The Bride Tournament by Ruth Kaufman Page A

metals, for she’d not be wed to him for long.
    “I’d leave you to your peace and seek mine elsewhere, but I must lock the door,” Eleanor said.
    “So your father won’t know you were here? I’ll do it. Give me the key.”
    Richard did want something. If she gave him the key, he might press it in wax to fashion his own for later use.
    He stood, then leaned back against the wall and crossed one leg over the other, but she sensed tension beneath his nonchalance as he held out his hand.
    As far as she could tell, everything of value lurked behind the stones. Clever though Richard was, she doubted even he’d find the hiding place. Unless he’d seen her pull on the stone.
    Did he approve of the quest, or was he just following orders? She dared not ask. Like as not he wouldn’t answer, for there was no trust between them. Nor did she want to reveal her own hand. In any case, his goal was pursuit of the transmutation formula.
    “A good chatelaine keeps her keys close,” she said, indicating the chain dangling from her waist.
    In an instant he was off the bench and had her pressed to the wall. “Was that an invitation for me to try to take them from you?”
    “No.” She couldn’t get out another word with his hard body against hers.
    Sliding slowly down her arm, his hand left a tingling path. His fingers closed around her wrist, his mouth inches from hers. She tightened her grip on the keys as he moved his fingers in a gentle circle over her shoulders, again and again, stroking her, lulling her.
    Slowly, he lowered his head to kiss her. She was appalled to find she wanted him to. Eleanor broke away before he could wreak more havoc on her senses, the wool of her gown sticking briefly to the stone wall.
    “You’ve already proved you’re stronger than I. But you won’t control me, I’ll see to that.” She marched to the door and swung it open, exasperated by her response to him and her failure to destroy her father’s notes. “If you want me to be ready to travel this morning, we’d best prepare.”
    “’Tis obvious you’re trying to get me away from this cottage. It suits my purpose to go with you. Never fear, I’ll find out what’s in this place and what it really means to you.”
    She’d alerted Richard’s suspicions, as he’d alerted hers. There was no way she’d escape his vigilance to return to the cottage before they left for court.
    But then, he’d not escape hers either.

    ’Twas two days into their journey to Windsor. The horses plodded along the road, keeping pace with carts laden with bedding, clothing and supplies. At this rate, combined with frequent stops, the trip from Northumberland to Berkshire would take weeks instead of days. Though she chafed at the delay and was unaccustomed to long hours in the saddle, Eleanor couldn’t help but appreciate the respite from her worries.
    She wouldn’t let her father’s watchful, disapproving eye affect her, and did her best to avoid and ignore him. There was nothing left to say.
    Thank goodness she and Richard were rarely alone. Due to the scarcity of rooms at inns along their route, she shared with her maid Mary and Alyce, while Richard stayed with his squire, Reginald.
    That didn’t stop Richard from finding dozens of ways to torment her. Like when he’d hold her hand—so she didn’t trip on rough ground. But his warmth and strength made her less steady than she was on her own.
    He was proving to be the most eminently attractive yet disconcerting man she’d ever met. As he rode beside her, more than once her gaze strayed to his mouth, remembering his kisses and wishing he would try to kiss her again. Wishing….
    She held her head high, as if enjoying the afternoon sun’s warmth and the lovely setting. In the space of a week she’d been wed to a man not of her choosing and wrenched from the comforting safety of what she’d once called home. Home, where she’d been queen of her domain and few dared say nay to her. Now she was under