A Dark Champion (6 page)

Joanne nodded. “Knights from good families.”

“Knights with strong muscles,” Marian added.

“Aye,” Bridget continued. “And to our way of thinking, you marry Lord Stryder and we can have our pick of them.”

Rowena was aghast. “I can’t believe this. You would sacrifice me to Stryder so that you can—”

“It’s not a sacrifice,” Joanne said, interrupting her. “Lord Stryder is the catch of all Christendom. You should be flattered.”

If she heard that one more time…

Rowena sought peace from her women, but no matter where she tried to go, they dogged her steps, each one telling her of the plan she had to see Rowena united to Stryder forevermore.

This was turning out to be the longest day of her life.

Stryder paused in his tent as his men joined him.

Will stood even in height to him and held the same shoulder-length black hair. His demeanor was normally one of ill-natured surliness, but today his face was even stonier face than usual.

Two inches shorter, Swan stood to Will’s right. Swan was the ladies’ man out of their tight-knit group. A rogue charmer, he was seldom ever found without a woman near his side. His hair was a dark brown, falling just past his shoulders, and he wore a stylish goatee. His eyes were piercingly blue.

The man was fond of gambling equally with his life and with his coin.

To Swan’s right was Raven, who was as dark as his name. At barely a score-and-one in age, he was still a bit gangly in frame, but would no doubt fill out in the next few years. He’d always been like a younger brother to Stryder, who had adopted the boy while they had been prisoners in Outremer.

Just behind the three of them was Val, who stood a good head and shoulders above them all. Named for
St. Valentine, the man found very little amusing about his name and even less amusing about his giant height. But otherwise, he was without a doubt the best natured of the lot of them and was usually found laughing over the oddest things.

At the moment, though, his face would rival Will’s for grave seriousness.

“Surely none of you think I killed Cyril,” Stryder said as he faced them.

They passed a baffled look amongst themselves. “Nay, that never entered our minds,” Will spoke for the group while he unsheathed his sword.

Stryder eyed him suspiciously. “What is it you do?”

“Remember when you told us you’d rather be dead than married?” Val asked.

Will stepped forward. “We’re about to grant you your wish.”

Stryder shook his head. “Put your sword away.”

“Nay,” Swan said. “I spent the night with a maid from Rowena’s camp and she had much to say about their plans to see you two wed. You are doomed, Stryder. Run now while you’re able.”

Stryder scoffed. “Don’t be a fool. Even if I wished to, which I don’t, I can’t. To do so would make me look guilty, and we need to find who really killed Cyril.”

“Bah,” Val said disgustedly. “He had enemies aplenty. Only a complete idiot would blame you for it.”

“There are idiots aplenty at court,” Swan interjected. “A man’s reputation is at stake and the honor of all of us. Nay, it sits ill, but Stryder is right. We’ll let
him and Christian find the culprit while the rest of us keep the women occupied so that they cannot interfere and force a wedding.”

Will snorted. “Leave it to you to come up with that suggestion.”

“What?” Swan asked as if offended. “You find the idea of entertaining ladies distasteful? Why, Will, I had no idea you were a ganymede.”

Will shoved Swan, hard.

“Enough,” Stryder said, breaking them apart before their rough play escalated into violence. For full-grown knights, his men sometimes reminded him of children and he felt more like their father than overlord. “Shouldn’t the lot of you be out in the list training?”

They looked at each other as if disgruntled by the idea.

“Why?” Will asked. “’Tis not as if any of the lickspittles out there could best us. I’m thinking our time is best served elsewhere.”

Stryder rubbed his brow as a vision of Will in the alehouse, with a goblet in one hand and a maid in the other went through his mind. He groaned at the image. “’Tis a good thing I know where you were last night or else I might think you were the one who quarreled with Cyril and ended his life.”

Will was ever threatening to tear men apart.

On second thought, it was seldom a threat, but more often an action they were forever pulling him back from. Yet for all of Will’s willingness to kill others, Stryder doubted the man had really taken part in Cyril’s demise.

Nay, there was another man who was guilty for the deed.

Stryder told them of Rowena’s note and watched as one by one their faces turned grimmer.

“Our enemies haunt us,” Will said.

“Aye,” Stryder agreed. “I think we should set up sentries after this to ensure no more of us die.”

“How many members of the Brotherhood are here?” Val asked.

“With Cyril dead, there’s only us and Christian.”

“Nay,” Raven said quietly. “I saw Roger of Devonshire earlier this morn. He rode in late last eventide.”

