A Dark Champion

by Kinley MacGregor

  "You're jealous," Damien had hissed. "I am worth more than ten of you." And so Damien had announced his titles to all present.

  The Saracen leader had laughed aloud as he spoke to his men in a language none of them had known at that time. Damien had been taken and thrown across the back of a horse. He and the leader had ridden off while the rest of them had been marched across the desert to the camp where they had banded together with other captives.

  God and Damien alone knew what the Saracens had done to make him pay for that arrogance. In Europe, Damien's position guaranteed him only the best of accommodations and care. At the hands of a nomadic race sworn to the eradication of a foreign army in their lands, such knowledge usually guaranteed death by impalement.

  The look in Damien's eyes as they fought today had told Stryder that Damien would much rather have met that fate than whatever one he'd been given.

  "Are you addled?" Christian asked as Stryder took the cup from his hands and downed the contents in one gulp.

  "Can you hear me?"

  Stryder shook his head to clear it of the past as he realized his friends had been asking him a multitude of questions.

  "I am…" He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't. Not while he doubted everything about himself and his family.

  Kit never spoke of the past. Never. Since the night Stryder had found him in Canterbury, his brother had refused to speak of the years they had spent apart.

  But then Kit never spoke much of anything personal. Considering the pain of his own past, Stryder had never pressed the issue with him.

  "Damien was lying."

  "About what?"

  Stryder hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until Nassir had asked his question.

  "Nothing," he said, making his way to his cot.

  As he lay down upon it, Rowena and Zenobia rejoined them.

  Rowena rushed to his side and brushed his hand away from the cloth so that she could inspect his wound.

  Stryder closed his eyes and took comfort in the sensation of her hands on his cool flesh. He took comfort in the care he saw in her green eyes.

  She was beautiful in her concern for him.

  Unconsciously, he reached out and ran his hand through her long blond hair, letting it wrap around his fingers. It instantly soothed the fears inside him. The horror that he might have left his own beloved brother in the hands of his enemies.

  "I need a bowl of wine and thread," she said to Nassir. "This wound needs be stitched."

  Then she looked at Stryder and something inside him shattered. No woman had ever held such a look on her face when she stared at him. He hardened instantly. His entire body burned for a taste of her lips even while it ached from his injuries.

  "I think he's been addled by that strike to his head," Swan said from behind them. "Look at him there."

  "Aye," Val agreed. "His mind is not as it should be. Mayhap we should beat some sense back into him."

  Stryder didn't care what his men thought. His mind wasn't addled. It was clear. Perfectly clear.

  For the first time in his life, he understood some of what his father had felt for his mother. Understood the desire to just sit and watch a woman do the simplest of things while he ached for her.

  But it changed nothing.

  Damien. Aquarius. Kit. His men. They were what he lived for. They reminded him daily of the fact that he could never tie himself to his lands. So long as a child suffered, he had to do whatever he could to see that child home.

  He could never rest. Never.

  No matter how much his heart might wish otherwise.

  He tore his gaze from Rowena to find Kit standing to the back of his men. A stern frown lined his brother's brow.

  In all the time they had been in prison, Aquarius had refused to speak of his family. He had said nothing personal. Not even how he'd come to be taken.

  All the child had wanted was to go home.

  Could that boy have really been Kit?

  Kit had been homeless when Stryder had found him. Their half-brother, Michael, had said nothing other than Kit had returned and then Michael had thrown Kit out. At the time Stryder had been too angry to ask where Kit had returned from.

  Now he wished he had.

  There were no marks on his brother's hands. Not like the ones that had been branded into the hands of the Brotherhood.

  Nay. Kit couldn't be Aquarius. His brother loved him. Of that he held no doubt. Damien had promised him that Aquarius hated him and the boy would have every right to.

  But there was no hatred on his brother's face as Kit watched him. Only concern showed in his blue eyes.

  Damien had planted that seed there to hurt him. To weaken him. Even as a child, Damien had always known how to wound well with his tongue.

  Saying something didn't make it true.

  "Stryder?"

  He turned his gaze to Rowena, who was watching him closely. "Are you all right?"

  "Aye," he said, offering her a small smile as he let his hand fall away from her hair. "I wasn't expecting to face Damien in this contest."

  Val shoved at Swan. "I told you we should have warned him."

  "Nay, you did not!" Swan snapped back.

  "I appreciate your looking out for my best interest," Stryder said to his men. "But in the future, I would appreciate a little warning on such matters."

  They all looked about guiltily.

  "But no harm was done. Let us think no more about it."

  Swan and Val nodded and left the tent while Rowena set about stitching his side.

  Grimacing at the pain, Stryder watched her delicate stitches. She took great care not to hurt him any more than was necessary.

  "You're very good at that for a lady who hates war."

  "Men are wounded for other reasons," she said quietly. " 'Us a talent my mother said all women should possess."

  Zenobia clapped, then rubbed her hands together. "I think Rowena is able to care for Stryder. What say the rest of us go and seek out our killer?"

