Joust of Hearts Read Online Free Page A

way back to their dressing tents, all the while teasing the others about the fair maiden and who could win her.
    Devin moved to a place where he could get a closer look at the young lady. It was times such as this that he was glad to be a head taller than most of the men. A slight breeze blew a few strands of hair across his eyes. He smoothed the hair away from his face and swept his hand over his whiskers, scratching as he went.
    He focused in on the visage that belonged to the melodious voice and held his breath in order to still the mesh-against-metal noise his chain mail made when it rubbed against his tassets. It was certainly not because he found her to be most comely, although the rapidly growing bulge against the protective padding behind his codpiece begged to differ.
    Her voice, though loud enough to be heard by everyone, was like a caress to him. She seemed to look right through him as well as her entire audience. Her eyes were a silvery-gray, an exact likeness of the color of her attire. His gaze refused to falter from where it had landed, and all surrounding her lovely face faded to black, as if she were at the opposite end of a long tunnel. He felt suddenly warm as he stood motionless, watching, listening.
    God’s teeth, you’re not some green lad , he chided himself. He’d flirted with and bedded many a fine-looking maiden, why did his body react to the storyteller thus? He found himself randy as a spring morning. One side of his mouth curled up in a grin. He could have her if he wanted. This one was a mere performer, she must be used to such amusements… But he’d have to find out for sure before he began his pursuit. He thought to ask his squire to find out if this goddess would be at the banquet this eve.
    The applause and shouts of the crowd woke him from his thoughts. The young lady’s face flushed with a reddish glow and she curtsied in appreciation of their approval and attentiveness.
    It was her blush that made his heart skip a beat. It was genuine, not feigned or painted on like those of the women at court.
    He had only been to court once, which was quite enough for him, he had admitted on several occasions. The smiles and eyelash fluttering of those women were as stale as yesterday’s loaf. He’d ridden half of them anyway, and what good was it? The married ones had willingly spread their legs for him, but it was as if they had all received the same instruction on bedding. There was no creativity in their chambers. He would just as soon apply needle to thread as go back to those boring women.
    He redirected his focus to his next conquest. Fie, but she looks as soft as a feather mattress covered in silk . If angels looked as if they were female, this girl just might be one.
    “Sir Devin! Sir Devin, I must make thee readied! The joust is first! Did you not hear me when I called out?”
    Devin dragged his attention from the Bergavnys’ pavilion. Parker had made it clear time and again that he was more than thrilled to have been Sir Devin Blackburn’s squire for over three years now. He was ten and four—almost five, he had warned many a man who dared to comment on his age of late—and he wished to be a duplicate of his lord. Parker was getting taller by the day and had a fair amount of muscle already developing on his young body, owing to all the jobs Devin would find for him to do around Willowbrook. His brown hair was left just long enough to reach his jaw line, and most of the time was kept tucked behind his ears.
    “Aye. Excited are you, Parker?” Devin enquired, knowing full well that Parker lived for the games.
    “For certain, it has been too long. Come, we must return so I may get thee armed.”
    At the armory tent, Parker adjusted the chain-mail tunic so that it sat properly laid over the padded doublet, then tied Devin’s vambraces onto each arm.
    Devin stepped away, took a few strides forward then returned to Parker’s side.
    “Is the fit well?”
    “As I said before, if I