“Then there are seven of us,” Stryder said. “Inform Roger of what has happened and have him bunk near us. I’ll take the first shift tonight, then we can alternate watch.”

They nodded in agreement.

“Just like old times,” Swan said, reminding them all of the days in their youth when they had drawn straws to see who would be sentries against their enemies.

“Let us hope not,” Raven said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve no desire to return to being frightened of my very shadow.”

Val draped a long, brotherly arm over his shoulders. “Have no fear, whelp, I’ll see you to manhood yet.”

Swan grimaced. “Yet another gelding I’m forced with. Mayhap I should take up the first guard. I’m afraid with men such as these at my back.”

Val swung at his head, but Swan ducked.

“Enough teasing,” Stryder said sharply. “We need to be wary of everyone here. Remember, there is an enemy among us.”

They nodded.

Inclining his head, Stryder made his way from his tent toward the castle.

Stryder’s intent was to speak to Henry, but he’d no more entered the castle than he’d run headlong into Rowena who was simultaneously trying to dash out the door.

The impact of her soft curves against him was as exciting as it was shocking. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms about her to keep her from falling.

Her face was flush, her eyes bright and shining. But more than that, her breathlessness conjured images in his mind of what she would look like in the throes of passion.

Indeed, it was all he could do to not capture those parted lips with his own and see just how breathless he could make her.

“Milady, we must stop meeting like this.”

Her face turned even redder. “It seems I am ever unbalanced in your lordship’s presence.”

He rumbled a low laugh at that. He felt much the same way around her.

She looked up at him with a searing gaze that made his groin tight and heavy. Aching. “But I am beginning to suspect my maids might be right about one thing.”

“And that is?” he asked as he set her back on her feet.

“Strong arms do have their uses at such times.”

Her unexpected words made him a bit nervous. Was that truly a compliment from a woman who professed to hate all knights?

He looked about as if expecting the Second Coming.

“Are you all right, milord?”

“Aye, but a compliment from you makes me fear that my death may be imminent.”

She laughed at that. “If your death is imminent ’tis from that sword you carry and not from my tongue.”

He arched a brow at her, but before he could speak, she continued, “I promised you that I would insult you no more. Therefore, my claws are effectively sheathed.”

Strange, but he rather missed the angry minx. She was easy to keep his guard against. He found this new side of her disturbing. Beguiling.

And the talk of her claws caused his gaze to drop to her hand where he noted she had her nails perfectly manicured. They were long and elegant.

A perfect set to have skimming down a man’s spine….

He stepped back as that unwanted thought went through him. He was beginning to think like Swan.

“Where were you off to in such a hurry?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

“Any place where none of my ladies-in-waiting can be found.”

“And why is that?”

“They have this foolish notion that you and I should wed.”

He let out a long, aggravated breath at that. “Then let us put them with my men, who are equally determined to see me bachelor.”

“Truly?”

“Aye. They’ve no wish for our lives to change.”

Her face turned speculative at that. “It might be interesting to let them loose on each other, just to see who wins, but in my experience, ’tis the man who invariably falls to the woman.”

He arched a skeptical brow. “I wouldn’t say that. The surrender seems to be mutual.”

“How do you figure?”

“Man may take a bite of the apple, but afterward, the woman ends up following him wherever he leads.”

“You think so?”

“You think not?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think some lady needs to take that ego of yours down a notch or two.”

Stryder gave her a hot once over. “And are you the lady to do it?”

A slow, seductive smile spread across her face. “Aye, Lord Charming. Unlike the others you have known, I am quite immune to your assets.”

“My assets?” he asked, intrigued by the notion that she had attributed any to him after their confrontation in the hall on the night they met. “And what would those be?”

“I think you know well enough what most maids fawn over.”

“But not you?”

“Nay,” she said, raising her chin a degree. “I have never been swayed by bulging arms or a handsome face.” She placed her hand against the center of his chest. “It’s what a man has in here that matters to me.”

Rowena had meant the words playfully, but the light in Stryder’s eyes went out immediately. His face turned gravely earnest.

“Then we are truly ill suited, since I have nothing left in there.”

His words surprised her. “Nothing?”

“Nay, lady. That part of me died long ago.”

His heart beat fiercely under her hand. It was every bit as strong as the man who stood before her. “For something dead, it seems powerful enough to me. Indeed, you didn’t hesitate to save Kit.”

He withdrew from her.

“Stryder?” she said, stopping him as he headed away from her.

He paused and glanced back.

“Thank you, again, for your courtesy.”

