Believe (15 page)

She pulled her gaze from him to the cabbage on the ground. It was an awfully small cabbage. She swallowed hard. What happened to the fearlessness she’d known just a few minutes ago? Probably hiding under a bed somewhere. Exactly where she should be.

“Let me get this straight. I’m supposed to stand in front of this tree.” She smacked the bark. “This little, tiny tree.”

“’Tis a young oak.” His gaze traveled upward toward the top of the tree with a mild affection. “When
I was but a lad, it served my friends and myself well for sharpening our skills. We thought it grew here for us alone.”

“It’s not much of a target. You can practically put your hands around it.”

“Aye. ’Tis a challenge.”

“So, I’m supposed to stand here, next to your challenging target, holding a pathetic excuse for a vegetable in my hand, waiting for you to shoot an arrow at me?”

“’Twill not be shot at you.” He scoffed. “’Twill be shot at the cabbage.”

“The cabbage in my hand.”

“The very one.”

“I think we need to talk about this.”

“’Tis little left to say. You asked to be tested, a test of my choosing. Furthermore, within the hour, you insisted ’twould be a question of honor for you to carry out your end of the bargain.” A smug smile played across his lips. “I cannot have forgotten such a thing. Do you now regret your words?”

“Regret my words?” she repeated slowly. “No, not exactly. But have you ever done this before?”

He laughed. “As boys, ’twas a favorite game of skill and nerve.”

“What about lately?”

He snorted in disdain. “’Tis a sport for children, Tessa.”

“Just out of idle curiosity, how many people are wandering around Camelot with only one hand?”

He stared at her for a moment then grinned. “You’ve a clever way with you, my lady. None have ever lost a hand here,” he bent toward her, a wicked
light in his eye, “but many have sacrificed a finger or two.”

“Swell.” There really wasn’t any choice. Either she could renege and have him treat her like a second-class citizen for their entire time together or she could grit her teeth, pray hard and hold the cabbage.

“Well?”

She stared into his endless blue eyes, ignoring the laughter lingering there. Damn, she really did have faith in him. She really did trust him.

“Let’s do it,” she said faintly.

His grin widened, he grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. “’Twould be a pity to lose even one finger so lovely as these.” He nodded, turned and strode off, glancing over his shoulder. “Trust, Tessa, ’tis all that’s needed.”

“Right. Hey!” Tessa called to his retreating back. “Are you any good at this?”

He laughed as if the question was too ridiculous to answer. “I am a knight of the realm.”

“That makes me feel a lot better! Have you ever hit anyone in this game?”

“None that did not move.”

“Great.” She bent down and scooped up the cabbage. If possible, it seemed even smaller than before. She glanced at Galahad. He was getting pretty far away. Surely, he couldn’t possibly plan on shooting from such a long distance away?

Apparently he could. Finally, he stopped, turned toward her and loaded an arrow.

She breathed deeply, set the cabbage flat on her palm and held her hand against the tree. Was that the tree moving or was she shaking? Had she ever been
this scared? It was the medieval version of chicken. If she so much as flinched she’d be coleslaw. Still, even if she lost a finger or two, she’d still have nine others. Or eight.

He raised the bow and took aim. Her heart hammered against her chest. If she was really brave she’d watch the arrow come toward her. Who was she trying to kid? She squeezed her eyes shut tight and prayed.
Dear God, if you get me out of this I’ll go to church every Sunday from now on.
Why not? Her credit was probably thin but not gone. This was a deal she’d made before, usually on the top of a roller coaster.
This time I really mean it.

A
twang
sounded in the distance.
Help!
The arrow thudded into the oak. The tree shook. She snapped open her eyes and jerked away her hand.

The cabbage, the very small cabbage, was skewered to the tree. Tessa stared and pulled great gulps of air. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Galahad start toward her but she couldn’t wrench her gaze away from the impaled cabbage. The arrow quivered, centered almost perfectly in the vegetable. Her knees buckled and she sank to the ground. Courage sure took a lot out of you. Galahad was good. Very good. Obviously, there was never any real danger for her as long as she kept her hand still. As long as she had enough courage to trust him. And faith. Still, he had scared the hell out of her.

