others to shoot a third and final time.
“Sir Connor still has a chance,” exclaimed Effie.
Isabelle shook her head. “He still is considerably behind in points. I doubt he can win even with a perfect score.”
There was some conferring on the field between Connor and the judges, and the target was moved back another fifty paces.
Effie smiled. “That should even the odds.”
“I am glad to see you are championing Sir Connor’s cause,” said Isabelle.
Effie frowned. She was hoping for Malcolm to win the tournament and the kiss. Wasn’t she?
This time Malcolm was the first to shoot. He took his time, considering the wind, aiming his shot. He released his arrow and it landed on the target, a good shot. Effie clapped for him. The other two contestants shot. One missed entirely and the other hit the target but was wide. Malcolm started to accept congratulations even as Connor stepped onto the field. It would take a perfect shot to overcome the deficit.
Effie leaned forward and held her breath when Connor went to shoot. His arrow flew true, a perfect score! Effie bounded to her feet and cheered along with the crowd.
Connor turned and caught her eye, giving her a bow. Sir Malcolm also caught her eye, an uncharacteristic frown on his face. She stopped cheering and sat down to compose herself. Malcolm turned to Connor. The two men soberly shook hands as the crowd dispersed to find a quick meal before the next competition—the sword.
Six
“Ye were amazing,” said Effie as the clans walked back out to the field.
“Thank ye,” answered Connor. As her supposed betrothed, their families were spending time together over the midday meal, though her time had been completely taken with female conversation while the men stayed at the other end of the solar and talked about whatever men talk about.
“How do ye like yer chances wi’ the sword?” asked Effie as they emerged from the keep into the bright sunlight of a fresh spring day.
Several rather large Highlanders sauntered by. Connor shook his head. “I prefer a bow, I fear, but I shall try my utmost.”
“Good luck to ye. And careful not to hurt yerself.” She may not wish to wed him, but she certainly didn’t care to see him injured. The others were walking up to the viewing stands and Effie glanced around to see if Malcolm was by any chance in sight.
“Will ye by cheering for me this time I wonder?”
Effie spun to find Malcolm standing behind her. “Sir Malcolm! I wish ye the verra best.”
“Do ye now?” He glanced around and though there were many people around, Effie’s kin had all gone around to the stands and it appeared no one was watching. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the drapes, under the grandstand.
“What do ye think ye are about?” cried Effie.
“Wheesht now! I missed ye last night, and I need a boon to help me win this time.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close.
“I shall scream and they will all come to rescue me!” declared Effie.
“Ye could. Or ye could kiss me instead.” His eyes sparkled and he wrapped his other arm around her and pressed her close to him.
Effie’s senses whirled. He was big and warm, and he smelled entirely of whiskey and man. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes half open. She was intoxicated by his mere touch.
He kissed her, hard, his tongue demanding she open her lips. She did, tentatively, and his tongue thrust inside her mouth. It was invasive and wet, and not at all what she thought her first kiss would be like. She pulled back instinctually.
Malcolm laughed and released her. “Ye’ll get used to it, my pretty maid. First kiss, eh? At least ye started wi’ the best.” He pulled back the drapes and strode out from behind the stands.
Effie took a few deep breaths. Her first kiss. Her first glorious kiss with a man who loved her. She was not entirely certain about the experience, but it was without a doubt her first kiss. She smoothed her skirts,
Reba McEntire, Tom Carter