Elora lifted her chin. She took deep breaths to remain calm.
Finally, he licked his lips and lowered his head closer to her. “I want you to find a way I can defeat him.”
She reared back, disgusted. “What?”
“Go to him. Tomorrow morning, before you break your fast. Get him to tell you something.” He spread his fingers. “Anything. Something I can do to knock him from his horse. Do that for me, and I will not tell Edward.”
She frowned furiously and waved him away dismissively. “You’re mad!”
“I will meet you tomorrow before I joust. You will tell me what you’ve learned.”
“I would never do that for you. No honorable knight would ask for that. Find your own way to defeat him.”
Osmont shook his head slowly. “As you wish. It is your decision. I shall do my utmost to cast you in a favorable light when I tell Edward of your rendezvous.”
“It was not a rendezvous!”
“It certainly looked like one. What other explanation could there be? You’ve always been rather…” His shrewd stare raked over her. “…Shameless.”
Elora clenched her teeth. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to command him to leave. But doing either would only enhance his determination to tell Edward.
He retreated to the door.
Sarah stood aside, pulling away from him as if he had leprosy.
Panic flared inside Elora, and her gaze flitted around the room as if searching for a solution. She could find Edward and tell him the truth before Osmont reached him, which was the logical thing to do. She wrung her hands. She had promised Edward she would not leave her room. He would never understand. She didn’t even understand herself. Instead of saying goodbye to Julian, she had told him she would picnic with him on the morrow! She chewed her lip, swiveling to Sarah. How could she betray Julian for Osmont? But given the circumstances, how could she not?
“Wait,” she called half-heartedly.
Osmont hesitated in the doorway. He turned.
Oh, how she hated him. Contempt oozed from every pore of her body. At least, she could buy herself some time to figure out what to do.
“I’ll do it. I’ll try to find a way for you to beat Julian.”
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning shortly after sunrise, Julian clutched his lance as he stared down the field at the two small rings Baldwin and Gilbert had set up for him, with two on the return. Four circular rings. The most he had managed to spear was three, which was good, but not good enough for him. He vowed to do it this run. Storm sat stoically beneath Julian. Both rider and horse were calm. Steady. He took a deep breath and spurred Storm. They sped down the practice field, and Julian lowered his lance, couching it beneath his arm. He focused on the first ring, aiming his lance steadily. The tip pierced the center, and it slid onto his lance.
The wind blew his hair from his face as he aimed the lance for the next ring. Smaller than the first, but not a challenge for him. His lance speared the loop. He turned Storm toward the last two rings on the other side of the practice field without breaking stride.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Baldwin standing near the last ring, closest to their camp, with his arms crossed. Gilbert stood beside him. But what caught his attention was her.
Ellie was here! She wore her hooded cloak, but he would recognize her anywhere.
He missed the third ring and was off course for the fourth. But he didn’t care. His focus was on Ellie and her friend, Sarah, standing next to her. He tossed his lance down and dismounted Storm before he had completely stopped. He jogged two steps to her side. “Are you well? Is everything alright?”
Baldwin was shaking his head in disapproval; his lips clenched tight.
Gilbert raced after Storm into the field, catching his reins.
Ellie nodded; her stare focused on Julian. “I had to see you again.”
Julian frowned. He didn’t mind at all seeing her again, but he knew it was risky for her to come out here. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Are you sure you’re well?” His stare shifted to her temple injury. Was the bump on her head causing her irrational behavior? “You shouldn’t be here. Someone will see you.”
Her full, lovely lips turned down in a pout. “I’ll go if you want me to.”
“Ellie,” Julian murmured, gently taking her hand. “I only wish no distress on you. If all is well, I would like nothing better than for you to remain.”
She smiled radiantly. “Then, I shall stay.”
Baldwin grumbled and threw up his hands.
Goosebumps of suspicion danced up Julian’s arms. “What of Osmont? Did he tell your brother?”
Ellie shook her head. “Edward never came.”
Something was not right. Julian glanced over his shoulder at the handful of knights practicing in the field. “Then, we should leave. He might see you.” Julian led them all toward his tent. “Ellie, do you think it wise to risk your brother seeing you with me?”
Elora pulled her hand free. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I should go.”
Julian faced her quickly, inspecting her beautiful features. Her large blue eyes clearer than a bright sky and her full lips so ripe for kissing. But her brow furrowed with indecision. As she continued past him he caught her elbow. “What is it, Ellie? What’s happened?”
She placed her arms over her stomach and looked around at the others. “Can we talk?”
“Of course.”
Baldwin grunted and stalked off. Gilbert gently took Sarah’s hand and led her closer to the tent to give them some privacy.
Elora waited until they were out of earshot. “I feel I should treasure every moment with you because I never know if it will be the last.”
Julian heard the agony in her voice, and his entire being responded, wanting to comfort and reassure her. He cupped her chin and lifted her face to his. Her beautiful blue eyes were sad and reserved. “I will win you. I promise.”
She shook her head, pulling free of his hold. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“You don’t believe me? I will win this tournament, and then I will ask for your hand.”
She grinned sadly. “Edward would never agree.”
