Free Tournament of Hearts by Alyssa Stark Page B

fate.
    Tonight
was precious.
     It
was the last night when she would feel truly free, truly able to enjoy the life
that had been hers.  She wanted to feel alive tonight, to feel the hot blood
rushing through her veins.  She wanted to spend this last night with Tristan
and under the ruse of needing one more lesson with her dagger, she had gotten
him to agree to meet her in the forest. 
    She
cursed herself for hoping that he might kiss her again.
    With
just a look of his alluring hazel eyes, Tristan could make her have all sorts
of improper thoughts.
     
    ..ooOoo..
     
    Tristan
slowed his breathing and leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree.  A
rueful smile tugged up the corner of his full mouth. 
    He
could hear Isobel approaching from a mile away. 
    A
drunken sailor could stagger through the forest with more grace and secrecy
than petite Isobel McLaughlin.  Tristan smiled silently as her boot snapped yet
another dry stick littering the forest path.  He had to bite his lip in a mighty
effort to stifle a laugh when he heard her curse out loud at her lack of
ability to remain silent.  Lady Isobel McLaughlin was a contradiction if he had
ever seen one. 
    A
beautiful, intriguing contradiction that had overtaken his every waking
thought.
    Mo
sonuachar.
    He
smiled as he thought of the lovely, unconventional lass that had completely
stolen his heart.
    Perhaps
tonight he would tell her.  Perhaps tonight he would tell her the truth that
beat in his heart.
    He
was falling in love with her.
    Tristan’s
muscles tensed as she came closer.  His breathing was shallow and restrained as
he leaned back against the trunk of the tree.  Isobel was now directly behind
the tree that secreted his presence.  Calculating his move with remarkable
precision, Tristan sprang from his hideout and clapped a hand over Isobel’s
mouth.
    Isobel’s
heart nearly stopped.
     A
wave of complete terror zipped up her spine and sent adrenaline flooding
through her body as her captor wrapped a muscled arm about her middle and
pulled her towards himself.
    Fight
or flight.
    Her
captor was much stronger than she, which eliminated the option of flight.  Isobel
screamed against his hand and prepared to fight.
    She
stomped her boot harshly against the top of his foot, catching her captor by
surprise.  He eased his grip about her waist only slightly, but it was enough. 
Reacting instantly, Isobel spun in his arms and brought her knee up towards his
groin. 
    Anticipating
her intent, the man moved to block her knee, giving Isobel a split second
advantage.  She shrugged from his grasp and reached beneath her skirt for her
dagger.  Relief surged through her body when her hand melded around the
familiar metal hilt of the weapon. 
    At
least now she would have a chance to defend herself.
    “I’d
be a fool to let you get away with kneeing me there twice,” Tristan said
with a chuckle as he relaxed his stance and removed his hood to reveal himself.
    “Tristan!”
Isobel scolded.  Her hands went to her hips momentarily and then crossed in
front of her chest.  “What on Earth?  You scared me half to death!”
    “As
was my intention,” Tristan said gloatingly as he raked a hand through his
unbound hair.  “You asked me to teach you to fight,” he said as a manner of
defense.  He could tell that Isobel was steaming mad.
    “But
I most certainly did not ask for you to accost me in the process!”
    “It
comes with the territory, milady,” Tristan said teasingly as he bowed with mock
formality.  “Think of it as a test of your fledgling skill.”
    Isobel
shook her head in exasperation.  She struggled to control the racing beat of
her heart.
    “Ye
did braw well, lass.  I’m right proud of ye,” Tristan complimented, his face
lit by the moonlight and a proud smile.  “Must have had a good teacher.”
    “The
best,” Isobel said, smiling softly and conceding.  She simply could not find it
within herself to stay angry with Tristan.