  Kit and Nassir nodded. Christian balked. "I think it an ill notion to leave them alone."

  Nassir snorted at that, then grabbed Christian's arm and hauled him for the entrance. "Stryder is a man full grown, Abbot. The last thing he needs is to be hounded by us."

  "But—"

  "Come," Nassir said, pulling him from the tent.

  Zenobia gave them a knowing glance. "Rest easy, Stryder. I shall make sure that the two of you are not disturbed."

  Zenobia closed and secured the front of the tent.

  "Not disturbed from what?" Rowena asked as she moved away from stitching him.

  "From this," Stryder said, pulling her close so that he could finally taste the honey of her lips.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  Rowena moaned at the strength of Stryder's kiss. And to think she had actually feared for him this day. But there was far too much power in that kiss for him to be seriously injured.

  Nay, her knight was fine.

  He pulled her onto his cot, over his chest to cradle her gently in his arms.

  She broke their kiss off instantly. "Careful, milord, you'll hurt yourself."

  "I care not," he breathed, pulling her lips back to his so that he could ravage her senses.

  Her heart leapt at his words and at the feel of his tongue sweeping against hers. The warm, manly scent of him filled her head as she swept her hands over the steely biceps that flexed and beckoned her with power.

  What was it about this man that made her feel like this? It made her shivery, hot, and needful. Ever longing to be close to him when she knew deep in her heart that he posed the biggest danger to everything she wanted out of life.

  She ran her hand over the muscles of his chest, feeling the way his flesh rippled and flexed under her palm.

  Stryder took her hand into his and led it down the length of his body until she touched his rigid shaft.

  "I dreamt of you all last night, Rowena," h
e breathed raggedly in her ear. "Of you touching me again."

  She moaned at the sound of his voice and the feel of him in her hand. She ran her fingers to the tip of him where he was already wet. A shiver went through him that she felt with the whole of her body.

  She found it hard to believe that this man who could kill could be so tender with her. That he could hold her like this and make her entire body burn for him.

  Yet he did. He made her breathless and weak. And at the same time, he made her feel as if she could fly.

  "I'm so glad you weren't killed."

  "Are you?"

  She nodded while she stared into those captivatingly blue eyes. "I never knew I could pray so hard for one knight to pummel another."

  He opened his mouth to speak.

  "Or for any man," she said before he could say a word.

  He nibbled her lips with his teeth as he slid his hands down her back, to her hips. Rowena didn't protest him sliding her skirts up until he bared her bottom to his questing hands. She groaned deep in her throat as his hand found the part of her that throbbed for him.

  Stryder clenched his teeth at the sweet moisture of her that coated his fingers. He shouldn't even be thinking of taking her. Especially not now, when his mission was so clear.

  But he couldn't resist her. He needed to be inside her right now in a way he didn't understand. He had to have her and he would kill anyone who tried to interrupt them.

  Ignoring the pain of his wound, he pulled her gently into his lap and slid himself deep inside her waiting warmth. He closed his eyes and just savored the feeling of her.

  He could stay inside this woman forever. There was some foreign, inner calm he felt whenever she was near him. It was as if he could find no fault with the world.

  No fault with himself.

  It was a tranquility he'd never imagined could exist.

  Rowena gasped at the fullness of Stryder inside her body. What she felt for him terrified her. What they were doing was madness when both of them wanted to be free.

  And yet she was helpless against her body's ravenous need for him. Her heart's desire to be near him. To soothe this man whose eyes were always tormented, like a stormy sea forever bereft of sunshine.

  He guided her with his hands, showing her how to make love to him from above. Her rich blue dress pooled around them, trailing to the ground.

  She watched his face closely and wondered if her own features mirrored the pleasure he gave her. His breathing was rapid as he bit his lip and growled while his hands urged her to move faster.

  "That's it, love," he whispered as she found a rhythm that pleased them both.

  Stryder cupped her face in his hands while he let her thrust for both of them. It was all he could do not to tear her gown from her until her body was bared to him so that he could touch her all over. Sate the longing he had to stare at her lush curves until he was drunk from it. However, the last thing he wanted was for her to be embarrassed anymore than was necessary should someone interrupt them. He trusted Zenobia could give them privacy.

  But just in case…

  Rowena turned her face in his hands and kissed the inside of his wrist. His heart quickened at the gesture.

  She was marvelous. Truly, an unexpected pleasure.

  He felt her body tighten against his shaft as she quickened her strokes. A smile played at the edges of his mouth as she came for him.

  It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever beheld. Her cries of pleasure filled his ears and warmed him through and through.

  Pulling her down to his lips, he swallowed those cries before anyone else heard them and lifted his hips, driving himself even deeper into her body.

  He could feel her heart pounding against his chest as he held her and thrust faster until he found his own release while she kissed him deeply and fully.

  Hissing in pleasure, he savored the sensation of her wet heat until his body was completely drained and sated. There was nothing on this earth like his nymph.

  No one could ever compare to her. Nor could any give him a more blissful moment.

