Free Tournament of Hearts by Alyssa Stark Page A

is
dead,” he whispered.  “McLaughlin passed nigh on a fortnight ago.”
    “Christ, Da!”
Rogan exclaimed as he sputtered, nearly choking on his ale.  “Does the whole
clan know?” he asked, his eyes wild.
    “Shh!” Hector
barked.  He elbowed his son harshly in the ribs.  “Of course the clan doesna
know!  What, with no successor?  Are ye daft, son?”
    Rogan took another
sip of ale.  He set his mug down and toyed with the handle as he processed the
surprising news.  Rudy McLaughlin had been a good man.  Rogan was sorry to hear
of his passing.
    “He’s not chosen
an heir,” Hector whispered, again glancing over his shoulder.  The room was a
buzz with conversation.  The band of warriors that Rogan had led on the raid
had returned just after dark.  The great hall was the hub of the clan, the very
place where the McLaughlin warriors were welcomed home by their families.
    “Why would he do
such a reckless thing?  He’s been ill for quite some time.  Seemed to me that
he had ample time to choose a husband for Isobel,” Rogan whispered thoughtfully
as he took another dreg of ale, this time emptying his mug.
    Hector laughed as
he thought of his friend.  Rudy had been unconventional at best.
    “There is somewhat
of an opportunity,” Hector began.  “McLaughlin devised a tournament of sorts
before his death, a tournament whose victor will claim Isobel’s hand in
marriage as well as the McLaughlin Lairdship.”
    “Christ!” Rogan swore
under his breath.  “Did the Laird go daft?  A tournament?”
    “Guard your voice,
son!” Hector barked.  He glowered at his son, his glare silencing Rogan’s
comments.
    “Tis reckless,”
Rogan said as he looked down at his hands.  He had known Isobel the entirety of
his life and the fact that her father would leave her marriage up to the chance
of a hastily planned tournament did not sit right in his mind.  Isobel was a
lovely lass, the pride and joy of her clan.  She deserved better.
    “ You could
win this tournament,” Hector said as he reached over and grabbed his son’s
arm.  “You could win, Rogan!  Think of it!  Our blood mingling with the McLaughlin’s! 
My son and future grandsons rightfully claiming the Lairdship to this clan!”
    Rogan looked at
his father.  Hector Cameron was battle worn from a life of war and struggle. 
He had trained his son to do the only thing that he himself had ever known.  He
had trained his only son to be a fearsome, ruthless warrior.
    Hector Cameron was
right.
    Rogan could win this tournament.
    Rogan reached over
and gripped his father’s arm.
    “I will win the
tournament,” he vowed.  “I will win it for the both of us.”
     

 
    ..oo      Chapter Nine     oo..
     
     
    Isobel ran like
the devil was at her heels, her blonde curls streaming out behind her in the
silver glow of the moonlight.  Her feet trod carefully against the earth as she
raced towards to cover of the dark forest.  She leapt from side-to-side, her
boots dodging dry leaves and sticks that would betray her presence.   Her heart
fluttered with anticipation as adrenaline coursed through her body.   Her
father’s guards were ever watchful and it was no small feat to escape their
detection.
    The keep loomed
behind her, its stones glowing white in the moonlight.  Isobel reached the
security of the trees, the dark foreboding branches cloaking her with welcoming
secrecy.
     She had made it. 
    The welcome sense
of relief coursed through her body, putting her at ease and slowing the rampant
beating of her heart.
    Slowing her gait
to a leisurely walk, Isobel walked deeper into the forest.  The light of the
full moon lit her path, but the branches of the trees made it difficult to
progress quickly.  Excitement filled her senses and she realized just how much
she was looking forward to meeting Tristan.
    She
wanted to see him just once more.  Tonight was the eve of the blasted
tournament that would decide her