The door behind him opened quickly. Heather’s children rushed inside. “She’s coming!” the girl squealed.
The boy shoved her and closed the door.
Adam locked eyes with Julian and grinned.
Julian took a deep breath, grabbed one flower from the table, and left the house, closing the door. He looked down the street. Villagers moved by the intersection. In the distance, he heard calls of merchants hawking their wares. He clutched the flower, twirling it absently as he searched for Elora.
When she appeared, she took his breath away. All sound fell away except that of Julian’s breathing. Elora walked toward him with Sarah at her side. Even the hood she wore could not hide her gorgeous golden waves. They peeked out as if desiring to see the sun. He glimpsed a sapphire silk gown below the cloak around her feet. Julian released a breath of awe. She was beautiful.
Her gaze moved from person to person until she alighted on him. Her entire face altered, lighting up with a warm, happy glow.
He couldn’t take his stare from her. He was afraid if he blinked, she would vanish. There had never been a more stunning woman. He self-consciously smoothed down his tunic as she stopped before him.
“I thought we were picnicking,” she said.
Her voice was melodic, like that of a pleasing lute. He nodded and held the flower out to her. “I thought this might be better. I didn’t want to risk anyone discovering us.”
She accepted the flower.
Was she disappointed? Unease spread through Julian. “I mean… the last thing I want to do is cause you any trouble.” She stared at him, her intense look moving through him like smoldering fire. “If we picnicked and someone saw us… I just…” He glanced at Adam.
Adam waved him inside.
Julian nodded. “I’m hoping you enjoy this just as much.” He swung the door wide.
As she stepped into the room, followed by Sarah, Elora gasped. Her examination traveled from the linked flowers on the wall and ceiling to the blossom-covered table.
“Do you like it?” Julian asked hopefully.
Adam closed the door behind them.
“It’s beautiful!” she inhaled. “How did you—”
Julian scanned the room with satisfaction, and then his stare turned to Elora. Her eyes were wide in excitement; her lips parted in amazement. A petal fell from the ceiling to land on her hood. He removed it gently from her head and then eased the hood down around her shoulders. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded, continuing to scan the small room. She waved at Heather as Sarah walked to the hearth.
He extended a hand to her to sit at the table.
Adam approached them with a flask of ale. He filled the mugs.
“Ah!” Elora exclaimed, recognizing the boy. “My dutiful knight!”
Adam bowed and then moved away to the hearth, helping Heather and the children with the food.
Elora looked at Julian suspiciously. “You had help.”
“I could not have done this by myself,” Julian admitted, looking around at the flowers draped over the table and on the ceiling. He nodded. “I had help. A lot of it.”
“It’s lovely,” Elora breathed.
Julian couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Yes. Lovely.”
She met his stare, and her cheeks reddened. She turned away and quickly took a seat at the table. “I would have enjoyed a picnic, as well.”
Julian opened his mouth. He knew it! He should have kept his original plan with the picnic. He sat beside her. “I was torn. I didn’t know which to do.”
She placed a hand on his arm, calming him. “It doesn’t matter what we do as long as I’m with you.”
Julian’s heart swelled as his hungry stare swept her. Her dazzling eyes, her kind personality. Her exquisite blonde waves framed her face. He shifted as he began to grow hard. He cleared his throat and glanced back at Heather near the hearth before looking at Elora again.
“How is your shoulder?” she wondered.
He moved it back and forth. “Sore but manageable. I owe Mace a debt of gratitude. And you for bringing him to me.”
“It was luck, really. I knew you were hurt, and he escorted me.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m glad you were not seriously hurt.” She straightened, looking down at him imperiously. “And I’m glad you kept your word about Osmont.”
He puffed out a breath. “That was a vow I would not break.”
She leaned in closer to him. “I loved seeing how angry he was. He stomped his feet like a spoiled child. It was embarrassing.”
Julian nodded, but his smile faded. “Ellie, when I was jousting him, he was guarding his left shoulder.”
“Shouldn’t he?”
Baldwin’s words rang in his head. “Be very careful what you tell her.” He had to know. Something was wrong. It festered in his mind, and he wanted to cleanse it.
“This morning when you visited me. At the river, we spoke about his flaw.”
She twirled her flower before her. “Yes. I remember. You told me it was his right shoulder.”
Julian’s gaze moved over her face. Innocent. It didn’t make sense. She knew it was Osmont’s right shoulder, and yet, he had been protecting his left. A nagging doubt tickled the back of his mind. “Did you speak to him after I told you that?”
She swallowed but would not meet his gaze. “You already defeated him once. You knew you could do it again.”
That was true. But it wasn’t an answer to his question. “Ellie.”
She dropped her hands into her lap, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Julian. I am. I shouldn’t have come to you. I shouldn’t have asked about flaws or jousts. It was none of my concern.”
“But you did.”
“Yes,” she sighed. She looked up at him, desperation shining in her large, blue eyes. “Please don’t be angry. Please.”
“You spoke to him.”
“Osmont came to me after you left and told me to find a flaw. His flaw, your flaw, he didn’t care. He wanted to know how you were going to win.”
