Champion of the Heart (9 page)

The black knight raised his weapon and brought it quickly around to the side, hitting Evan in the arm. The plate mail deflected the blow, but Evan teetered for a moment. Then he slipped and went down on one knee.

Jordan gasped. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Evan recovered quickly and rose to his feet again to meet his opponent’s swing.

Her father exhaled in relief, too. She glanced at him to find him nodding his head, as if he were looking at a son to find him exactly what he expected.

The black knight pursued Evan relentlessly.

Evan turned on the knight, ramming his sword against his plate armor. But it bounced harmlessly off. Evan brought his sword around again, smashing the black knight’s helm. The black knight appeared dazed and stumbled back.

For a moment, Jordan thought it was over. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.

Evan lifted his weapon high for the final attack.

Suddenly, the black knight came to life, shoving his gauntleted hand into Evan’s chest. Evan tumbled backward and hit the ground in a cloud of dust, his sword flying away from him.

Jordan’s mouth dropped open as the black knight moved to Evan, lifting his sword high in the air, meaning to plunge it deep into Evan.

“No!” Jordan shouted, taking the first step down the platform.

The black knight halted at her call and glanced up at her.

Jordan saw searing blue eyes gaze at her for a long moment from beneath his black visor.

Evan struggled to twist and turn to find his weapon, but the weight of his armor kept him pinned to the ground. The black knight turned back to Evan.

“No!” Jordan cried out again. He was going to kill Evan. Instinctively, she lifted her skirt and grabbed her dagger, throwing it across the field. It flew fast and straight, lodging into the gap at the underside of the knight’s left arm.

He staggered back from Evan, lowering his sword, and clutched at his arm.

“Jordan,” her father chastised angrily.

Horrified, Jordan watched as her dagger did little to stop the black knight. He gripped his sword in two hands and moved toward Evan again.

With a wave from her father, four men rushed onto the field to restrain the black knight, pulling him away from Evan.

Jordan jerked forward to move to Evan’s side. But her father grabbed her arm, restraining her.

“Come forward, black knight,” her father said.

Jordan struggled for a moment, then turned to her father in shock. That’s when the realization hit her. This man, this black knight, had beaten Evan!

The black knight shrugged himself free of the men holding him and stepped toward the viewing platform, holding his left arm.

Jordan turned to him. Complete dread washed through her.

“Well done, sir,” her father called out in greeting. “You have done well this day.”

The black knight halted directly before the platform. Behind him, the four men finished helping Evan to his feet. He ripped off his helmet, hollering, “Unmask, sir, so I can see who beat the best fighter in all of England!”

“Yes,” Lord Ruvane agreed. “Remove your helm so we may welcome you into our family.”

No! Jordan thought, her insides twisting. This can’t be!

For a long moment, the black knight did not move.

Silence blanketed the entire field.

“Remove your helm,” Lord Ruvane insisted.

A grumbling grew and spread amongst the spectators. The crowd moved forward, edging closer to the platform to see the winner.

The black knight sheathed his sword and then reached up with his right hand to pull the helm from his head. As he lowered it away from him, his face slowly emerged into view. Wet hair, dark as coal; blue sapphire eyes, hard as rock; an aquiline nose; lips thin and set in defiance; and a strong, square chin.

Jordan knew him immediately. She gasped in shock and her heart skipped a beat in her chest. “Fox.”

His intense gaze swiveled to her, pinning her to her spot, a searing torch igniting her body.

His name was echoed around the platform and fence by everyone who had gathered, but no voice echoed louder than Evan’s. “The Black Fox!” he raged.

“I have won Lady Jordan’s hand fairly.” Fox’s voice, thick with bitterness, rose above the outburst.

Evan marched up to him. “Have you lost your mind, Mercer?” Evan proclaimed. “You can’t have her.”

“Did you really think I would allow my daughter to marry an outlaw?” Lord Ruvane asked Fox in disbelief.

“Guards!” Evan called, stepping toward Fox and placing the tip of his weapon at Fox’s throat. “You are under arrest, Fox Mercer.”

Men in chainmail and tunics bearing the Ruvane crest rushed onto the field, surrounding him.

Fox stood his ground, not even trying to escape. His gaze swiveled to Jordan again. Accusation burned in his eyes.

Her shock disappeared, quickly replaced by her own anger. He should be imprisoned! He should be locked away forever for stealing the herbs that would have saved Maggie’s life. She lifted her chin slightly and narrowed her gaze. What did he have to accuse her of? She should be looking at him with disdain. “Take this murderer to the dungeon,” she spat.

The murmuring rose again.

“I declare Sir Evan the winner of the tournament and of my daughter’s hand in marriage,” Lord Ruvane exclaimed.

But there was no loud cheer from any of the onlookers. Just murmurings of confusion and awe and shock that the Black Fox had been captured.

“You heard the lady. Take him to the dungeon,” Evan ordered.

The guards roughly seized hold of Fox’s arms. His black helm fell to the ground, and Evan kicked it aside as the men marched their prisoner toward Castle Ruvane.

“I
can’t believe he would dare to show his face here!” Jordan marched back and forth across the solar, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

Evan leaned back in his chair and let her rant, a grin on his lips.

“What could he have hoped to accomplish?”

“Your hand in marriage,” Evan supplied, graciously.

“Ha!” Jordan exclaimed in disbelief. “I would not marry him if he were the last man in all of England!” She drummed her fingers on her lower lip. “He’s a wanted outlaw, a thief, and a killer. But he is not stupid. He knew there was no chance for him to win my hand in marriage. So why come here?”

