Champion of the Heart

by Laurel O'Donnell

  They never came. They tied a rope around Beau’s wrists and Evan held it as he mounted his horse. Beau walked behind the horse as the squadron began to move up the hill. Fox knew they were going to take him to Castle Vaughn. He would have to get to the others quickly. He didn’t know how long they would let Beau live if they discovered he was one of Fox’s men.

  Maybe they already know, a voice inside him warned. Fox’s insides trembled. He had to get Beau free as soon as possible.

  The woman looked away from his direction and quickly moved to Evan’s side, grabbing at the reins of his horse, pulling the animal in a different direction. She pointed to her left, motioning with great insistence that Evan follow her. Evan appeared to argue with her for a moment, then threw up his hands in defeat. He turned his horse and headed in the direction the woman had pointed.

  Toward Castle Ruvane.

  Fox’s breath tightened in his chest. Where were they taking Beau now? And then realization engulfed him in a chilling blast of insight. He knew who the woman was. He knew why there had been an instant fascination with her. He found himself staring with very mixed emotions at Jordan Ruvane.

  ***

  Evan fumed from atop his horse. “I can’t believe the Black Fox wasn’t there himself! I won’t believe he only sent one of his men!”

  Jordan wasn’t listening to Evan’s tirade. Fox had to have been there somewhere. But why hadn’t he shown himself? Did his men mean nothing to him? Had he somehow suspected a trap?

  Jordan glanced down at her hand, realizing she was playing with her necklace. It was a nervous habit she seemed to have acquired over the years. She looked down at the necklace. It was a gift of ornate silver and rubies from Evan.

  They were on the road to Castle Ruvane, leading their one prisoner back to her home. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the man. His blond hair lifted in the breeze, but his eyes remained downcast.

  Jordan reined in her horse and let the squadron of soldiers move past her until the prisoner was beside her. “He was there, wasn’t he?” she asked him.

  The only movement on his face was a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  “How could he leave a friend to be taken?” she wondered aloud, trying to goad him into some sort of response. “What kind of friend is that?”

  “A better one you’ll never find, lady,” the man retorted, a strange smile twisting his lips.

  Jordan locked gazes with the man for a long moment. She was certain Fox had been there. Positive. He must have detected their trap.

  Evan rode over to her. “Jordan,” he chastised, “you shouldn’t speak to such a man. It’s below you.”

  Jordan cast a glance at the blond prisoner. At least they could question him and find out where Fox’s stronghold was. At least one of Fox’s men had been captured. The Black Fox would be next.

  Chapter Six

  “Show us, Lady Jordan,” John begged. He swiped a strand of his dark hair away from his eyes. “Please, you promised.”

  Jordan smiled at John, nodding her head softly. “I will.” She glanced over at Jason. “But Jason has to eat all of his carrots first.”

  Kara groaned. “Oh, no, we’ll be here forever and a day.” The other children moaned right along with her.

  Jason looked up at everyone and grinned, then proceeded to stuff five of the smallest carrots into his mouth, chewing loudly. He looked over to Jordan. “Done,” he said around a mouthful of the orange vegetables.

  Jordan smiled at him. Jason was a notoriously finicky eater, most often barely taking more than two bites of food at a meal. Jordan sometimes couldn’t help but wonder how he kept up his energy with his eating habits.

  They had come to a clearing near the cottage for a picnic, something they tried to do at least once a week. Jordan looked at the empty spot on the blanket, the untouched food on the nearby plate. Kara had insisted Jordan set a place for Maggie, though John had tried to explain to them that Maggie was never coming back. “But she’ll always be here in our hearts. Right, Lady Jordan?” Ana asked, touching her chest.

  Jordan missed Maggie terribly. All of the children missed her, too, but none as much as Ana. They had been great friends, Ana always watching over Maggie like a mother hen, never squabbling. Their favorite game had been sisters. They would dress up in old remnants that Jordan had brought for them from the castle and pretend they were sisters, doing the gardening and washing the dishes together. It made their chores more fun.

