Champion of the Heart (10 page)

Jordan grimaced and eased the door open. It squeaked on rusted hinges. She bent to retrieve the basin and candle before stepping into the room.

The light from the candle flickered in the large room, casting more light into the dark room as it spread out wider. One room served as the dungeon for all. Several pairs of manacles hung empty on the wall. Dark corners hid a myriad of unseen evils.

As her vision adjusted more to the gloom, Jordan made out a hunched form huddled against the far wall. His knees were raised, his arms resting atop them. His head was down, and his thick black locks cascaded in waves over his arms. He was chained to the wall, the thick metal manacles surrounding his wrists.

Slowly, his head lifted until his blue eyes locked on hers. There was a hard edge to them, a predatory look in them. They narrowed slightly.

Fox, part of her wanted to call out, but she pushed that soft side away and kept silent.

“Come to stare at your rightful future husband?” he wondered.

She opened her mouth to reply, to deny his accusation, but then promptly closed it. That was exactly what she was doing. Staring. But not at a man she would even dare to consider as a future husband. The very thought of Fox trying to claim her as his wife sent an odd flush racing through her veins.

Finally, Jordan shook her head, the strange sensation quickly turning to heated anger. “I’m here to mend your wound.” Jordan moved to Fox’s side, angrily placing the basin and candle at his feet. Some of the water sloshed from the bowl.

“Alone?” Fox asked, genuinely surprised.

Jordan knelt beside him, lifting furious eyes to lock with his. “I don’t need my father to protect me from you.” She dropped one of the cloths into the water.

When she looked up again, she saw he had been stripped of his armor. His wound was bound by a dirty cloth and his shirt had been ripped and hung open to reveal a portion of his chest. A strong chest. She could see the muscles and the ridges of his stomach.

Fox chuckled deeply. “Perhaps you need someone to protect you from yourself.”

Jordan snapped her gaze up to his. His deep blue eyes shone with a dark knowledge, and his lip was quirked to one side. His impudence irritated her. Jordan grimaced and reached for his arm. When her hand closed over his skin, she was surprised at the strength rippling beneath her touch. She couldn’t help but run her hand across his smooth muscle until she touched the sticky cloth that bound his wound. Slowly, Jordan unwrapped the cloth and threw it onto the floor.

She gasped at seeing the wound. Blood still oozed from the red, irritated cut near his upper elbow. Without taking her eyes from his wound, she reached into the water and pulled out the cloth. Gently, she touched the clean water to the wound, washing it with soft strokes.

“Unchain me, Jordan.”

She turned to him. Had he truly asked that of her? She stared into his eyes, eyes so intense that she almost reached for the manacles. Am I mad? she wondered. What’s come over me? She jerked back, dumping a cloth in the water of the basin.

“This is dangerous work. Have you no one else to tend me?”

He was mocking her! Jordan lifted her gaze to him. His eyes, a cool blue in the candlelight, centered on her with amusement. His cheeks were clean shaven, and she could see the muscle in his jaw working.

She realized quite suddenly that she was rather close to him. As if in response, she felt a jolt through her body. Her gaze shifted to his lips. She had always liked Fox’s lips, had often found them mesmerizing when he spoke. And even after their long years of separation, she still found her gaze hypnotized by them. They were so sensual, so alluring.

She shook herself and dipped the cloth into the water to clean it of blood. “It is a punishment.”

“Punishment?”

“I threw the dagger,” she said quietly, keeping her concentration on her work. But she couldn’t help the guilt surging through her. She had done this. She had caused him this injury, and it probably hurt like the devil. She finished wiping the cloth along his skin, cleaning it of blood.

A frown darkened Fox’s brow. “It would take more than your dagger to kill me.”

Shocked, Jordan sat back. She studied his dark face, the sudden anger thinning his lips. She had certainly not meant to kill him, although at that moment the thought was not altogether unpleasant. She should have wanted to kill him for what he did to Maggie. But she would have been just as happy to see him locked up. She picked up the clean cloth and began to wrap it around his wounded arm. “Why did you steal those herbs?”

He lifted his head even higher to face her squarely, revealing more of himself to her. She saw a strong, square jaw, and angry but still very sensual lips. “It’s none of your damned business,” he retorted.

Jordan’s mouth fell open, her eyes rounding in surprise at his vicious tone. She snapped her mouth closed and her eyes narrowed. “They were meant for me. I sent Evan to hurry the merchant. I needed –”

“I don’t care why you needed them.”

Jordan pulled the cloth tight around his wound and was rewarded by a gritting of his teeth. “You uncaring, unfeeling cur. Do you know the consequences of your actions?”

“The question should be, do I care?”

Jordan rose before him, her blood boiling at his callous retort. “You heartless bastard!” She wanted to stomp on his toes or kick some sense into him. She moved closer, leaning down near him to give him the full force of her anger. “A child died because of you,” she spat.

For a brief moment, Fox sat motionless, a quick spark of dismay and disbelief flashing across his eyes. Then he looked away from her, his face once again disappearing into the dark shadows of the dungeon. “One less noble child makes no difference to me,” he muttered.

Jordan brought her hand around and slapped his cheek soundly. “A child is a child, noble or not. And her death is on your hands.” Jordan closed her mouth, and her lips thinned in a tight line. Maggie hadn’t been a noble, just an abandoned girl. And Jordan had loved her dearly. “That is something I will never forgive you for.” Jordan grabbed the basin and candle and whirled for the door. “I hope you rot in here.”

The cell door slammed hard with a resounding clang, the bolt slamming back into place.