Julian sat back, and she continued, “He said if I didn’t help him, he would tell Edward we had a rendezvous.” She looked down at the white flower in her hands. “I wasn’t ready to give you up. I wanted to see you again. And so, I did what he asked.”
Julian frowned. The cheating bastard. To put Elora, his own cousin, in that position, was disgusting. Dishonorable. Yet, she had done it. She had asked him about Osmont’s flaw. She had done what Osmont wanted.
“I should have told you,” she admitted.
Yes, she should have. He stood and turned his back to her. He couldn’t think if he looked at her. It still didn’t make sense. If she had told Osmont it was his right shoulder, why did he protect his left? “What did you tell him?”
“I told him it was his left shoulder. That you would aim for his left shoulder.”
He turned to her, scowling. “But you knew—”
“I couldn’t betray you. I could never do that. I just couldn’t…”
Julian’s gaze brushed over her bowed head, the waves of gold falling forward over her shoulders, her slumped form, the fallen flower in her lap. “You lied to him.”
She nodded. “I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again. I lied. I aided a cheater. I’m not the woman you thought.”
Stunned, Julian dropped to his knees before her, startling her by claiming her in an embrace. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care what they knew. He only cared that Elora knew he would never give her up. “Not the woman I thought? Nay. You are more. You lied to help me. You foiled a cheater’s plan. You are brave and beautiful and… So much more!” He took her face in his hands, his gaze traveling over every inch of her, devouring her with his eyes. “So much more.”
Elora’s stare swept his face as she framed it with her hands. Her eyes shimmered with longing for a moment before she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips.
It took every ounce of reserve to keep from d
eepening the kiss, to keep from running his hands over her sultry curves. Not in front of everyone. Not before the children. He repeated the refrain in his mind as his senses heightened and burned with desire. He pulled back and retook the seat beside her.
Elora glanced at the others in the room. Adam and the children were watching them from the corner. Heather and Sarah were preparing trenchers for them, grinning. She bowed her head and sighed softly.
Julian followed her stare to the others and then looked back at Elora. She lifted her head to gaze at him. There wasn’t a more seductive look in all the land. He steeled himself, mentally repeating his refrain, but the heat was inescapable. The longing intensified. Warmth flooded through his body, and his heart fluttered in his chest. He wanted to spend every moment with her. Every second. To be with her always. Lord, how had it gotten to this point?
“I wanted to give you this.” She looked to Sarah, who rushed forward, handing her an item wrapped in cloth. Elora nodded her thanks and presented it to Julian.
He took it from her hands, surprised, and eased the fabric aside. A black dagger glinted in the hearth’s firelight. It was the blade they had looked at together in the market on the first day they met, the dagger with the elaborate scrollwork on the handle. His skin prickled.
She grinned at him. “Do you like it?”
He traced the etched scrollwork slowly with his finger. “It reminds me of you.”
She beamed in happiness. “I’m glad.” She took a deep breath, placing a hand over his. “Julian, I’ve figured out a way we can be together.”
His gaze lifted from the dagger to her, and he tilted his head in curiosity.
“I spoke to your father.”
Cold chills of dread washed over him, dousing his heat and desire. It was as though someone poured a bucket of freezing water over him. He stiffened and looked away from her.
Her hand contracted around his. “He said if you take your place as his son, you will have land and title.”
Julian sat back, breaking the contact with her, and his lips thinned. He placed the dagger on the table.
“Edward would consider you for a suitor!” Elora hurriedly added. “Julian! If you do this, we can be together. We could—”
“No,” Julian stated with finality.
“No?” Elora repeated.
“I will not go back to him.”
Elora’s mouth dropped open, her gaze quickly scanning his face. “Julian, at least think about it. You would have lands and a title!”
“Is that all that is important to you?” he snapped.
Elora recoiled, her startled eyes wide. Then she closed her mouth, and sadness crept into her stare. “No. You know it’s not.”
“Then how can you ask me to do it? To go back to him? If you knew me at all, you would know that I could never do that. I can never go back.”
“We could be together,” she said weakly, reaching for his hand.
Julian shook his head, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms. “I won’t go back. Not that way. I’ll win the tournament. I’ll take prisoners at the melee. But I will not grovel to him.”
Her hand dropped, and tears filled her eyes. “You still won’t have a title or lands. It won’t be enough for Edward.”
Julian gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “My father said I was worthless. He said I could never be a good knight.” His fists clenched, and he glared fiercely. Worthless. Not good enough. He had fought his father’s accusations his entire life. His gaze searched the dirt floor for an answer, but all he could see was his father’s disapproving glare and hear his harsh words in his mind.
“No. I’ll think of something else,” he promised. He looked at her. Her crestfallen look dissolved his resolve. It broke his heart. “Ellie…” he pleaded and reached for her hand. If she didn’t believe in him—if she didn’t believe he would win her…
The door suddenly slammed open. “Julian!”
He spun to find Gilbert standing in the doorway, his pudgy brow lined with worry.
“It’s Baldwin,” Gilbert said, emphatically gesturing. “Come quickly.”