“Jordan,” Evan mused, “Fox never was very smart. I never thought so.”

Jordan turned to look at Evan. “You used to be good friends.”

“That was a lifetime ago. And truthfully, you used to be friends with him. I just tolerated his presence because I thought you liked him.”

I did like him, Jordan thought, remembering their childhood friendship. I liked him very much. What had happened to the boy she had so admired? What had happened to the young man she had almost believed herself to be falling in love with? What had frozen his heart and turned his soul to ice?

“What if he came to defeat you?” she mused. “His old friend?”

Evan stiffened.

But Jordan continued, not noticing the insult she had delivered. She waved her hand wildly about in the air. “It makes no difference why he came.” She scowled darkly. “The only thing that matters is that because of him, Maggie is dead.”

Evan slouched slightly in the chair. “Well, we have him now. He will cause us no more misery. He will pay for his crimes, and pay dearly. He’ll be doing no more stealing.”

“Yes,” Jordan said quietly. But her mind refused to stop thinking about those eyes that had stared at her from the battlefield. They were not the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. They were not the eyes of a man who would take the life of a child to extract some sort of twisted revenge. Then why had he done it? Why had he stolen the herbs? Was it truly to get back at her? And if it was, did that then, in some macabre twist of fate, make Maggie’s death her fault? Guilt churned in her heart, even though she knew she could not realistically blame herself for the little girl’s death.

Suddenly, the door opened and her father entered like a storm cloud. His fierce scowl warned Jordan of his temper. “Jordan,” he rumbled.

Jordan knew better than to let her own temper show when he was so enraged. “Yes, Father.”

He held out a dagger to her. “I believe this is yours.”

Jordan took the dagger from his hands. She studied it for a moment. “Thank you, Father.”

“Do not thank me yet, child,” he warned. “Your interference in the tournament was a disgrace.”

“He was going to kill Evan!” she objected.

A frown marred Evan’s brow, and he straightened in his chair. “I can defend myself.”

“Imagine, my own daughter throwing a dagger in the midst of a battle,” her father said, pacing. “And because of it, a man is wounded.”

“A criminal is wounded!” Jordan corrected.

“Still, it is man’s work, not woman’s, to wield weapons.” Lord Ruvane puffed out his chest. “You will go and mend his wound.”

“What?” Jordan gasped.

Evan rose. “I’ll go with Jordan.”

Lord Ruvane held out a hand to him, stopping him. “No. Jordan must learn the consequences of her actions. She will go alone down into the dungeon, amidst the robbers and thieves.”

“Mend his wound?” Jordan objected. “But Father...”

“He is a criminal!” Evan joined her defense. “To send her unprotected...”

Lord Ruvane waved his hand in dismissal. “Mercer is chained to the wall. What can he do to her? Besides, there is a man guarding the dungeon. She will be in no danger.”

Jordan glared at her father for a long moment, disbelief etched in her brow. “Father, you can’t –”

“Your behavior was unacceptable. You will do as I say.”

Jordan turned from her father to Evan, beseeching him with her eyes. Grudgingly, he dropped his gaze, his jaw tight.

Aghast, Jordan whirled from the room. Mend Fox’s wound! The man who was the cause of Maggie’s death. Maybe I can put poison in his wound. Or mayhap I can tie the bindings so tight that his arm will fall off.

Mend Fox’s wound, indeed!

***

Jordan stood at the top of the spiraling stairs and looked down into the darkness. She held a basin of water and some cloth. It wasn’t tainted with poison, as she would have liked, but the bitterness in her mouth might as well have been poison.

A sudden memory flashed into her mind. She remembered standing at the top of the stairs, terrified by the patch of blackness that seemed to descend into eternity below her. “Don’t be afraid, Jordan,” Fox had whispered to her. He had grabbed her hand, holding her fingers tight. “You never have to be afraid when I’m with you.”

Strange she should remember that now.

She descended into the dank, dark bowels of the castle, a chill climbing her spine despite his comforting voice still echoing in her ears. He wasn’t with her today, and he would never be with her again. Never as a friend.

She moved deeper into the darkness. Around her, the air seemed to thicken with a chill dampness. This was no place for a lady, especially one on the verge of marriage. But her father’s word was law. She clutched the basin as if it were some sort of shield.

She moved carefully down the spiraling stairway, careful not to slosh the water on her dress. At the bottom of the stairs, the bottom of the castle, the bottom of the world, she continued on to the guard’s post. Her protector. Her guardian in case one of those foul vagabonds tried to touch her. But what she found caused her even more dismay.

The guard was slumped over the table, snoring loudly, an empty cup of ale still gripped loosely in his hand. Jordan stared for a moment, her mouth open. She turned back toward the stairs, to her father. But then she halted. It would serve him right to know he sent her here unprotected. She could just imagine the shock on his face, the horror.

Besides, he would still send her back down, and she would have to carry this basin of water all the way back. She just wanted to get this unpleasant task over with and get out of the dungeon.

She moved up to the guard and took a candle from the table. Then, balancing the basin in one hand and the candle in the other, the cloth tucked beneath her chin, she muttered a curse and walked into the darkness of the dungeon hallway. She moved to the door and peaked through the barred windows. Jordan knew there were two other prisoners in the dungeon right now, but she could see no one in the gloomy interior. The candle cast its light only a few feet into the dungeon’s belly.

Jordan put the basin and candle down and slid the heavy bolt aside. The loud grating sound reverberated through the dungeon. She glanced back toward the guard’s post, hoping it would wake the man up. But the guard did not appear. Only his snoring echoed down the hallway after her.