***

Fox gritted his teeth, listening to Jordan’s footsteps fading into the distance. Why should he care about what the herbs meant to Jordan? Why should he care what happened to anyone besides his people? Had his actions really caused the death of this girl?

Fox cursed silently and pushed the dark, unpleasant possibilities from his mind. I can’t let myself care, he thought. These are my enemies. All of them. Every noble man, woman, and child who lives on Ruvane lands or Vaughn lands and the lands stolen from my father. Every one.

“She’s a whirlwind,” a voice from the opposite wall said.

Fox didn’t reply. To see Jordan standing before him looking so damned beautiful... It would have been easier if the years had turned her into an ugly wretch. At least it would have been more fair. But life wasn’t fair. He’d learned that a long time ago. He knew he made his own luck.

And his own luck should be coming any moment now, if they stuck to the original plan and if nothing had happened to them. If no guard had recognized them...

Fox leaned back against the cold wall, running his hands through his black hair, the chains that bound him clanking as they moved. His arm throbbed. She had made the cloth too tight. But no matter. This little venture has cost me more than I thought. The dogs have stripped me of my armor and my horse. Ah well, he thought. I will get them back.

“At least this cell has good scenery,” the voice added. “Some of the stones are quite colorful.”

And I did find Beau, Fox thought, as the man chained opposite him continued to let his mouth run on and on. His friend was worth all the horses and armor in the kingdom. Now they needed to escape.

Suddenly, the sound of the bolt being drawn again filled the cell. The door swung open. For a moment, Fox was blinded by the light of a torch from the hallway. He put up a hand to protect his eyes to see who was entering.

The doorway was suddenly blocked by the bulky shape of a large man, a man rippling with muscles.

A grin stretched across Fox’s face. He stood up. “I was just wondering when you might show up, Pick.”

The large man shrugged helplessly before he suddenly lurched into the cell. He landed on his knees before Fox. Four guards followed him in. One guard kicked the big man in the ribs, making the burly man grunt. “Get over there, you big ox.”

The other guards stood alertly in the doorway, watching Pick move slowly toward the dungeon wall.

Pick smiled at Fox as the guard clapped manacles over his wrists. “Apparently so was Vaughn.”

The guard stepped away from Pick, joining the others at the door. “Sweet dreams,” the guard said. The other guards laughed as they left the cell, closing the door, sealing them in darkness.

“Nice to see you, Pick,” Beau greeted.

“I’m sure you think so,” Pick answered shortly, rubbing his side. “But I could have done without a few of these bruises.”

“It’s kind of chilly down here,” Beau said. “I hope you brought us some blankets.”

Pick grunted.

“All right,” Beau said. “Now what, Fox? I don’t think this was part of your master plan, was it? Ol’ Pick here was supposed to get us out, not join us, wasn’t he?” Beau turned to look at Pick. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, big man.”

Fox waited until the ugly sound of the laughing guards faded into the distance before turning to his large friend. “It’s time, Pick,” Fox said softly.

Pick nodded his head and reached into his mouth. He pulled out a thin piece of metal that had been held in place in a large gap in his back teeth and held it up before him.

The sliver of metal was barely visible to Fox in the murky gloom. But the sound of metal against metal as Pick slid it into the lock on the manacles was clearly audible in the darkness.

J
ordan shook the water from her velvet dress. It would dry. She had been so angry returning to her room that she spilled the water all over the front of her dress.

She changed into a white velvet gown with gold trim and left her hair down. A headband of gold encircled her head. She was braiding her long locks as she moved down the stairs when suddenly she heard the cry.

“Fire!”

Jordan dropped her hands from her hair, lifting her eyes to the hallway below her.

“Fire!” a shout sounded through the inner courtyard. “Fire!”

Immediately, she bolted down the stairs, running as fast as she could. She whipped around the corner...

... and almost slammed into a wall of flesh. She lifted her eyes for a hurried apology, but stopped dead. Fox stood before her. Two other men appeared to be with him, their gazes warily scanning their surroundings.

Fox! But how? What in heaven’s name was he doing out of the dungeon? Jordan opened her mouth in shock, to call out for help. But Fox’s eyes darkened and he grabbed her arm, pulling her to him, slapping his palm across her mouth, silencing any cry of alarm she had been about to make. “It doesn’t look like you’ll get your wish,” he growled. “The Black Fox rots in no man’s dungeon.”

Jordan struggled in Fox’s grip. There was a fire in the castle. She had to help.

Fox pulled her toward the door, his hand tight across her mouth. Jordan struggled harder, trying to wrench herself free. Fox only tightened his grip, moving his hold down her arm to around her waist.

As they paused near the doors, two monks appeared from the Great Hall.

Jordan’s eyes widened at their appearance. Her chance for escape. She lifted her foot and brought it down sharply on Fox’s. He barely noticed. He just shot her an aggravated look and pulled her even tighter to him.

The monks approached them quickly. Jordan’s heart leaped for joy. Surely they would help her. Surely they could see Fox was holding her against her wishes. They would free her and Fox would be returned to the dungeon. She doubled her efforts to escape, twisting and turning in Fox’s hold.

But as the monks neared, they slowed, and any sense of hope diminished from Jordan’s thoughts, then completely vanished as the monks pulled three brown robes from the confines of their clothing. These were no monks. They were friends of Fox. They were helping him escape. The two men with Fox quickly put on their robes.

“What are you going to do with her?” one of the monks asked. A female voice, Jordan realized. “We don’t have another robe.”

Fox quickly pointed to a rope tied around another monk’s waist, cinching the robe. “Give me that.”

The monk untied the rope from around his waist and held it out to Fox. Fox took it and pulled Jordan’s hands roughly behind her back, binding them firmly.