“I will convince him!” Julian said with exuberance, then sighed heavily. “I will find a way.”
Raucous shouts and laughter came from amidst the colorful pavilions in the center of the camp, drawing their attention.
Julian glanced back at Elora. He reached out to touch the side of her head, near her injury. “How is your head?”
“Well. Sarah took excellent care of it. It doesn’t even hurt.” Elora tilted her head, regarding him. “You missed the last two rings.”
Julian grinned. “When I saw you, I thought something was wrong. Nothing else mattered.”
She walked ahead of him through the grass field toward the river; her hands rubbed her arms.
Julian followed her. Anguish gripped him. He would do anything to ease her concerns. He wished he could make her believe that he would win the championship joust. That he would fight for her.
She paused at the bank of the river, staring out over the moving water. “Tell me of your jousting.”
Surprise washed over him. “Jousting? I would have thought you would ask about my childhood or how I met Gilbert. Why jousting?”
She shrugged. “We are at a tournament.”
“I am undefeated, as you know.”
“Have you always been good at jousting?”
He picked up a pebble from the shore and tossed it into the water, remembering the teasing he’d endured. “No. I was small in stature as a boy. I remember there was a time I could barely lift a two-handed sword.”
“How did you become a knight? Why would your father pick that profession for you if you had trouble lifting a sword?”
The memories turned dark. His father’s scowling visage rose like a storm cloud in his mind. Turbulent darkness awoke in Julian’s soul. “He didn
’t. He mocked me every time I trained. I felt like a failure.” He shook his head as if trying to remove the images from it. “He even took Osmont under his wing and trained him instead of me. It was Baldwin who agreed to train me. I left home with him, and I’ve never been back.”
She stepped close to him and put an arm about his waist. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
Julian shrugged as if removing an old cloak. He watched the distant horizon. “I will never be a failure again.”
She wrapped both arms about him, squeezing him.
He looked down at her, lifting an arm to drape it over her shoulders.
“What did Baldwin teach you?” she wondered.
“Everything my father could not. Which was everything.” He nuzzled her head, the scent of roses filling his nostrils. “I owe him everything.”
“He sounds like a wonderful mentor.”
“He’s more than a mentor. He’s the only family I have known for years.” Silence settled over them as Julian recalled the months and years of training. When he’d met Baldwin, he had already known how to ride a horse, but Baldwin had taught him more. Baldwin had taught him how to use his legs to control Storm. And jousting… “He taught me everything. He taught me to look for flaws in the styles of others.”
“What type of flaws?”
Julian recalled the men he had faced. Osmont was the easiest. His pride and temper made him overconfident and lazy. “All types. Some knights are not good riders, which is easy to spot. Others, like Mace, favor one side over the other and protect it more. One correctly aimed hit, and they can be unhorsed.”
“What of Osmont?”
Julian’s lip curled in contempt, and his eyes narrowed. “Osmont has many faults. Least of all is his arrogance.”
“Can you defeat him?”
“I can and will.”
“How?”
He stared down into her pure blue eyes. Like a cloudless day. “By sheer will.” His gaze moved over the curves in her cheeks, the straight line of her jaw and up to her full lips. “Ellie, I will land him in the dirt for you, for what he did to you.”
Her pupils were wide as she gazed up at him, and she leaned into him. “I would like that.”
He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her injury. He kissed it gently.
“Tell me his fault.”
Julian inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Like I said. He has many. But one of his biggest is he keeps his shield too low. It acts as a funnel to his right shoulder.” He smiled, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “That’s how I unhorsed him the first time.”
She tilted her lips up to his. “His right shoulder?”
“Aye. His right shoulder,” he whispered, his lips stroking hers. Her soft breath fanned his mouth. She was so delectable, like a morsel of a sweet pie that he could not get enough of. She was addicting. He pressed his lips to hers, stealing a kiss he knew would not be enough. He wanted all of her. He knew he should pull away, but he couldn’t. It was like ripping out his heart, anguish that wouldn’t cease. He deepened the kiss, coaxing her lips open, and when she parted them, he plunged his tongue into her warm recesses, tasting her. She smelled of roses, but she tasted of a potent blend of honey and wine. Nectar.
He pulled her closer, his hands sweeping up her back. He knew he should stop before it went too far.
She groaned softly, pressing her curvy body against his.
He could not stop. He was lost in the feeling of desire and arousal she stoked in him. The heated fire blazed through him, and his hands wandered over her hip and up the side of her body. So delightful. So tempting. So irresistible. He inched his hand up farther until he felt the swell of her breast at his fingertips. He was so hard, so agonizingly hard.
She moved against him, purring. Damn. He could not resist. He swept his hand over her breast.
She inhaled, pressing against him.
Oh Lord, he was lost. His mind focused on only one thing. One thing. Her. Always Elora.
“Julian!”
Go away, he thought but dropped his hand.
“Julian!”
Damn. He pulled back, holding Elora close, hoping the moment would not pass. He glanced over his shoulder. Gilbert stood near the tent with Sarah at his side.
“We should see the women back for their morning meal,” Gilbert explained.