“Tessa!” He knelt at her side, his anxious gaze searched her face. “Are you unharmed? When you collapsed, I feared—” He glanced up at the cabbage. “But I did not hit you.”

“No, you got the cabbage. Perfectly, in fact.” She
brushed her hair away from her face with a shaky hand. “Why didn’t you tell me how good a shot you were?”

“I said I was a knight. Besides, did it not take greater courage to face someone whose skill was unknown? Did it not require a greater level of trust?” He got to his feet and extended his hand.

“Not to mention fear,” she said under her breath and grabbed his hand. “Trust is important, isn’t it?” He helped her to her feet.

“Indeed. You place your trust in me and, in return, I trust in your courage.” Galahad grasped the arrow and jerked it out of the tree. The cabbage fell in two pieces to the ground.

“It goes both ways then?”

“Most certainly.”

“In that case…” She picked up his bow and plucked the string. Could he take it as well as he could dish it out? “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” Confusion washed across his face.

“It’s your turn to…um…hold the cabbage.”

“I think not.” Indignation sounded in his voice.

“Why not?”

“I have no knowledge of your skill.”

“I didn’t know how good you were when I did it.”

“But I am a knight.”

“And I had Sister Abigail. Trust, Big Guy, remember. You said it yourself—I barely know you. That ‘I’m a knight’ line might be self-explanatory here but where I’m from it doesn’t mean a whole lot. You did nothing to ease my fears. Blind trust, faith—that’s what you asked for from me.” She bent down and picked up the smaller of the cabbage halves. “Now, it’s my turn to ask it from you.”

“’Twas not I who asked for a test. I have no need to prove my worthiness.” He folded his arms over his chest and glared. “I am a knight.”

“You can say it all you want, but let me tell you a couple of things.” She leaned the bow against the tree and carefully selected an arrow, mimicking his earlier actions. She bit back a smile. The man was definitely nervous. “I’ve been a Girl Scout, I am a member of several scholastic fraternities, hold a VISA gold card and I’m a natural blonde. None of that gives you the tiniest clue about my ability to handle this thing.” She tapped the arrowhead on his chest. “If we’re going to work together, shouldn’t I have as much confidence in you as you have in me?”

“But I am a man!”

“Sorry.” She shook her head. “That’s not a ringing endorsement either.”

“None has ever dared question my courage—”

“I’m not questioning your courage. I’m simply asking for you to have as much trust in me as you expected me to have in you. How did you put it?” She smiled innocently. “Oh yeah, it takes a greater level of trust to face someone whose skills are unknown.”

His brow furrowed in frustration. “Since you throw my own words in my face it seems I have no choice. I will submit to this.”

“I thought you would.” She handed him the cabbage half then paused. “However, big, brave knight that you are, I think it’s only right to make this a bit more of a challenge.”

“’Tis enough of a challenge for me,” he growled.

“But not for me.” Tessa plucked the cabbage from
his hand. “This is the William Tell test,” stretched up on tiptoe and placed it on the top of his head.

“God’s breath, woman.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her tight against him, the cabbage tumbling to the ground. “Only a fool would allow even the most skilled archer to attempt such a target.”

“It’s only fair. You chose my test. Now I pick yours.”

“I do not—”

“Trust, Galahad.” She raised a brow. “I’m only asking for you to trust me the same way you asked me to trust you.”

“Trust that I will lose my head?” He glared, his nose inches from her own.

“No. Trust that you can count on me to keep you from losing your head.”

“That you cannot do.” His voice was intense. “I have lost my head already.” His eyes darkened. “And perhaps my heart.”

Her breath caught. “Have you?”

“Aye.” His gaze bored into hers. Time slowed and stopped. Did she feel the beat of his heart against her chest or was it the hammering of her own heart? Did his body strain toward hers with a yearning so strong it couldn’t be denied or was it her own body that ached for his touch? Did a sense of wonder at the depth of feelings still unspoken shine in his eyes or was it just the reflection of her own emotions?

Abruptly, he released her hand and she stumbled backward. Disappointment stabbed through her, a counterpoint to the weakness in her knees and the trembling of her hands.