By his frown she could tell her words confused him. In truth, she didn’t know why she was being so kind to a man she should hate and yet she didn’t find it within her to hurt him. There was enough pain in his eyes.

“Ever at your service,” he said almost tauntingly before he continued on his way.

A small smile hovered at the edges of her lips.

Rowena watched until he’d vanished. He did have a most masculine walk.

And a handsome backside.

He’s a knight…

All humans had faults.

He kills people.

It was true and yet…

She shook her thoughts away. She wasn’t like her
friends who only wanted a man for his looks. Nor did she wish to lose herself to marriage. If she should ever choose a husband, she wanted a partnership. One built of mutual respect and friendship. Love would be a nice addition, but she didn’t delude herself with that thought.

Only the extremely lucky ladies in her position ever found love, and most of them had found it outside of their marriages. Nay, unlike the other troubadours, she didn’t believe in encouraging men and women into illicit affairs.

Rowena, like her parents before her, was an idealist. She imagined a world where everyone, rich and poor, married only for love.

But if she couldn’t have that, then the least she would settle for was friendship.

Lost in thought, Rowena headed toward the orchard in the back of the castle, seeking a place where she could be alone.

She hadn’t gone far into the area before a shadow caught her attention.

It moved quickly, like a phantom.

Frowning, she went toward it without thought.

Something that proved to be most unwise as she drew near enough to see what it was…

A large man.

He swung himself up to the top of the wall, but as he did so, the cowl of his cloak fell back.

Rowena gasped.

His hair was blacker than the midnight sky, his skin dark and tawny, and his eyes…

They were an eerie green that stood out from his dark skin.

The man was a Saracen!

And he had seen her as plainly as she had seen him.

P
art of Rowena wanted to scream and panic. The other, saner part made her run for her life.

She didn’t know if the Saracen was after her or not, nor did she pause long enough to find out.

She had only one thought in her mind—escape.

Rounding the corner of the castle, she caught sight of Stryder with Kit and the monk.

Rowena headed straight for them and it wasn’t until she had launched herself at Stryder that she dared look behind her.

Stryder stumbled sideways as someone propelled herself into his arms. Expecting it to be one of his many admirers, he couldn’t have been more stunned to find Rowena there.

“Again, Rowena, we must stop meeting this way,” he teased her.

Her eyes were wide and panic-filled, which immediately squelched his humor. “Is something amiss?”

“A Saracen,” she gasped. “In the orchard.”

His blood went cold at her words. Handing her over to his brother, he and Christian ran to check out the area.

Rowena watched the men run off while she struggled to control her pounding heart.

“Sh,” Kit said, taking her by the hand and leading her off to sit on a bench near the water well. “Catch your breath.”

She was ever grateful for her friend’s consideration as her heart still pounded and her limbs shook fretfully. That had been the most terrifying moment of her life. “Thank you, Kit.”

He went to get her a cool sip of the water from the well while she watched the area where the other two men had vanished.

“Drink it slowly,” he warned as he handed it to her.

Again, she thanked him.

“So, what did you see?” he asked after she had caught her breath.

She clutched the cold metal cup he had given her. “It was a man dressed in black Arab robes. He had eyes like a demon and moved like lightning. I’m still not sure he was quite human.”

Kit’s eyes showed he felt as much concern about this as she did.

“He must be the one who killed Cyril,” she whispered. “But where could such a man hide?”

“People like that are always where you least expect them.”

Perhaps that was true….

She looked past Kit’s shoulder to see Stryder and his friend returning.

Stryder approached her with a grim look. “We saw no one there.”

Rowena didn’t like the sound of that. “He must have run off when he saw me.”

The monk nodded. “I think it best that I leave and—”

“Nay, Christian,” Stryder said to the monk. “He’s out to kill off our members. The last thing I want is you traveling alone.”

Christian scoffed. “It would take more than a mere assassin to kill me, and well you know it.”

“It’s a chance I won’t take,” Stryder said emphatically. “Try to leave and I will shoot you in your leg with a bolt.”

Christian looked offended. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Test me.”

The look that passed between them said that Christian didn’t really doubt Stryder after all.

“Now then,” Stryder said, facing her. “Tell me of this man you saw. What did he look like?”

“He was garbed all in black and I saw very little of his form. He was too well robed.”

“Did he see you?” Christian asked.

“Aye.”

All three men cursed.

Rowena swallowed nervously as she realized why. “He’ll be coming for me, won’t he?”

“Most likely,” Christian said.