Julian looked down at Elora with regret. He knew Gilbert was right, but he didn’t want to let her go.
She grinned with understanding, her eyes lidded, sultry, and tempting. “Always the wrong time.”
He placed a hand at her cheek. “Will you be safe?”
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Osmont,” he said through clenched teeth.
She lifted on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Yes. He is family. He would never harm me.”
Julian knew how wrong that statement was. Sometimes family hurt you the most.
Elora and Sarah walked through the corridors of the castle, concealed in their cloaks until they came to her chambers. She opened the door. A dark figure stood near the window. She gasped.
Osmont stepped into the light from the hearth. “Did you find out how he will beat me?”
Elora sighed and narrowed her eyes. She could not believe she was related to this… cheater. She lifted her chin and threw back the hood. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to betray Julian. But if she didn’t, he would inform Edward she had been out of her room with Julian the night before. She knew she should face her punishment and refuse Osmont the information. Her shoulders sagged. But she wanted—no, needed— to see Julian again.
She had no choice. “Yes.”
Chapter Sixteen
Julian sat in his chainmail coat atop Storm, pacing the horse back and forth before the tent, waiting for his joust with Osmont. He would make Osmont pay for hurting Elora. In the past, Osmont had been an adversary. He had seen him as the man his father favored. But that had been his father’s fault, not Osmont’s.
Now, Julian saw Osmont in a different light. He was an enemy.
Baldwin stood scowling near the tent, watching Julian. His arms crossed, his gray hair sticking up straight, and his mustache in that perpetual downward slope.
Gilbert had been working with the equipment all morning. He rose from his sword duties and headed over to the side of the tent where the lances were stored.
It was almost time. Almost time for Osmont to land in the dirt where he belonged. Julian’s fists instinctively tightened around the reins. Storm responded by tossing his head, and Julian immediately relaxed his hold.
Baldwin shook his head disapprovingly. “You are not concentrating. How can you expect the horse to focus if you won’t?”
Julian knew he was right. He was holding Storm’s reins too tightly. He should be concentrating on the joust, but as much as he tried, Ellie remained a ghostly visage in the back of his mind. He marched Storm down the road to alleviate some of the tension he felt. When he raced Storm back, he saw Gilbert standing beside Baldwin, a worried expression on his plump face.
Julian reined Storm in before him, a cloud of dust following him. “What is it?”
“The lances, Julian. All of them are hacked and broken,” Gilbert explained with a hint of panic edging his tone.
“What?” Julian slid from his horse and jogged to the side of the tent. As he approached, he saw three of the lances were on the ground, and two were standing upright beside the tent. He lifted one from the grass and inspected it. Someone had taken a sword and slashed at them until they were useless. Chipped, gouged, and fragmented.
“Sabotage,” Baldwin whispered from behind him.
Julian shook his head. “It can’t be. Knights are honorable and—”
“Not all knights.”
Gilbert picked one lance out from the upright ones. “This is the only useable one left.”
Baldwin grabbed Gilbert’s tunic. “Hurry. Find more lances. Ask other knights.”
> Gilbert raced away as fast as his pudgy form would allow, disappearing between the colorful pavilions of the competing knights.
Baldwin shook his head, staring at the chipped lances. “If we had enough coin, we could buy more lances. But we have nothing, Julian. Barely enough for food for us. It cost a lot to enter this tournament.”
Julian stared down at the broken pieces of lances in the grass. “When could this have happened?”
“It must have been early this morning. You and Gilbert escorted the ladies back to the castle. I went into town.”
“Why would someone do this?”
“Why?” Baldwin asked in disbelief. “You should ask yourself who. Who would do it? The only knight who is threatened by you.”
A tingle of fury clawed its way across Julian’s nape. He looked at Baldwin. “Osmont.”
Baldwin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Sir Edward. He has the most to lose. The most to prove. He could have sent his sister as a decoy. Why else would she have been here?”
Julian glanced at the chopped lances on the ground. Elora? He shook his head, refusing to believe she would agree to become a distraction. He ran his hand over the cool wood of the only lance left. “Osmont has the most reason. He hates me. If I don’t show up at the joust, I’ll forfeit. Osmont will win. It had to have been Osmont.”
“Osmont is Edward’s cousin. Edward could be trying to give him the advantage.”
Julian swiveled to Baldwin, shoving the good lance into his hands. His jaw clenched tight; his eyes burned with resolve. He marched to Storm and swung himself up into the saddle. “Whoever it was will not succeed.” He held his hand out for the lance.
Baldwin lifted it to him. “She is their family. Be very careful what you tell her.”
Julian was confident Elora would never betray him. She would never do that. He shook his head, but doubt festered in the dark recess of his mind. He firmly pushed the disease aside and spurred Storm forward.
“Where are you going?” Baldwin called.
“To win the joust.”
“You have one lance. Julian! Julian!”
One lance was enough to win. He would not forfeit. Not to Osmont. He charged across the grassy area toward the field of honor. It made sense Osmont would have been the one to destroy his lances. But it also made sense for Edward to do it to protect Ellie and help his family.
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