  But now Ana wouldn’t touch the dress-up clothes. She wouldn’t even look at them.

  Emily squirmed in Jordan’s lap, and she looked down at the girl. She was chewing on some lavender. Jordan gently took it from the girl. When she screamed in protest, Jordan handed her a carrot instead. The child munched happily on the root.

  Emily was certainly growing. Jordan remembered the first time John had brought her to the house. He said her parents had been killed by outlaws. He had found her on the road near their bodies, sitting in the mud, just crying and crying. She had been terribly skinny, dirty, and pale, and it looked as if one of the outlaws had hit her on the cheek and bruised her face. Jordan remembered the outrage she felt when she first saw her. That had been over a year ago. Now, at the age of two, Emily was bright-eyed and beautiful, even a bit on the plump side. Content was a word that came to Jordan’s mind. Little Emily seemed very content. She stared at Jordan with large brown eyes and unabashed love.

  “All right,” John said. “Jason’s finished.”

  Jordan turned to the older boy. “Yes, he is,” Jordan agreed. “Good boy.” She rubbed his stomach. “It might actually be full in there today.”

  Jason grinned.

  Jordan set Emily on the blanket and rose to her feet, glancing around the clearing.

  “Over there,” John said, pointing to a large tree nearby. “See that big green patch of moss? Can you hit that?”

  Jordan followed his gaze to the tree, seeing the green smattering of growth John was referring to. The tree was about fifty feet away, the patch of moss about two feet wide. It would be difficult to hit, but she thought she could do it. She nodded to the gathered children. Then she hiked up her skirt so it came to above her knees.

  Kara giggled.

  “Remember what I told you, Kara. This isn’t appropriate behavior for a lady, and I would never do it before adults. And I don’t want you to try this until you’ve been practicing for two years.”

  “I remember,” Kara said earnestly.

  Jordan locked gazes with the other children. “That goes for all of you, too.”

  They all promised.

  “It took me a long time to learn to do this,” Jordan told them. She lifted her skirt higher and removed a dagger from a hidden sheath strapped to her thigh. She stared at it for a long moment. Its black handle was in sharp contrast to the polished silver blade. She took care every night to polish the blade and sharpen it. She had never used it on a person, but she felt more secure that it was there. It gave her confidence and made her feel safe, especially on those late nights when she came to visit the children. The roads were often very dark and ominous and she occasionally traveled them alone, despite everyone warning her not to.

  She lifted her gaze to see the bright eyes of the children shining expectantly at her. John gazed at her with rapt anticipation.

  Jordan cast a glance across the clearing at the old tree. In one quick move, she pulled the skirts of her dress up between her legs and kicked herself over onto her hand, cartwheeling in the direction of the tree. As her body came round, she flung the dagger at the tree and cleanly caught herself with the other hand, then continued to cartwheel and land squarely back on her feet. The movement was very fluid, very precise, very difficult to do. But Jordan had been practicing it nearly every day for years and it had come to be second nature to her now.

  Jordan knew by the gasps and exclamations from the children she had hit the target square in the center... as she had the last time she had shown them the mo
ve. And the time before that. She never missed a target the children gave her. Not anymore. She didn’t want them to be disappointed in her.

  Jordan adjusted her skirt. Kara threw her arms around her legs and beamed a radiant smile up at her. “You’re the greatest, Lady Jordan!”

  Jordan scooped Kara up and brushed a kiss against the girl’s cheek. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Kara giggled and Jordan set her back on the ground.

  Ana stood and walked toward the tree where Jordan’s dagger was lodged firmly in the thick bark. Jordan followed her to pry the blade free. She flipped it over in her hands.

  Ana lifted her blue eyes to Jordan. Jordan could see the sadness in her gentle face. “Who will teach us when you are gone?” the little girl wondered.

  “Gone?” Jordan echoed, confused. “I’m not leaving, Ana.”

  Ana scowled and looked away. “The tournament is tomorrow, is it not?”

