Page 35 of Picking Up the Gauntlet

“Why?”

She realized he was becoming suspicious and she didn’t want him to figure out what she planned to do. “It’s because I know you’ll be gone after the tournament, that’s why.”

“I don’t like this game you’re playing,” he growled.

“Then don’t make the armor, that’s fine with me. I don’t care.” Her eyes darted over to her father and back to him. “I’m sure my father and Rook will understand why you were kissing me, unchaperoned in the forge.”

“That’s not what happened and you know it. And don’t you dare say a word to either of them about it. It won’t bode well for me.”

“Then, you’ll make it?” she asked, raising her chin and looking down her nose at him.

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Not really, but it’ll do. When will you start?”

“I can’t start until I know your measurements. Armor is constructed to fit like a glove on its owner. Each set of armor is different.”

“Oh. All right. So... how do we do that?”

“I’ll need you to come to the smithy after dark. After everyone has gone to sleep for the night.”

“Really?” she asked, feeling her heart speed up. She was excited and a little scared by this request. Still, it did intrigue her. She glanced over the edge of the table and saw Avery and Gerold coming to the meal late. They would both be there at the smithy when she arrived, she realized. Therefore, she wouldn’t have to be alone with Jonathon, so she had nothing to fear. “All right, I’ll do it,” she said, feeling smug but liking the way it felt. She was finally going to have her own armor.

“Excuse me, my lady, but I see my brother is here now and I need to speak with him about the supplies for making our secret little project.” Jonathon left the dais, going down to talk to his brother.

“Raven?” asked Lark, moving over to Jonathon’s vacated seat. “What were ye two whisperin’ about?”

Raven leaned over and whispered back to Lark. “Jonathon’s going to measure me for my armor tonight.”

“What? Really?” Lark’s cheeks became a little rosier. “Do you really think he should do that?”

“He has to, because he needs to know what size to make it.”

“B-but, I mean, do ye think... do ye think that ye should go?”

“If I want armor, I need to be measured for it,” she told her cousin. “After all, I am going to have to joust and win the tournament.” She’d already told Lark all about her plan of competing in the tournament in secret, and winning. “If I don’t win, I’ll end up marrying whichever disgusting man does, no matter how he looks, smells, or how old he might be. Like hell if I’m going to do that!”

She glanced back at Jonathon who was talking to the stablemaster now. It sounded as if the man was asking him to make a set of horseshoes. Even with Jonathon’s hair wet and slicked back, she thought he looked extremely handsome. He was also skilled with a sword, and she liked that about him. He wasn’t a mouse after all, but a man. Too bad he was the wrong man. He reached out to shake the stablemaster’s hand and when he did, she got a good view of his muscular forearms. Damn, he was strong. She could tell it just by the way he’d blocked her blows with the sword, not to mention she’d felt those muscles when he’d carried her through the mud. Jonathon could probably hold a two-handed claymore one-fisted and not get tired fighting an army of Scots.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how it had felt to have his hands around her waist as he’d helped her from her horse. She liked it for some reason, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Raven had also liked the way the man kissed. He had been gentle yet aggressive at the same time, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Just the thought of part of him having entered her, made her squirm.

His lips were strong but soft. He had tasted so... so manly. Just thinking about this made her feel hot down to her inner core. Why was she always attracted to what she shouldn’t be doing or couldn’t have? He was no exception.

Jonathon looked over at her just then and smiled. Straight white teeth and sparkling blue eyes drew her in. He had no right looking so good. After all, he was just a simple commoner. A glorified blacksmith. An armorer.

And probably a terrific lover.

“Nay,” she said aloud, turning and trying to shake the illicit thoughts from her head. Even though she wouldn’t be alone with him tonight, part of her wished she would be. Her curiosity about him was strong. Raven couldn’t stop wondering exactly how this man planned on taking her measurements for her armor. Even though she had no idea how it was done, one thing was for certain. In order to get her measurements, the man was going to have to touch her, and that was something she looked forward to right now, more than anything else.

Chapter 9

“More air,” Jonathon told the boy. “I need more air to fan the flames.”

Gerold pulled the rope to work the bellows, causing the fire of the forge to surge up and become brighter. With his gloved hand, Jonathon held a long pair of tongs. Clasped in the tongs was a metal rod. As soon as the rod was glowing, he moved it over to the anvil, using a hammer to make it square on all four sides, and to shape it into a point at the end.

He cut the end off to make a nail. Then he put the end through a hole in the bench, letting part of it stick out, using the tongs to hold it steady. As he banged the end with a hammer, it flattened out to make the head of the nail. Pulling it out with the tongs, he then dropped it into a barrel with the rest of the nails that he and his brother had made that day.

“Hello? Jonathon?” came a voice from the door. He turned to see Raven peeking inside. It was nighttime and dark. Most everyone had already gone to bed.