Tournament of Hearts by Alyssa Stark Read Free Book Online Page A

open.  She had seen the long
bow and quiver tethered to his horse when she had arrived. 
    “I’d not call
myself an archer, but as a means of sport, aye.  I can hold my own with a bow
and on a good day, I can take some game.”
    “Best two out of
three?” Isobel challenged as she arched her eyebrow suggestively in the
direction of the bow.
    Tristan took
another sip of ale and passed the jug to Isobel, smiling slightly at her
competitive nature.
    “Or are you afraid
to be bested by a woman?” she added with a provocative smile.
    Tristan narrowed
his eyes as means of accepting her challenge.  He nodded once at Isobel, who
smiled sweetly as she lifted the earthenware jug of ale to her lips.  Standing
abruptly, Tristan strode over to Justice and untied the bow.  He slung the
quiver over his shoulder and walked back towards Isobel.
    Her face was
flushed from the ale, casting a lovely pink glow about her cheeks.  Tristan
offered her his hand and she took it readily, giggling softly as he lifted her
to her feet. 
    Isobel felt the
warmth of the ale spread through her body, casting a lightness of spirit that
made her momentarily forget her troubles.  As Tristan pulled her to her feet,
she giggled for no reason in particular and lost her balance only slightly,
using her palm against Tristan’s chest to steady herself. 
    Still laughing
softly from the unfamiliar sensation of the ale, Isobel looked up into
Tristan’s hazel eyes as she braced herself against his expansive chest.  His
smile was genuine and she noticed that it was slightly lop-sided, lending him
an endearing, boyish quality.  Her eyes locked with his for a split second,
increasing the cadence of her heart beat.  Isobel righted herself quickly,
regaining her balance and taking a step away from the blacksmith.
    “I think you’re
drunk, milady,” Tristan said with a chuckle.  His voice was soft and teasing.
    Isobel stifled a
giggle and brought her hand to her lips in an effort to hide her broad smile. 
It felt delicious to cast her cares aside and indulge in these new feelings. 
It felt delicious to be alone with Tristan again.
    “Do ye think it
wise to challenge me to a competition when ye can hardly stand straight
upright?” Tristan chided playfully.
    Isobel shook her
head, admitting the silliness of her challenge.
    “And when I win,
what shall be my prize?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
    “I am a very good
shot, blacksmith,” Isobel said with confidence as she straightened her spine
and tried to repress the warm, heady affect of the ale.  “I’ll know my prize
first,” she said as she crossed her arms and glowered at Tristan.
    “So sure of
yerself,” Tristan goaded as he clicked his tongue and shook his head from
side-to-side.  “We’ll see about that,” he said as he removed an arrow from the
quiver and threaded it into the string of the bow.  “As far as yer prize,
understand lass that it is quite unlikely that you shall win, but should a
miracle occur you may keep the dagger without paying me for it.”
    “Hmm,” Isobel said
as she smiled ruefully.  “That sounds reasonable enough, blacksmith.”
    “And what shall be
my prize when I win?”
    “I’ve not decided
yet,” Isobel said as she bit her lower lip.  “I had not considered the fact
that you might win.”
    Tristan laughed
earnestly, a deep rumbling sound that resounded through the trees.  Isobel
McLaughlin was a woman unlike any he had met before. 
    “I’ll consider it
and advise you when I decide,” she said, scrunching her eyebrows together.
    “Alright then. 
Ladies first,” he said as he strode towards Isobel and handed her the bow. 
“Where is our target?”
    “Just over there. 
Do you see the slight hollow place in that tree?” she asked, holding the bow
and arrow in one hand while pointing with the other.
    “Aye.  I see it. 
Can ye shoot that far, lass?”
    “Watch me,” Isobel
said with an air of challenge and she fitted the hilt of