his need.  She fitted her arms about his neck and clung to him,
allowing his strong arms to support her as she sagged against his chest.  The
rough whiskers on his face scratched against her delicate skin, the new feeling
sending shivers of pleasure zipping down her spine.

“Mmm,
Bella,” Tristan sighed heavily as he arched his sultry mouth possessively over
Isobel’s.  “This is my only wish. 
You
are my only wish.  And if the
only way to have you is to become Laird McLaughlin, then so be it.”

Tristan’s
words snapped Isobel back to the harshness of reality.   For she knew that no
matter how much she wanted to grant Tristan his wish, she could not.  She was
destined to marry another.  Tristan was not of noble blood, nor was he a Laird
or even the son of a Laird.

 They
would never be allowed to marry.  Isobel loved Tristan to the depths of her
soul, but in her heart of hearts, she knew that loving him was not enough.

A
blacksmith could not enter her father’s tournament.

Noble
blood.

Her
father had been very specific in his decree.

Tristan
tore his mouth away from hers.  Isobel felt his muscles tense beneath her
fingertips.

She
opened her mouth to tell him the harsh truth.

Tristan
was not eligible for the tournament.

 “Shh. 
Listen!” Tristan whispered.  His body thrummed with adrenaline.

Isobel’s
heart thundered wildly in her chest.  The words lingered unspoken on the tip of
her tongue.

“Do
you hear that?” Tristan asked, his eyes scanning the dense forest that
surrounded them.

“No,
I hear nothing,” Isobel said, panic overtaking her as she watched Tristan put
up his guard and abruptly change into the fierce warrior that she knew him to
be.  He had assumed the role of her protector.

She
held her breath, trying to listen, but heard nothing save for the racing beat
of her own heart.

 At
last, she heard the sound.

 It
was nearly imperceptible at first, coming from far in the distance.  It was
coming from the direction of the keep.  The sound of horse hooves reverberated
against the ground, growing slightly louder as they approached.  Her heart sank
when she heard the men calling her name, almost inaudible at first and then
slightly louder as they drew closer to the forest.

“You
must go, sweetheart,” Tristan said hurriedly, his voice riddled with concern. 
“Tell your guards that you went for a walk and became lost in the forest.  Let
them find you,” he ordered.

Isobel
nodded her head sharply, indicating that she understood his instructions.

“I
will wait to see that they collect you safely.  It will be alright,
sweetheart,” he said softly as he clasped both sides of her face gently in his
palms and slid his fingers back to bury them in her hair.  He pressed his lips
to hers once more, kissing her urgently.

Isobel
felt panic overtake her.  Its sickening tendrils gripping her stomach and made
her feel nauseous.  There were so many things that she needed to tell Tristan. 
There were so many words that were yet unspoken.

“Tristan!”
she cried out, her mind churning to find the right words to tell him the brutal
truth that was caught in her throat.

Her
eyes were wild as she glanced at the edge of the forest and then back to his
face.

“Go
to them!” Tristan ordered, his eyes stormy as the hoof beats came closer.  “And
know that I will fight for you, Bella.  Now that I’ve had you I cannot let you
go!  I will enter your father’s tournament.”

“But
you cannot!” Isobel exclaimed.  She glanced over her shoulder as the hoof beats
came even closer.  “You must have noble blood to…” she trailed off, fighting
the sudden urge to be sick. 

Her
heart was breaking.

Tristan
clearly did not understand.

“I
can and I will.  I will fight for you, Bella,” he proclaimed with pressing
urgency ringing in his tone.  “Go!” he ordered as he kissed her roughly and
pushed her gently towards the edge of the forest before slipping into the
darkness.

Isobel
glanced over her shoulder, looking to the place where Tristan had kissed her
only moments before.  She saw only darkness now.  Her mind was reeling with the
implication of his words. 

He
did not understand. 

Isobel’s
heart was breaking as she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other
and walk towards the clearing at the edge of the trees.  She could hear her
father’s guards clearly now, screaming her name into the blackness of the night. 
She walked towards them, her mind numb and her lips tingling from Tristan’s
hurried kiss.