Champion of the Heart (5 page)

“No. We have to think of something.” But even as Jordan said the words, Maggie’s breathing slowed. She pressed her cheek to the girl’s head and looked at Evan through her blurry vision. “She’s dying, Evan,” Jordan whispered in agony.

Evan looked away.

“Maggie,” Jordan sobbed, and pressed her cheek to the child’s. “No,” she begged. But even as she said the word, the girl’s breathing stopped altogether and her body went limp. Her chest no longer rose and fell. Jordan pulled Maggie tightly to her, sobbing, pleading with the Almighty not to take her. Maggie was only a child, the daughter she didn’t have yet. She couldn’t die because of some silly herbs.

“Jordan,” Evan called.

Jordan refused to look up. She kept her eyes closed tightly, her fists wrapped in the girl’s cotton dress. Her body shook with unspoken sorrow as she held Maggie.

“Jordan.” Evan’s voice was firmer, demanding her to look up.

Jordan didn’t care what he wanted. He had failed to bring her the herbs that would have saved Maggie’s life. It was his fault. It was all Evan’s fault.

But she knew deep down it was not Evan’s fault. It was her fault for letting the children play in the rain the other day. Everyone had warned her.

But the herbs would have saved Maggie’s life. Who could have stolen them? And why? Why?

Someone grabbed her shoulder, shaking it gently. Jordan looked up to see Evan standing beside her. He jerked his head at the doorway. Jordan looked over Evan’s shoulder to see the children standing in the doorway. Kara, Ana, and Jason were sobbing. John was holding Emily slightly behind them in the open doorway.

Jordan straightened and looked away to the dark wood wall, composing herself. It took her a long moment to blink back the tears and wipe her cheeks. She carefully laid Maggie on the bed, smoothing back her hair one last time. A well of grief opened inside her as she gazed at Maggie’s still face, but she fought down the tears. She pulled the blanket over Maggie’s head, saying a silent farewell.

She slowly turned to the children and rose from the bed. With each step she took toward them, their tears pulled at the fragile wall of protectiveness she had tried to throw up around her own emotions. She had to stay strong for them. She had to keep her composure. Their large eyes looked to her for a reason, their tears demanding an answer. She reached the door and stopped.

“You promised us Maggie would be all right,” Ana said. “You promised.”

Jordan knelt before them, pain and failure welling up inside her. She could feel the protective wall starting to crack. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Jordan knew she had to control her tears. She had to be strong. She had to be. But when Kara threw her arms around Jordan’s neck and cried into her shoulder, the wall shattered completely and Jordan could do nothing to prevent the wave of anguish overflowing her senses. She hugged Kara tightly, sobbing.

All the other children threw their arms around her in a protective shelter of love and grief.

They wept for a long time together, holding each other, comforting each other as best they could. Thankfully, Evan had closed the door on Maggie’s death, sealing out the image of her unnaturally still form.

Abagail clapped her hands. “It’s time to eat, children,” she said in her motherly voice.

Jordan looked up at her and stood. She dabbed a sleeve at the corners of her eyes. “Abagail is right,” she agreed, gently taking Kara’s shoulders and guiding her to her chair at the table. The rest of the children followed, taking seats at the wooden bench.

When the children were all seated at the table, eating in a strange brooding silence, Evan gently took Jordan’s elbow to lead her to the side of the room.

“You have guests arriving at Castle Ruvane. You can’t afford to dwell here much longer,” Evan said.

“I will stay as long as I am needed,” Jordan replied softly, her eyes taking in the way Ana bowed her head and wiped at her eyes.

“Jordan,” Evan began sternly.

Jordan’s gaze turned to the closed door, and the image of the young girl lying lifelessly inside filled her mind. Maggie. They had been so close to curing her. “I can’t believe she’s gone. Just yesterday morn I was playing hide and seek with her.”

“Life is like that,” Evan said, distracted. He glanced at the front door as if he had somewhere better to be.

“You can leave, Evan,” Jordan said coldly, angrily. “Thank you for staying and thank you for your help with Maggie.”

Evan’s gaze shot to her as she began to move past him. “Don’t be like that, Jordan. I did my best. I will capture the cur that stole those herbs and make him pay for what he did. You have my word on that.”

Jordan faltered and turned to him. “You know who did it?” she asked, shocked.

Evan nodded. “The merchant saw him. Yes,” Evan said stoically. “I know who did it.”

“Who?” Jordan demanded, grabbing his arm tightly.

Evan shifted his blue gaze to her. There was such animosity in his gaze that for a moment Jordan was taken aback. Just by his stare, just by the hatred in his gaze, she knew who it was. And she couldn’t believe it.

“The Black Fox,” Evan said. “The Black Fox killed your Maggie.”

J
ordan still couldn’t believe it. Fox Mercer had been her friend long ago. Her very good friend. But then their friendship had fallen apart when his father’s title and lands had been taken away from him. She had tried to write him letters to renew their friendship, but he returned every letter unopened. They certainly were no longer friends, but she had never considered him an enemy. Now she knew better. He was an outlaw. An outcast. A thief.

And now she could add murderer to the list. Her anger mounted as she followed Evan toward Castle Ruvane, guiding her horse behind his. Fox had stolen the herbs that would have saved Maggie’s life. Jordan’s eyes narrowed slightly. Fox was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer.

She knew Evan hated Fox. His face twisted and his lips drew back in a tight grimace every time he spoke his name. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched if Fox’s name even came up in conversation. Fox had been stealing and pillaging within Vaughn’s borders for more than a year. There was no love lost between the two former friends.

