Champion of the Heart

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Jordan didn’t hear him. She didn’t want to. All she knew was that the children would be alone and she had to reach them. She kicked at him again and landed a blow to his shin.

  They struggled, but deep down Jordan knew she could not escape by force. But she didn’t know what else to do. She continued to struggle in Fox’s hold.

  Fox pushed his body tight to hers.

  Awareness flooded through Jordan and she stopped immediately. She could feel every inch of his body, from his hard chest to his hips, all pressed very intimately to her.

  Jordan studied his face, her breathing and her heart racing from the attempted escape. He had the deepest, bluest eyes she had ever seen, so crystal clear they reminded her of a gem. His nose was straight and his lips were sensual... and so close to her own.

  What was happening to her? Suddenly, she renewed her fight, embarrassed at the feelings and thoughts he aroused in her.

  He pressed tighter until she had to succumb.

  His blue eyes scanned her face as if he could see every aspect of her soul. His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered like a caress.

  Suddenly, abruptly, he released her and stepped away from her, then stormed to the door.

  “I will do everything in my power to get away from you,” she vowed. “Everything.”

  But Fox did not stop. He slammed the door hard, making her jump slightly.

  Frustrated by her lack of control, furious at Fox for his apathy at her plight, Jordan paced the room. It was unacceptable that Fox was asking her father for titles and lands. She didn’t have the time to waste sitting here in Castle Mercer when the children had no one to watch over them. Who would comfort Ana when she had her nightmares? Who would make sure Jason didn’t feed his vegetables to the hens? Who would leave the bedroom door open for Kara?

  Abagail was getting old now. It took all her efforts to keep up with the children for just a day. How could she do it for weeks and months at a time? How would they get food?

  Jordan could not remain here. She had to get back to the children. She would not forsake them again.

  She had to escape.

  Chapter Twelve

  Beau pushed the white garment across the table toward Pick, who sat at the other end. “I did it last night,” he said.

  Pick caught the white garment and lifted it, tossing it back at Beau. “Scout did it last night. At least it’s not raining.”

  Beau caught the material and looked hopefully at Smithy sitting across the table from him.

  Smithy shook his head. “Don’t even ask,” he said gruffly and rose, moving from the room.

  A small girl shuffled in, skipping over to snatch a piece of the rock-hard bread that was on the sole table in the room.

  Beau looked at her, studying her scraggly hair, her ripped dress. Perhaps if she were older she could patrol the walkways. He sighed and shook his head, glancing at the fabric in his hands.

  “I’ll do it,” Beau heard a voice call out.

  Beau glanced up to see Fox moving toward them across the room. A relieved grin lit Beau’s face. “I knew I could count on your self-torturing soul.” Beau tossed the white material into Fox’s outstretched hand.

  “Where have you been all day?” Pick wondered, banging a piece of bread against the scarred wooden table until a chewable piece broke off.

  “Delivering a message to Vaughn,” Fox replied, removing Scout’s bow and arrow from his shoulder and placing it on the table.

  “I didn’t know your aim was that accurate,” Pick said around a mouthful of bread.

  “It didn’t have to be. I just shot the arrow into the Great Hall during the evening meal.” Fox slipped the white garment over his head. “With any luck it hit Vaughn.”

  Beau exchanged a glance with Pick, then turned to their leader. “You know, Fox,” he said, “I still don’t understand why you got yourself captured to free me. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m honored, but wouldn’t it have been better if only Pick had gotten captured? What you did was pretty risky.”

  Pick chuckled at Beau. “There goes your conscience again. It had nothing to do with rescuing you.”

  “Of course it did,” Beau corrected his big friend. “Right, Fox? You got yourself captured at the tournament as a big plot to rescue me, right?”

  But Fox was studying the white cloak that fell to the floor in long folds.

  “Right?” Doubt edged its way into Beau’s voice.

  Fox lifted the white hood and pulled it over his face. His body became completely shrouded in white fabric, his face barely visible in the dark shadow the hood threw across his face.

  “Tell him, Fox,” Pick encouraged. “Tell him why you went to Castle Ruvane at all.”

  “Guilt?” Beau suggested. “For not helping me fight the soldiers? For letting them capture me without so much as a ‘Hey, let my best man go, you dogs, or I’ll destroy you all’?”

  “No,” Fox answered immediately from deep within the hooded cloak. “I wanted to kill Vaughn.”

  Silence stretched in the room.

  “You could have taken a bit longer to come up with the answer,” Beau complained. “It’s nice to know where I stand in the order of things.”

  “The tournament was the perfect cover to face Vaughn,” Pick explained. “It was the perfect opportunity to finish that bastard off. Hell, it would have even been legal.”

  “So what the devil happened?” Beau asked. “Why isn’t the man dead?”

  Pick and Beau lifted their gazes to Fox, but he wasn’t looking at them anymore. Fox was looking up toward the north tower. “Jordan happened.”

