Tournament of Hearts by Alyssa Stark

that had been cultured in him
from his first breath of life.
    Tristan
knew that he had the ability to win McLaughlin’s tournament.
    The
chance to love was worth fighting for.  Without even being aware of her power
as a woman, Isobel McLaughlin had claimed Tristan’s heart.  He would give his
dying breath to claim her as his own.
    He
stood alone, helpless in the dark moonlit night, surrounded by the looming
branches of the trees.  His hands felt empty without touching her, his lips
ached to kiss her again.  But his heart was affected the most.  It pounded
within his chest, beating out the mortifying rhythm of truth.
    Despite
his best intentions, he had fallen in love with Isobel McLaughlin.
     

..oo      Chapter Ten     oo..
     
     
    Isobel
closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold stone wall. 
Bolstering her reserve, she willed herself not to cry.  The chill from the
stone quelled the throbbing of her head.  She garnered what strength she could
from the ancient walls of her ancestral home.
    “Give
me strength, Papa,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the silence of
the corridor. 
    Swallowing
hard, she pushed away from the wall and opened her eyes.  Her fingers flitted
nervously to the folds in her gown and she brushed at them impatiently, wishing
to look as good as she might given that she felt lousy.
    Today
would be the day when she would meet her husband.  Her thoughts went to
Tristan, turning over the last words that he had said to her that night in the
forest.
    I
can and I will.  I will fight for you, Bella.
    What
had he meant?  Her father’s decree had been painfully clear.  Only men of noble
birth could enter the tournament.
    And
Tristan Finnegan was but a blacksmith.
    Isobel
made her way down the flagstone steps, clinging tightly to the banister to
steady her shaky legs, which threatened to rebel at any moment and carry her
back upstairs to the safety of her chamber.  She glanced at her hand, noticing
how white her knuckles appeared in contrast to the dark wooden beam of the
banister.
    Hodges
awaited her arrival at the bottom of the staircase.  He said nothing, but
nodded pertly and cleared his throat as he reached for Isobel’s hand.  She
smiled nervously as he tucked her hand into the crook of her arm and patted the
back of her hand reassuringly. 
    “It
will be all right, milady,” Hodges said softly as he led her towards the grand
front doors of the keep.
    “I’m
frightened,” Isobel admitted, swallowing hard in an effort to dislodge the knot
that had built in her throat.  Her hand trembled involuntarily and she grasped
Hodges arm, seeking the familiar comfort that his close proximity brought.
    “As
am I, dear.  This is not how your father and I had planned to see you wed, but
I vow to you that I shall honor your father’s memory and see that a good match
is made.  That was his dying wish, ye ken?”
    “Thank
you, Hodges,” Isobel said softly as she felt tears welling in her eyes. 
Forcing them away, she straightened her spine and squeezed Hodges’ arm.  “I
know that my father trusted you,” she said softly as she stopped walking and
looked up at the man before her.  She had known Hodges her whole life.  “Please
help me choose wisely.  Our clan depends upon my choice,” she whispered,
suddenly feeling the full weight of her burden bear down upon her.
    “Aye,
lass.  We shall do this together,” he said as he leaned down and placed a
chaste kiss upon Isobel’s forehead.  “I loved your father as a brother and I
shall see to it that a good match for you is made.  And if by chance we choose
wrong, or if the wrong man claims victory in the tournament, I’ll use my dying
breath tae insure that no harm comes tae ye, lass,” Hodges vowed, his eyebrows
arched in a somewhat sinister manner.  “I’ll kill the bastard if he does ye
wrong.  Just as yer father would have done were he here.”
    Isobel’s
heart beat faster as she