Julian stood. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”
Gilbert bent over, panting from exertion. “Hurry!”
Julian glanced at Elora. His stomach rolled with concern. He stepped to the door.
Sarah strode protectively to Elora’s side. Heather stood frozen near the hearth. Adam and the two children remained close to Heather. All their eyes were on him.
He stared at Elora. “I’m sorry. I must go. Can you get back to the citadel safely?”
She stood, clenching her hands before her as she nodded. The forgotten white flower tumbled from her lap to the floor, the dirt soiling it.
Gilbert put a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “I’ll stay and make sure they get to the citadel.”
For a quick moment, Julian stared at her in remorse. Concern glimmered in her large eyes; her full lips turned down in a pout. “Again, I’m sorry.”
Then he whirled, racing out the door to Storm. He pulled himself onto his horse’s back and spurred him off toward the camp.
Chapter Twenty
Julian rode Storm quickly through the town streets, kicking up clouds of dust in his wake. A merchant raised an angry fist to him as he passed. A different villager shouted profanity at him.
He charged out of the open gates and across the field toward his camp. He imagined Baldwin bleeding on the ground, holding his gut. He imagined his mentor scowling in pain. He saw Osmont running him through. The worst-case scenarios played out in his mind as he sped across the grass. His stomach tensed, and his hands shook. When he finally reached the tent, he dismounted, scanning for Baldwin. The camp was empty, a dying fire smoldering in the pit.
“Baldwin!” Julian called and entered the tent.
Baldwin was bent over near his sleeping mat, running a hand beneath it to search. He didn’t look up.
Julian rushed to his side. “Are you well? What happened?”
Baldwin clenched his lips together, his mustache drooping about them.
Julian looked him over. There was no large bloodstains, no obviously twisted arms, or legs. No one had run him through. Why had Gilbert been so frantic? Then he noticed a bag on the floor beside Baldwin. “What’s this?”
“You have no time for that woman if you want to be the best,” Baldwin grumbled. “And I have no time to waste training you if you are not serious.”
Julian glanced at the sack again. He didn’t understand.
Baldwin rose, and Julian stood with him. “What do you want more? To win the final joust and become the champion, or her?”
Caught off guard, Julian hesitated, his eyebrows rising in surprise.
Baldwin scoffed. “You’ve already decided.” He shook his head and bent to his sleeping mat. He grabbed his daggers and some leftover bread and shoved them inside the bag.
Julian stared in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t need me to win a woman.”
Julian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knelt at Baldwin’s side and began taking the bread out of his bag. “Don’t do that,” Julian pleaded.
Baldwin seized the bread from his hand and shoved it back in the bag. He began to roll up his sleeping mat. “I haven’t come all this way to see you lose. I wanted to train a winner. A knight who desired to be champion above all else.”
“Baldwin,” Julian pleaded, sitting on his heels. “I do want to be champion.”
“But you won’t be. Not the way you’ve been practicing. Every time she calls, you run to her, forsaking all else. A picnic for the love of St. Michael!” He shook his head, disgusted. He poked a finger into Julian’s chest. “You have to train to win.”
“I won!” Julian pointed toward the field of honor. “I’ve won all the jousts I’ve competed in.”
“And you’ve made enemies. Why aren’t you trying to discover who sabotaged your lances?”
J
ulian slouched slightly. Baldwin was right about the lances. He hadn’t even investigated the matter. He had been too worried about Osmont’s threat to Ellie.
“Your mind is always on the woman. Where is she? Is she in the stands? Is she at the citadel?” Baldwin leaned close to him. “Give up the woman.”
Stunned Baldwin would even ask him to do that, Julian stared. “You’re asking me to give up the air I breathe.”
“Pah. You’re not a romantic. You’re a knight. There will always be women.” He continued throwing items into his bag and stood. “I would win the championship joust myself, but I’m not young enough. I thought you were the one with the desire. You have the skill. But you are distracted.” He shook his head.
“Baldwin,” he pleaded. Baldwin was his mentor. His trainer, his friend. “I can’t do this without you.”
“No. You can’t.” He walked to the tent flap. “But apparently, you can’t do it with me, either. I won’t watch you fail. Give up the woman if you want to win.”
And then, he was gone.
Julian stared as the tent flap rippled and then settled. His thoughts swirled. Why would Baldwin do this? Why would he leave now? But at the same time, Julian knew why. It was Baldwin’s dream to see him become champion, as much as it was Julian’s. And Baldwin didn’t think he could win.
He stood waiting, half-expecting Baldwin to walk back through the flap at any moment. Baldwin was more than a trainer. He was the closest thing to a father that Julian had.
Julian remembered the day he met Baldwin. He’d been twelve summers. He had just had a sword fighting session with his father. Julian had held back. He never wanted to hurt his father. His father had attacked him relentlessly, calling him weak and useless, but Julian didn’t fight him. He’d defended himself against the constant onslaught of his father’s punishing blows, all the while his father’s words slashed his mind. “Weak and useless.” Tiring, he had tripped over a branch. His father had loomed over him; his lips twisted in contempt. Julian had thought his father would strike him.
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