Stryder shoved at his friend. “Don’t upset her any more.”

“Would you have me lie?”

“Aye.” Stryder turned back to her. “One of us will have to guard you.”

She looked back and forth between Stryder, Kit, and Christian. Kit, while handsome and tall, wasn’t the sort to wield a sword. Neither was the monk.

As for Lord Stryder…

“I can hire someone to guard me.”

“Never trust a hired man,” Stryder said. “If they’ll serve you for one price, they’ll gladly serve another for a higher one.”

“Come to think of it,” Kit snapped as he glared at Rowena, “why are you without an escort?”

“I’m on the castle’s grounds,” she snapped back. “There shouldn’t be any danger within the walls.”

Kit shook his head as if disgusted. “Your uncle gives you entirely too much freedom.”

Rowena stiffened at Kit’s tone. Never before had her friend spoken to her in such a manner.

Even Stryder looked surprised.

“What’s done is done,” Stryder said. “Our concern now is making sure our only witness remains alive to help us hunt down our killer.”

“Very well,” Christian said. “You guard her and I will notify your men what is happening. We’ll do a search for our Saracen. He can’t be too far away. Rather, I’m thinking he must be hiding amongst us.”

“How so?” Kit asked. “Saracens are forbidden to wear our clothes.”

Stryder gave his brother a fierce frown. “How do you know that?”

“Everyone knows that,” Kit responded after a brief pause.

“We’ll search the countryside,” Christian said. “If there’s a camp, we’ll find him.”

Stryder looked skeptical. “They vanish into the deserts for days on end with nothing more than a knife to feed and protect them, and you think to find an assassin in the trees?”

Christian looked smug. “If he’s there, I will find him.”

“Don’t take long.”

Christian inclined his head, then left.

Kit looked as worried as Rowena felt. He excused himself and left her alone with Stryder, a man she should hate, and yet it had been him she had run to when she felt threatened. How very odd.

“’Tis an evil thing that was done here,” Rowena said quietly. “I hope we find this killer.”

“Trust me, milady, we will.”

He offered her his arm. “I’ll take you back to the castle. You should make certain that you stay with other people at all times.”

“So you won’t be guarding me?”

“Aye, I shall. But something tells me you might take it upon yourself to escape my watchful eye.”

“And something tells me that would prove a most difficult task.”

He smiled respectfully at that. Glory, but the man was most handsome when his stern features softened.

Rowena felt suddenly feminine around him in a
way she’d never felt feminine before. It was as if the woman in her was so beguiled by the male of him that she was more aware of herself and her needs than she had ever been before.

But the most disturbing thing of all was how much she wanted to know what a kiss from Stryder would feel like. What he would taste like.

Rowena
!

She was shocked by that. And terrified. She wasn’t like her friends, forever turned by a pretty face and yet as they walked along in silence, she found herself strangely curious about every facet of Stryder.

“They say you have no wish for children,” she found herself saying. “Is that true?”

He nodded.

“Why? I should think a man in your position would be concerned about his lands.”

“There are things in this life more important than lands.”

She agreed, but she wondered what he treasured more. “Such as?”

“Brotherhood. Vows. My lands are only important to me because they allow me to put my money to good use. When I am dead, I am dead. The last thing I wish is to leave behind anyone to mourn my passing. I want no child left behind to weep over my grave.”

She stopped as he spoke those soft words. But it wasn’t the words she reacted to. It was the sound of his voice. The betrayed grief. “Not all children are left behind, milord. Some are fortunate enough to have their parents for a long while.”

His eyes were so haunted that it made her chest
ache for him. “But all too many are. And then they are slaves to that land that was their father’s. Pawns to be used and for what? Even you are nothing more than an object in the eyes of Henry and your uncle. Would you want your daughter to be in your place?”

In that moment, she felt kinship to this stranger.

He understood her.

And that amazed her most of all. “Is that why you agreed to sing for me?”

He nodded. “I take my vows seriously, Rowena. And one of them was that I would do anything in my power to free those who are caught in situations that are harmful to them.”

She would never have thought a mere knight capable of such compassion and introspection. “You are a man of surprising depth, Lord Stryder of Blackmoor.”

“For a senseless knight, you mean?”

She felt her face flush. “Your squire told you of that too?”

“I believe his exact question was if all men had to abandon their senses to become soldiers.”

She cringed at that. “I didn’t mean
you
.”

“Nay?”

“Well, I didn’t know you then.”

He laughed at that. “I have to admit that I rather like to see you flustered, milady. Your pinkened cheeks do marvels for your eyes.”

