“That’s two conditions, but–done,” Dan agreed with a hearty laugh. “Gotta get to wardrobe but I’ll stop by her tent on the way back to ask her, okay? Maybe she won’t refuse a request from her king.”
Ian grinned. “Brilliant,” he said, replacing the phone on its cradle. Taking his wine back to his studio, he grabbed his cell phone from the workbench and sent Lily a short, cryptic text.
please tell him yes
Humming to himself, he picked up his paintbrush and returned to his canvas.
* * * *
What did Ian’s text mean? Lily mused. Before she could deliberate further there was a commotion outside the tent, and the crowd parted to let the king and his royal guards through. Beth, Esmeralda, and Lily dropped into deep curtseys. “Good evening, your majesty,” they said in unison.
A more youthful and less portly version of Henry VIII, Dan graciously bade them rise then addressed Lily. “We would speak privately with you, mistress.” Leaning close, he whispered, “I have a favor to ask. We do a street performance a couple of times a week, and one of my cast members has called off for tomorrow night. Would you mind filling in? There aren’t any lines or anything.”
“What kind of performance?” Lily asked.
“For this, you would be a lady of the court, so you’ll need a different outfit and you won’t need the wig. You walk with a suitor through the market. Another noble comes up and challenges him to a duel for your hand. I show up and bring them to the list field where they fight it out for your honor.”
“They joust?” Lily exclaimed.
“No,” Dan said, laughing, “they fence. You’ll have a scarf to give your suitor as a favor, and then you are escorted to sit by the queen on stage. The two men fight, the winner comes to claim you and kisses your hand as his reward. Then you get escorted off stage. That’s all there is to it.”
Lily began to protest, not wanting to be the center of so much attention but then remembered Ian’s cryptic message. Could this be what he meant? “Yes,” she agreed at once. “I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful,” exclaimed Dan. “Swing by wardrobe tomorrow around seven. They’ll know the dress you need.” He spent the next few minutes explaining the order of events, then turned and with a wave worthy of a monarch, made a grand exit to the delight of the crowd. After he and his entourage left the tent, Lily pulled out her cell phone and sent a response to Ian.
I said yes.
His reply was immediate.
thank you
7
The following evening after changing into her ladies gown, Lily returned to the gypsy tents and was greeting by an open-mouthed Beth. “Blimey, yer bleedin’ gorgeous, luvvy,” she said, affecting an outrageous Cockney accent.
Lily laughed gaily, spinning around to admire her outfit, a gold and rose satin Anne Boleyn replica gown. Dan had instructed her to wait at the gypsy tent. The suitor would be by precisely at seven forty-five and they both would arrive at the center of the market by eight, when the show was scheduled to start.
She was nervous, but all thoughts of her debut flew away when Ian strode into the tent dressed in a crimson and brocade doublet, a white cuffed shirt unlaced at the throat, tight brown breeches, a long cape and tall boots. Tonight, he had the added accessories of a lethal-looking sword, its scabbard hanging from a doubled leather belt wrapped low around his hips. His gaze swept over her from head to toe, lingering for the briefest moment on the flattering decolletage.
“You are wondrous fair, my beauty,” he murmured, pressing her fingertips to his lips. He offered his arm. “Wouldst my lady care for a turn about the market?”
“You’re my ardent suitor?” she exclaimed, dramatically placing both hands over her palpitating heart.
“Of course I am,” he said with a laugh. “Were you expecting someone else?” He glanced around the tent at the other tarot readers and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I’d say no, if I were you. If it got out you were surprised it wouldn’t be very good for business, would it?”
Lily smiled up at him and accepted his arm. “I don’t think I know quite what to expect with you,” she teased.
After leaving the tent, they meandered down the street toward the market. Night had fallen, bringing with it a cooling breeze that swept through the park and she couldn’t help but be charmed by the magic and romance of it all. “Do you know how to use that thing?” she asked, indicating the sword.
“Well enough for this,” Ian said. “My dear brother-in-law, yonder monarch, took fencing lessons as a teenager. He taught me so I could help him practice, but when I got better at it than him, he quit.” He laughed then added dryly, “The Irish aren’t very big on fencing. That would be the French.”
“Um…go Irish?” Lily giggled before regaining her straight face.
Ian smiled mysteriously. “I haven’t the least intention of losing, milady.”
They strolled along, stopping at booths here and there, and Lily found it easy to pretend they truly were sworn lovers. Ian’s hand covered hers, tucked away in the crook of his arm, and she didn’t think she imagined the incidental caresses of his long fingers on hers. The park patrons began to follow behind them, anticipating the event to come.
When they arrived at the market clearing, Ian whispered “Here we go,” as the blond man Lily had seen Ian talking to before approached them.
The handsome man’s tousled curls brushed the collar of his royal blue and white doublet embroidered with red fleur de lis. He struck a courtly pose, bowing low before her. “Pardonnez-moi, demoiselle.” His voice rang out in a distinct French accent. “I wonder if you would care to enjoy a moonlit stroll through the gardens with me. The flowers, sadly, have all forgotten how to be lovely and surely your great beauty would inspire them to remember, ma chere.” Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, he gave her a rakish grin.
Ian rolled his eyes heavenward at the outrageous flattery then directed a fierce scowl at his adversary. “The lady has an escort, Sir Renaud, and does not welcome your attentions.”
Renaud stepped forward to reach for Lily’s arm, but Ian stepped in between them, his eyes narrowing to slits. “I say again, sir, the lady does not welcome your attentions. Nor do I.”
A ripple of excitement swept through the crowd when Renaud stepped back, whipped out a pair of leather gloves and threw them with a flourish at Ian’s feet. “I challenge you for the lady’s honor,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.
Ian scooped up the gloves and flung them back, hitting Renaud squarely in the chest. “I accept your challenge, sirrah.”
Both men moved to draw their swords. Immediately, trumpets sounded and the crowd parted to let the king and his court through. The two men sank to one knee, and following their lead, Lily dropped into a deep curtsey.
Dan had no trouble making himself heard over the crowd. He boomed in his deep baritone voice, “What’s this? A duel over a woman? We cannot have our gallant nobles fighting in the streets like common ruffians. To the tournament field!”
With a loud “Huzzah!” everyone moved toward the center of the park to fill the waiting bleachers of the large jousting field. Ian guided Lily to the elaborate viewing stage where the thrones were displayed. “You’re doing great,” he whispered against her ear, his warm breath making her tingle all over. The king climbed the steps to join Queen Meghan, clad in her elaborate Catherine Parr gown. With a practiced snap of her jeweled fan, she motioned for Lily to take the seat of honor next to her.
The field was cleared of everyone except Ian and Renaud. Ian stepped forward and