  And then Jordan understood the source of Ana’s sadness. Her heart ached for the agony the girl must be experiencing. To be abandoned by her mother and father and then to think she was losing the only person who had been a constant in her life since then would be very painful. Jordan knelt in the grass and took one of Ana’s hands into hers. “Ana, look at me,” Jordan whispered. When the girl lifted those crystal blue eyes to her, Jordan wanted to cry for the worry so clearly evident in her expression. “I will never leave you.”

  Ana looked away again. “But the tournament... you are to be wed to the victor.”

  “That’s right, yes,” Jordan said. “And who is the bravest knight in all the lands?”

  “Sir Evan,” Ana grumbled.

  “And who is the strongest knight in all the lands?”

  “Sir Evan,” Ana mumbled.

  “Then who will win the tournament?”

  A begrudging grin stretched Ana’s lips. “Sir Evan.”

  “And where are Sir Evan’s lands?”

  “They border the Ruvane lands,” Ana said in a monotone voice, as if she had been told this over and over again. And she had.

  Jordan pulled Ana into her hold, wrapping the girl in a tight embrace. “I will never leave you, Ana,” Jordan whispered. “Ever.”

  Ana lifted her stare to meet Jordan’s. “Swear?”

  Jordan nodded earnestly.

  Ana held out the smallest finger on her hand. “Pinkie swear?”

  Jordan smiled a big smile. She wrapped her smallest finger around Ana’s. “Pinkie swear.” She squeezed Ana tightly. “It will take more than a marriage to keep me away from you.” As she held Ana, she opened her eyes to see John glancing sideways at Kara. Kara was bowing her head, kicking a spot of weeds with her bare toe.

  “What is it?” Jordan asked.

  “Nothing,” Kara quickly said.

  John bowed his head, refusing to meet her gaze.

  Confusion washed over Jordan. “John?”

  Though he scowled, John would not lift his eyes to her.

  When Jordan moved up to him, his scowl increased, his lips tightening to keep some secret in. Jordan placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can tell me anything.”

  “John,” Ana hissed.

  Jordan turned to Ana. “Tell me.”

  “They said you lied to us about Maggie and now you would lie about leaving us, too,” Jason said.

  John and Ana turned to the young boy. “Jason!” they said in unison.

  Shocked, Jordan glanced at Jason, then Ana, and then John.

  “You did promise nothing would happen to Maggie,” Kara said tentatively. “And now she’s gone.”

  For a moment, Jordan could not move, could not breathe. Their lack of trust hurt her. “I did all I could for Maggie.”

  John looked at Ana.

  Guilt welled up inside Jordan. She had promised. And Maggie was dead. “I’ll never leave you,” Jordan proclaimed. “I’d join a convent before I left you.”

  Kara giggled.

  “You have to believe me,” Jordan said. “I won’t leave you.”

  But when she looked at Ana’s blue eyes, she saw disbelief shining there. Jordan swung her gaze to John. He was looking at her with hope, but she could see the doubt in his gaze. How could they believe her? They were abandoned children, cast away by the very persons they loved most in the world. Why should they believe her?

  Jordan clenched her jaw. She would prove to them she wasn’t going to leave. Determination filled her.

  Emily walked up to Jordan and took her hand, smiling at her.

  “I won’t leave you,” Jordan said with resolve. “Not ever.”

  Chapter Seven

  The sun glimmered brightly in the mid-morning sky. Jordan stood on the platform that overlooked the battlefield, nervously surveying the gathered crowd of armored knights. The day of the tournament had arrived so quickly. It seemed just hours ago she had watched the men shine their armor and polish their blades, and now here she stood before them all as their prize. The spoils of the victor. Several knights had already ridden or walked up to her, expressing their undying love and devotion.

  Jordan scoffed to herself. They didn’t even know her. How could they love her?

  An uneasy feeling churned her emotions, settling in the pit of her stomach. Many of the men were young and impetuous, barely beginning to shave the stubble peppering their jaw, but others had the look of a dangerous savage burning in their dark faces. Jordan scanned the large field, looking for Evan, but she could not find him amidst the glistening, gleaming metal. The yard itself had to be widened to accommodate all the knights who had come to win Jordan’s hand in the tournament. Apprehension grew stronger inside Jordan. How could she even hope Evan could win against all these knights? There must have been fifty visiting warriors, Jordan realized, if not more.