  Rowena rested herself on her elbows so that she could stare down at Stryder. She kissed her way along the edge of his whiskered jaw and simply inhaled the warm, masculine scent of him.

  "Did I hurt you?" she asked, worried about his wound and the bruises that were forming along his body.

  "Nay, lady. It would take much more than your mere weight to harm me."

  Rowena lay herself down upon his chest, her cheek to his heart, which pounded and soothed her while he toyed with her hair. He lifted his other hand to trace the line of her nose.

  "You are so soft."

  She placed a kiss over his heart, then moved so that she could look up at him. "You are not."

  He smiled down at her, his eyes hot and searing. "Tell me why I can't resist you, Rowena. You write of love and desire. Why do I desire you when all my reason tells me I shouldn't?"

  "If I knew the answer to that, then I would understand why I'm here with you when I shouldn't be." Biting her lip, she pulled back from him. "What are we doing, Stryder?"

  "I think we're falling in love."

  Silence hung between the two of them as those words echoed in the quiet stillness.

  Rowena knew the truth of it. She felt it with every part of her and it made her want to run away in terror.

  His jaw flexed as his fingers brushed against her cheek. "And I can't afford to love you, milady. I can't."

  "I know. And I don't want to love a man I can never keep. One who will never be content to lay aside his sword in the name of peace and live tranquilly by my side."

  He sighed at her words. "Nay. I can never lay aside my sword. Not so long as children like Damien are out there being hurt. And it's not just the Saracens who harm them. We free just as many of their children who are held by our people as we do our children being held by them. I can see no end to this war and until I do, I have no choice except to do everything I can to help those who are suffering."

  "You can't save the world, Stryder."

  "If I save one person, then I have saved their world. Homes are not built of one single slab, but rather they are made of hundreds of stones. If one stone is crushed, then the entire house is compromised, if not ruined. I might not save them all, but I have to save as many as I can."

  And that was what she loved most about him. "I want you to win this war you fight."

  Stryder kissed her lips, then withdrew from inside her. He moved to the side so that she lay beside him on the narrow cot. He cuddled her tenderly as he covered them with the blanket.

  "I wish you could win yours, Rowena. I wish asking for peace was as simple as you singing one of your songs."

  Rowena glanced down to where his wound was red and swollen. She ached for him. Just as she ached for herself. "So what are we to do?"

  "We shall have to avoid each other as much as possible."

  Tears welled in her eyes as she noted the deadness of his own. The last thing she wanted was to not see him. "What of the tournament? If you win, you will have to marry me. How can you win the song competition if we don't see each other?"

  "I can have Kit teach me something so that I will win your contest. You will have your freedom of choice, my lady. I swear it."

  And what if I want you? She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. If she had a choice, 'twould be the one thing she would want.

  The only husband she would want.

  But that was a whimsical dream and well she knew it. Stryder of Blackmoor was beyond the reach of any lady. So long as his quest beckoned him, he would never settle down.

  "Very well then." Rowena forced herself to get up and adjust her dress. If they could no longer see each other, there was no need in her torturing either one of them further.

  It was best to leave now while she could almost bear the thought.

  Although, to be honest, the pain in her chest wasn't really bearable. It hurt and it cut. She didn't want to
leave him, but just as he had said, she understood why it was necessary.

  She only hoped the agony inside her ebbed eventually. Perhaps she might even one day find another to love…

  Nay, there would never be another who could mean as much to her as Stryder did. But some things weren't meant to be, and their relationship was one of them.

  Stryder braced himself for the sudden coldness of his body as she withdrew from him. It was for the best, and yet his soul cried out for him to hold her close.

  Then he did the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He watched as she made her way out of his tent.

  Stryder pressed his hand to his eyes and cursed beneath his breath. How had this happened? How had he allowed a mere slip of a termagant to slide into his well-guarded heart?

  And yet she wasn't a shrew. If she were, she would never have conquered him so skillfully. She was merely a woman of great convictions. Bold, intelligent, and determined. All traits he admired.

  Now she was gone.

  Pain the likes of which he'd never known consumed his heart.

  "You have to be the greatest fool in all of Christendom," Zenobia said as she entered his tent. "Nay, you are the greatest fool in all the world."

  Without uncovering his eyes, he growled at her. "Leave me be, Zen. I've no patience for you at present."

  "Good, for I have none for you, either. Never have I suffered fools gladly."

  To his complete astonishment, she came over and slapped him across his good ribs.

  Stryder grimaced at the unexpected pain and moved his arm so that he could glare up at her. "What are you doing?"

  "Be grateful you're injured. That alone keeps me from taking my sword and giving you the thrashing you deserve."

  He snorted at her threat. " 'Twould take more than you to do me harm."

  "Mayhap, but not with the anger I hold at present. How could you allow Rowena to leave you?"

  His gut tightened at the thought, even though his head understood the reason. "It's for the best."

  She slapped his side again.

  "Have you gone mad?" he asked, rubbing his ribs.

  "Nay, but methinks you have. You love that woman. So why are you pushing her away?"