Free The Bride Tournament by Ruth Kaufman

brooch she’d ever seen. Made of embossed gold, the heavy piece boasted nine large cabochon rubies.
    “I hoped you’d like it. ‘Your mouth provokes me, Kiss me, kiss sweet!’ Each time I see you so it seems to me,” Richard said.
    A sweet frisson of delight shot through her. She couldn’t help but remember the heat of his kiss, the surprising need he evoked. She felt herself blush.
    “’Tis a quote by Charles d’Orleans,” he added.
    The thoughtfulness of his gift touched her. She couldn’t dissemble in her thanks, no matter that she might encourage his pursuit. With a smile she couldn’t suppress, she said, “This is the finest gift I have ever received. I refer to both the brooch and the quote.”
    Richard smiled back, clearly pleased. His eyes gleamed, now more green than gray, making him even more striking. “I shall see you anon.” He bowed again and left the solar.
    “Don’t you see? You’re the most fortunate of brides,” Alyce said. “Your husband thinks to court you!” She smiled wistfully as she ran a finger over the rounded stones.
    First the wide sapphire wedding band and now this. Two spectacular pieces of jewelry from Richard in as many days. She couldn’t help but be flattered. Suddenly she wished she had something to give him in return.
    “What are you doing for him?
    “The most thoughtful thing of all. Finding him a better bride.”
    “Hmm. I wonder what else he has planned,” Alyce said. “Surely he doesn’t think even a beautiful gift will sway you from Arthur.”
    “Exactly what I was thinking,” Eleanor answered. She pinned it to her gown and admired the glow of the rubies.
    In all their years of betrothal, Arthur had given her but two presents, both of which she had treasured: a pair of hawking gloves and a rather plain belt. Gifts didn’t make the man. She was churlish to compare Richard and Arthur based on generosity.
    She shouldn’t compare them at all.
    “You can’t keep it, you know,” Alyce said.
    Instinctively her hand flew up to cover the brooch. “Why ever not? You saw Richard give it to me.”
    “And you heard him. He gave it to his wife. You’ll have to give it to his new bride when you choose her,” Alyce said matter-of-factly.

    That night, Eleanor stayed on her side of the bed as Richard packed. He’d removed his tunic, and moved about the room in his hose and shirt. The fabric clung to his broad shoulders as he added a few items to his baggage.
    His sword leaned against the wall beside his chests, some of his clothes hung on her pegs next to her gowns. His presence dominated the space. The novelty of having a man share her room hadn’t worn off. Nor had the trepidation of having to spend another night with Richard in her bed.
    “Has Blanche mentioned that she was in our room earlier?”
    Our room . How strange that sounded.
    His head snapped up. “Blanche was in here?”
    Eleanor relaxed, glad to have found a topic unrelated to their marriage. “I came upon her searching through one of your chests. She said you’d borrowed something long ago and she wanted it back.”
    “Did she say what?”
    “No. I wondered if she was telling the truth. She behaved suspiciously, so I locked all of your chests and took the keys.”
    “Good. Be wary of her,” he warned.
    “Why?”
    He sighed. “I hope the day will come when you do something simply because I say so. Be on your guard.”
    Getting information out of him was harder than pulling weeds from a parched garden.
    “Blanche said you were betrothed. That you were in love with her.” Just repeating the words set off a strange uneasiness.
    Richard froze. “What of it?”
    So Blanche had spoken true, in this at least. The thought of him caring deeply for another woman pierced deeper than it should have.
    “Why didn’t you marry her?” she asked. “Because the king didn’t command you to? Or wasn’t she high-born enough for a man with aspirations such as yours?”
    “What makes you think