  The platform was packed with other nobles, all anxiously awaiting the start of the tournament. A noblewoman stepped up to Jordan, a woman she didn’t recognize. The woman wore a green dress, heavily embroidered with leaves. “This is so exciting,” the woman said. “All of these men fighting to claim you.” She waved her hand over her face, fanning the heat flushing into her cheeks. “If only I could be so lucky.”

  Lucky? Jordan felt nothing of the kind, only an impending dread. Something horrible was going to happen today. She knew it. She could feel it clawing at her spine.

  The noblewoman next to her waved coyly at several of the knights who looked Jordan’s way. Appalled, Jordan looked at her, catching the woman’s gaze. “Well, they all can’t have you,” the woman explained. “I’d be happy to settle for second place.”

  Jordan turned at the sound of approaching hoof beats, seeing Evan approaching. She had never felt more relieved to see him than she did today. But beneath that relief, uneasiness still stirred inside her. She desperately wanted Evan to win, but her thoughts carried her beyond just today, to the future. To a very uncertain future. Would she be happy with him? In his arms? Would his lips feel right when they pressed up against hers?

  A nervous excitement stirred deep in places that were unfamiliar to her. Would she be making love to this man tomorrow night after his victory, after their wedding celebration? Was it nervous excitement or just plain fear? She didn’t know. The war of emotions was leaving her thoughts foggy and muddled.

  “Greetings, my lady,” Evan said, beaming her a confident smile. “And I do mean my lady, for today I shall be victorious and claim you as my prize.”

  Prize. Is that what I am to all these men? Jordan again wondered. Just a prize. Not a woman, not a companion. A thing to be won. A trophy to hang on the mantel over a burning fireplace. A decoration to show off to one’s fellow warriors.

  “Are you feeling all right, Jordan?” Evan asked, a scowl of concern shadowing his brow.

  “Yes.” Jordan tried to muster a smile, but failed miserably.

  “You seem troubled.”

  “I... I’m just worried, Evan,” Jordan told him. She looked out across the meadow, where knights filled both sides o
f the field. A wide space remained open in the middle where the men were going to fight. One knight on the left side of the meadow was dressed in his ceremonial armor, with fancy etchings on the silver and an elaborate deer-like figure atop his helmet. His white steed pawed the ground in anticipation. Many others mirrored the elaborately adorned knight, all dressed in their best armor.

  But there were others awaiting the tournament as well, others without so much obvious wealth. Some did not even have a horse. One knight was dressed in nothing fancier than brown leather armor, clutching a large ax. There were many more like him, their weapons just as deadly, the lethal intent in their eyes just as sharp and ferocious. And they had all come to win her. To fight, perhaps even to kill, for her.

  The reality of what was happening flooded over her, a wave of dizziness splashing across her. Were all of these men willing to kill to claim her and her dowry? Was she worth dying for?

  “Jordan?”

  She looked at Evan and saw him staring in alarm at her. She tried to force a smile to her lips, but could not summon even the illusion of calmness. “There are so many men, Evan.”

  Evan grinned at her. “Ha. Don’t be afraid, Jordan. I will be victorious today. There are none on this battlefield I fear. Lord Graves is a great warrior, but I have plans for him. I’ll put him into the ground he is so aptly named after.”

  Suddenly, a trumpet sounded and Jordan turned her head to see her father climbing the stairs of the platform, a group of older men trailing behind him. He came to stand beside her, clasped her hand, and squeezed it briefly, smiling warmly at her before releasing her fingers. Then he turned and his gaze swept the field, taking in the assemblage of battle-ready combatants. A grin of satisfaction touched his lips. “Welcome to the tournament!” he called.

  “Huzzah!” the gathered throng of warriors shouted, dozens of glistening weapons thrusting skyward. “Hail to Lord Ruvane!” filled the field. “Hail to Lady Jordan!”