“Very well. Get on with it then.” He stooped quickly
and grabbed the scraggly remains of the cabbage, slapping it on the top of his head and clasping his hands behind his back, the cool tenor of his voice in startling contrast to the comical nature of his appearance. “I feel like a fool.”

“You look kind of cute.” She stifled a giggle. “Cabbage is your color.”

Disgust and annoyance battled on his face.

“Whoops. Sorry. No sense of humor in the Middle Ages, I guess.” She picked up the bow and turned. Then without thinking she swiveled, stretched and planted a firm kiss hard on his lips, stepping back before he could react. “I’d hate for you to lose your head almost as much as you would.” She pivoted and started off.

“I am much relived, my lady.” Sarcasm rang in his voice. “’Twould be a great comfort in the moments to come were it not for the shaking of your hands.”

“Trust me, Galahad,” she called over her shoulder.

She could hear him muttering behind her and she laughed. He was probably berating himself for getting in the position of being at the mercy of a mere woman. Galahad would never have considered the idea that she would need to trust him as much as he would need to trust her. Sure. The man knew his own limits when it came to bravery or skill but hadn’t the vaguest idea what her abilities were. Besides, she was a woman and in his world that didn’t count for much. Time that somebody was taught a little lesson.

She stepped off what seemed like a good distance and turned back toward him. It was hard to read his expression from here but it looked relatively unchanged. Still, wasn’t the line of his body a bit more rigid
than before? Tension would do that to a man. Even a knight.

She waved in a carefree manner then directed her attention toward the bow and arrow. How much more nervous would he be if he knew her archery experience was limited to a six-week unit in gym in her senior year in high school? Or was it her junior year? Even so, this was not an especially tricky weapon. The bow wasn’t much longer than the ones she’d used in school, another clue to the date if she knew when the longbow was developed. Which she didn’t.

She notched the feathered end of the arrow in the string of the bow, brought the bow into position and sighted along the length of the arrow to the target. Galahad stood unflinching. He was willing to trust her even though she’d given him no real reason to. He was willing to submit to the same test he’d put her through even though he had no idea if she’d ever shot an arrow before in her life. And he was willing to look ridiculous wearing a cabbage, all for a point of honor. What a guy.

She blew a long breath, pulled back the arrow, shifted, aimed at a forty-five degree angle away from him and let it fly.

The
twang
reverberated through the early-morning air. The arrow sailed in a wobbly arc, missing the tree by a good twenty feet. Thank God. She blew a long sigh of relief. Even deliberately aiming away from him she couldn’t be absolutely certain, by some freak of nature, she wouldn’t hit him. The only thing she’d been worse at than archery was soccer. And she was terrible at soccer.

She grinned and started walking back to the tree.
Galahad swept the cabbage away, shook the last clinging bits out of his hair and started toward her, one of his long strides equaling three of hers. Her grin faded. His expression was not that of a man who’d successfully passed a test. Her step slowed. No, it was more like a man who’d been conned. Or screwed.

Tough. Didn’t he do exactly the same thing to her? She raised her chin and marched toward him, stopping with less than a foot between them.

“You have no skill with a bow, do you?” Irritation underlaid his words.

“Nope.”

“This was a trick then.”

“Not at all.” She couldn’t suppress a smug smile. “This was a test. You know, for trust, faith, courage and all those noble qualities.”

“You did not intend to shoot the cabbage.”

“Duh. Let me tell you, there was no way I could hit that cabbage, or for that matter that tree, with an arrow.” She shook her head. “I stink at archery.”

“Yet you allowed me to stand there, with a cabbage upon my head, believing you would indeed attempt to skewer it.” His words were measured.

“You got it.” She studied him for a moment. He appeared completely under control. What was he thinking? “It was something Sister Abigail taught. If you weren’t the best player physically, then you’d better be the smartest.”

“You are a riddle, my lady,” he said thoughtfully. “In truth, Tessa St James, who are you? Where do you come from?”

Was it time to tell him?

“I told you, my land—”

He brushed away her words with an impatient dash of his hand. “I know there is something of magic about you. Yet Merlin stands by your side so I know you are no witch.”