The blow only seemed to galvanize him, making him stronger and more determined. When Fergal MacKinnon, a great beast of a man, managed to get a solid blow into his left side, Mary held her breath along with the rest of the crowd as they waited to see whether he would fall. Only his final two opponents gave him much of a contest. He wielded the weapon as if it were a child’s toy, making his opponents look like, well, children. The two combatants squared off in the makeshift arena, exchanging blow after blow of the bone-crushing hammer until one man was knocked to the ground. Nevertheless, she found herself applauding along with the rest when he managed a particularly quick or otherwise impressive victory. He seemed to thrive on the cheers as one by one he defeated every man who took the field against him. Had she not been so young and filled with unrealistic dreams, perhaps it would have turned out differently.įrom the way Kenneth Sutherland incited the crowd, she suspected he was cut from a similar cloth as Atholl’s. It had been foolish to pin dreams on him that he could never hope to fulfill. She’d learned there were no such things as heroes, only men. She’d idolized him, placing him on such a high pedestal that the only place he could go was down. It had partially been her fault, she knew. It had taken her years of disappointment, jealousy, and heartbreak, however, to understand it. There were some men that craved-nay, thrived on-the admiration of many. But one woman would never be enough for a man like him. His occasional bedmate, when he was reminded of his duty. The harder she tried to hold on to him, the more he distanced himself from her.
But her attempts only seemed to make it worse. She’d thought that if she could make him fall in love with her, he would forget about the other women. Yet even after that horrible conversation, she had refused to accept the truth. Instead, he’d been angry at her for interfering in matters that did not concern her.
When she’d tearfully confronted him, he hadn’t bothered to deny it. Indeed, if the conversation she’d overheard the following morning was accurate, he’d found many to choose from. Her husband did not come to her bed because he’d found another. A few nights later she’d learned the truth.
The gesture had been for them, not for her. Atholl always knew how to play to the crowd. She’d thought her heart would burst with pride and happiness.īut the faerie tale hadn’t lasted long. The crowd had gone wild at the romantic gesture. She’d never forget when he’d won the spear event and he’d turned and bowed to her in the stands. At first it had felt like a faerie tale, with him cast as the handsome knight in shining armor and her as the pretty maiden for whose favor he fought.
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