Tournament of Hearts by Alyssa Stark Read Free Book Online

the small mistruth that she had told him.  She had
not wanted further instruction with the dagger.  She had simply wanted an
excuse to see him again.  Tristan had overtaken her thoughts since their
meeting in his blacksmith shop.  His lop-sided smile and intriguing hazel eyes
had plagued Isobel’s dreams each night since their first encounter.
    Although Tristan
was a handsome man, it was not just his physical attributes that drew her
towards him.  He had a charming, playful nature that she found quite
endearing.  Isobel loved how Tristan joked with her.  He was quick of wit and
it was evident that he loved to badger her.
    “Perhaps I should
empty these out sometime!  I can never find exactly what it is I’m looking
for,” he said with a chuckle as he found what he was rummaging for in the
saddle bag and turned towards Isobel.  Tristan walked towards her carrying an
array of small packages.  There was an earthenware jug suspended precariously
from his pinky finger that Isobel reached out to grab.  He settled himself
carefully to the ground so as not to drop anything, and then went about the
business of arranging the food.
    Tristan opened the
linen wrapped parcels and tore off a hunk of bread, which he handed to Isobel.  He
took a bite himself and then uncorked the jug of ale, taking a deep dreg of the
cool refreshing liquid.  He handed the jug to Isobel and her eyes flew open
widely.
    “What is it?” she
asked as she sniffed the jug experimentally, scrunching up her nose in
distaste.
    Tristan laughed
heartily at her comical expression.
    “Ale.  What else?”
    “My father has
never let me try ale!  He says it’s unladylike to partake in spirits,” she said
with a rueful grin.
    “When opportunity
knocks, milady, ‘tis best to let it in,” Tristan said in means of invitation.
    Isobel arched an
eyebrow and lifted the jug to her lips.  Closing her eyes, she took a hearty
swallow of the amber liquid.  Its bitterness made her pucker her lips and she
shuddered involuntarily.
    Tristan laughed
genuinely, his smile reaching the corners of his eyes.
    “I thought it
would taste better!” Isobel exclaimed as a giggle fell from her lips.
    “It will if ye
drink more,” Tristan said, still laughing as he motioned for Isobel to take
another sip.
    Obliging him, she
tipped the jug upwards and took a deep swallow of the ale, bracing herself for
the bitterness.  Her nose scrunched upwards and she squeezed her eyes shut,
eliciting a muffled laugh from Tristan.
    “Tis hardly that
bad, lass!  Pass me some,” he said, still chuckling as he reclaimed the jug and
took a robust swallow of ale.  “Tastes fine tae me,” he said, jokingly.
    “Must be an
acquired taste,” Isobel said as she made a face of mock disgust.  She reached
over to Tristan and took the jug of ale.  Raising it to her lips she took
another hearty sip.
    “Slow down, lass,
or ye willna be able to ride back to the keep!” Tristan warned as he took the
ale from her hands.
    Isobel passed the
jug back to Tristan and giggled as she wiped the remnants of ale from her lips.
    “I reckon that yer
father will be right cross when he discovers that ye have snuck away from your
guards.  And if he were to find out that I’ve corrupted you with ale…I shudder
to think!” Tristan teased.
    “Pay no mind,”
Isobel said freely.  “I shall do as I please,” she said as she leaned back in
the grass and closed her eyes, delighting in the feeling of the sun warming her
face.  Being with Tristan made her feel slightly reckless but completely carefree. 
Being with Tristan was an escape from her well-guided, proper life.
    The smile fell
from Tristan’s face as he watched Isobel.  Her hair spilled onto the grass
behind her, stark in contrast with the green grass.  The sun warmed her lightly
freckled face and Tristan knew that he had never beheld a lovelier sight than
Isobel McLaughlin.
    “Are you an
archer, Tristan?” Isobel asked as her eyes flew