But Jordan believe she understood the pattern of Fox’s robberies. He wasn’t randomly stealing, as Evan thought. Fox was supplying his men, taking crops and food, pigs and horses. Only occasionally, when it was obvious he was purposely antagonizing Evan, would he rob people of their coin. He had certainly not been the most dangerous outlaw. Simply the most annoying.

Now his childish antics had killed someone dear to Jordan, had cost a young girl her life. It was time to put an end to it. Evan had been after Fox for the past year. Jordan had remained silent because of some long ago loyalty she still felt for Fox. She felt guilty about leaving him without saying good-bye. She tried to right her wrong, had written him countless letters, only to find each one of them refused again and again, returned unopened.

But Maggie’s death had changed everything.

“I can help you capture the Black Fox,” Jordan said quietly.

Evan turned to her, surprise lighting his eyes. He reined in his horse, halting the animal until they rode side by side. He almost laughed, until he saw the scowl on her brow. “You can’t be serious, Jordan. You know nothing of his kind. You know nothing of criminals and robbers. Not to mention setting traps or...”

“But I know Fox.”

“You knew Fox.”

The condescending tone of Evan’s voice annoyed her. “I can set a trap he will be unable to resist. I can get him to jump at the bait. Take my help or leave it but I guarantee you Fox will come.” She spurred her horse into a canter, moving down the road toward Castle Ruvane.

Evan hurried after her. “All right, Jordan! All right. I’ll use whatever means I must to capture the Black Fox. I will listen to what you have to say.”

***

Jordan groaned inwardly as she made her way through the crowded Great Hall of Castle Ruvane. She didn’t enjoy being at the castle, especially not today. She didn’t feel like wearing the heavily embroidered dress her maidservant, Therese, had chosen for her.

The image of lowering Maggie’s casket into the ground still burned in the forefront of her memory. They had buried her in the town’s cemetery on the western edge of the village before returning to the castle. She could still hear the clumps of dirt hitting the wooden box. And every so often she swore she could hear the soft echo of the other children crying, their small voices drifting in the wind.

She caught herself looking over her shoulder more than once, expecting to see John or Ana standing right behind her, tears streaming down their cheeks, their chests heaving with sobs. But every time she turned around, the road was empty and still. Deathly quiet.

Today, the castle was far from quiet. All the more reason she did not want to be there. The Great Hall was bustling and loud with raucous laughter from the knights attending her father’s tournament. Many of the men had come from miles around; some had traveled for days, even weeks, just to attend. More seemed to be arriving every hour. The castle had quickly filled to capacity, and some of the knights had been forced to raise tents just outside the castle walls.

There seemed to be an unusual air of excitement about this particular tournament, but Jordan couldn’t quite put her finger on why. There were still four days to go before the tournament officially began, and the knights were already practicing very hard for it. A few of the men had already been wounded in practice battles; one had been taken home on the back of a wagon, still unconscious from a serious blow to his head. She had asked her father about the level of excitement among the knights, but he had avoided giving her a straight answer, telling her that the thrill of battle simply had attracted many fine warriors. When she pressed him further, he just smiled and kept silent.

Jordan made her way toward the head table. It was positioned on a raised platform so it sat just above the other tables, its occupants looking down at everyone else. At the head table, she saw her father laughing with another well-known lord, Lord McColl. McColl was a small man, his black hair peppered with gray. His son sat beside him, a young, wiry lad who looked down at the other tables with envious eyes, studying the dozens upon dozens of knights gathering at Castle Ruvane for the tournament, obviously wishing to be one of them. Also at the head table was Evan. Thankfully, the only empty chair was between her father and Evan.

As she made her way past the lower tables, many knights bowed respectfully to her. Others stared furtively, while others ogled her quite brazenly. She was the hostess and smiled back at many, favoring none, mumbling greetings to them as she passed.

A brazen young lord leaped before her, startling her. He grabbed her hand in his and pointed to an empty seat beside him. “I have kept your seat warm, Lady Jordan. Please.”

Jordan shook her head respectfully. “Thank you, good sir, but I will sit beside my father.”

The young knight tried to pull her toward his table, and she could smell the strong scent of ale on his breath. She glanced at her father, whose eyes burned into the man. Jordan leaned close to him. “If you want to compete in the tournament, you had best release me at once.”

The young man glanced over his shoulder at her father and quickly removed his hand from her. “I shall win the tournament in your honor,” he whispered to her before returning to his seat.

Jordan frowned at the knight, then moved past him to the head table, raising the hem of her dress as she moved up the two steps. Every lord at the table greeted her with a slight bow. Then Jordan took her seat. Her father lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to it.

Before Jordan could even utter a word of greeting, her father stood. The musicians immediately ceased their playing and the din of conversation quickly lessened into muted whispers.

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming to participate in the tournament,” her father said.

Murmurings erupted from one table and then laughter.

Her father continued, undaunted. “I know you’ve traveled far. There are gathered among us some of the most skilled knights in all the realm. As reward, the winner of the melee shall be granted a prize worthy of the most valiant and able of knights.”

A prize? Jordan’s father had mentioned nothing to her of a prize. She took a sip of the ale one of the serving women placed before her.

“A prize worthy of the greatest knight or lord in all the lands.”

What could it be? Jordan mused. Part of the Ruvane lands?

“The winner shall have my daughter Jordan’s hand in marriage.”

A murmuring spread like wildfire through the Great Hall. Then a hearty huzzah! rumbled through the chambers. “Huzzah!” “Huzzah!”

Jordan’s stomach dropped. She could feel the color drain from her face, could feel her flesh turning from pink to white. Marriage? Prize? The idea was so sudden, so ludicrous, that she had a difficult time comprehending it.