“Are you complimenting me, sir?” she asked, amazed by this playful side of him.

“If I were?”

“I think I would be flattered.”

“Then I am complimenting you.”

Warmth flooded her. How noble and kind of her kn…

She swallowed as she realized the train of her thoughts. She’d almost considered him
her
knight. How untoward. She would never claim a man such as this. One who was known by how many men he’d killed.

It was unseemly and improper.

Wasn’t it?

Clearing her throat, she headed toward the castle. “Are you planning on following me about for the rest of the day?” she asked as he walked beside her.

“Until we find out more about this Saracen you saw, I think it wise.”

“And if I told you I was making it up, would you leave me in peace?”

“Nay, I would know you weren’t being truthful.”

“How so?”

His eyes were devilish and hot.

“You intentionally threw yourself into my arms, milady. Only the devil of a fright would have caused you to do such. Your terror was too real to be feigned.”

“But surely in the castle—”

“Cyril was in the middle of a camp of knights. Some of us are most light sleepers and yet someone crept into his tent and killed him while we were all about. That took a great deal of nerve and skill to accomplish.”

The dire tone of his voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?”

Again his eyes darkened. “If it is what we suspect, nay. I dare not.”

A chill went over her.

He paused for a moment before he continued. “I know of a Saracen called El Sahaar.”

She frowned as she recognized the term. “The Sorcerer?”

“How is it a lady of your standing knows Arabic?”

“My uncle’s physician swears by their medicine. He spent much of his youth studying it in Jerusalem, where he collected many books. After a great deal of coercion, I convinced him to teach me to read some of their stories.”

Stryder looked impressed. “You are quite remarkable.”

She smiled at his compliment. “You were telling me of this man?”

“Aye. He was able to literally vanish into a cloud of smoke. Fast and lethal, he moved as if he were invisible and he told us stories of how his people trained assassins.”

“I don’t know that term.”

“They are men trained to slay others silently. They come at you in the night, or even in the day, but always by surprise. Nassir…ElSahaar,” he added, “said that he had known of some who would walk up to men in the bazaars and knife them so quickly that no one could even begin to guess who the murderer was.”

That certainly sounded like the man she had seen in the orchard.

“So our Saracen could be anywhere?”

He nodded. “I would caution you to lock your window tonight. Hang a bell over the lock, just to be sure.”

Rowena trembled at the thought. “Is there any way to stop them?”

“One can only fight fire with fire, milady. The only way to stop them is to be quicker than they are.”

How she hated to hear that. It wasn’t in her nature to return violence with more violence. Couldn’t there be a peaceful solution?

Rowena led Stryder up the stairs to the ladies’ solar, where numerous women were passing a lazy early afternoon gossiping in chairs that were all about the room.

At the sight of Lord Stryder, they immediately shrieked and rushed them.

Stryder pulled her back through the door so quickly that she stumbled. He slammed the door and held it while the women pounded and screamed from the other side.

“Lord Stryder!”

“Quick,” he told Rowena, “grab that pole from the wall.”

She did as he asked.

“Place it under the knob. Hurry.”

Rowena hesitated. “They’ll be trapped in there.”

“Not for long. I shall send my squire back to unlock it. After, I’m gone.”

She gave him a suspicious look before she agreed to it.

As soon as the pole was wedged to keep the door from opening, he released it and took a deep breath.

But not for long.

Another group of women were coming from the opposite end of the hall, no doubt to join the others.

They screamed and ran at them.

Stryder grabbed her hand and pulled her after him as he ran back for the stairs. Rowena would have laughed had one of the women not grabbed her braid and yanked.

“Ow!” she snapped.

Stryder didn’t pause as he ran into the great hall. “Val!” he shouted at a man sitting in the corner. “Ten silver marks.”

The man wasted no time cutting the women off from their pursuit as Stryder dashed back out the door and dodged to the small courtyard to the right.

Only when they were shielded from the yard by tall shrubs did he stop. His eyes panicked, he looked about as if expecting someone else to leap out at him.

“Does this happen to you often?” she asked as she tried to catch her breath.

“More than you’d believe,” he said.

Rowena knew how women talked about the earl and their attempts to claim him, but she had never before witnessed them actually attacking him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I told you, Rowena, you alone seem immune to whatever it is that makes every woman I meet want to throw herself at me.” His eyes twinkled at that. “Then again—”

“Don’t say it,” she said, placing her hand over his lips. “I have never intentionally thrown myself at you.”