  ***

  Yes, Jordan happened.

  Fox strolled down the walkways of the castle, careful to avoid the loosened boards above the outer gatehouse stairway. It was one of the many traps they set all over Castle Mercer, just in case.

  God’s blood, but how had it come to this? He had thought never to lay eyes on her again. And yet there she was in the north tower. His prisoner. His to do with as he wished.

  His gaze shifted again to the tall spiral of stone jutting out of the northern corner of the Keep’s roof. One slit cross-like window had been carved in the stone for the archers to use as defense many, many years ago. The window was dark, and no light would come from the room because of the large tapestry he had hung over the window. He had allowed Jordan only one small candle, her only light in the gloomy room. Even giving her that made him slightly apprehensive, but he knew no light would seep from beneath the tapestry. If it did, it would be a beacon to all looking for her.

  A pang of guilt speared his chest. She was alone in that tower. Alone in a foreign place, scared. He should at least make sure she was all right.

  The hell you say! he scolded himself, bridling at his thought. She is my prisoner. She is my enemy.

  She is so damned soft and she smells of fresh lavender. And her eyes were so large and blue and innocent that he felt all his sins and all his flaws being washed away by the purity of those eyes when he was in her presence.

  Purity? She was as guilty as he! She had abandoned him all those years ago, left him alone to become what he was. A few nights alone in that tower would not hurt her.

  He moved along the walkways again, the white robe making him nothing more than a specter in the moonlight. He and his friends had learned long ago the villagers believed Castle Mercer was empty and haunted. So they had created their own ghost, making certain he would be visible to any who dared come near the castle at night, letting the myth grow stronger and stronger. They did everything in their power to enhance the villagers’ belief in the otherworldly phantoms rumored to have taken up residence in Castle Mercer. It added another level of defense to their security precautions. They hadn’t seen a villager near the castle at night for months, if not years.

  But Fox didn’t think their little illusion would stop Vaughn’s men.

  Fox rolled his arm slightly. His wound ached tonight. It was healing nicely, but if he continued
to have to subdue Jordan by force, it would open again.

  Fox chanced a glance up at the northern tower. He wished he could subdue her soft lips in a different way. In the darkness surrounding the tower, he saw a brief flare of light. Something waved back and forth and then fell, burning as it tumbled to the ground. Fire.

  Fire! He raced across the walkways toward the Keep. What was she doing? He ran down the steps and through the inner courtyard. Another piece of burning material fell from the slit cross, its flame lighting up the night. He cursed as he pushed his way through the small opening of the Keep and ran down the hallway.

  Was she trying to burn down his home? Fox dashed up the spiral stairway, winding around and around. Or was she trying to alert someone to her whereabouts, as he had feared?

  Either way, he had to stop her.

  ***

  Jordan ripped off another piece of her dress and held it over the flame of the candle. When it ignited, she moved to the window, pushing the tapestry aside. The window was so small she could stick only her arm out of it. She moved the burning cloth back and forth, waving it like a flag, until the fire scorched her fingers and she had to drop the fabric.

  She then reached down and gathered her skirts in her hands. She was about to rip off another strand when the door exploded open.

  A ghostly specter stood before her all in white, fire burning from his eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jordan scrambled back, moving away from the demon as he entered the room, knocking over a table in her panic and spilling the basin of water across the floor. The legends are true! her mind screamed. This castle is haunted! And the ghosts are coming for me!

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Fox roared.

  From her prone position on the floor, Jordan stared up at the apparition hovering before her, but then quickly noticed that this “ghost” was wearing brown leather boots and it had a voice uncannily similar to a voice she had come to know very well over the last day. Jordan’s fear faded as she realized Fox stood before her. She climbed unsteadily to her feet.

  “Doing?” she finally manage to echo, still trembling from the mental picture of the demon who crashed through the door in his hurry to get to her.

  Fox threw back his hood, and his gaze shifted from her to the window and then to the candle. He turned back to her, piercing her with an accusing stare.

  Jordan followed his stare, and then lifted her chin in defiance. “Did you expect me to sit around like a helpless damsel and wait to be rescued?”

  His eyes narrowed and he approached her, moving swiftly until he stood just before her. “I see my mistake now.”

  Jordan moved away from him until her back came up against a wall. Heat radiated from his body as he drew nearer.

  He grabbed her wrist. “I should have bound you from the beginning.”

  Jordan gaped at him, her mouth dropping in shock. She twisted her wrist in a vain attempt to free herself.

  “Is that what you want?” he demanded, pulling her closer until she was mere inches from him. “Do you want to be gagged and tied?”

  Jordan struggled, pulling at her arm, pushing against his chest.

  In one swift move, he twisted her arm around to her back, bringing her face closer to his. “Is it?” he demanded. His eyes burned with rage, his lips pulling back in a feral snarl, revealing tightly clenched teeth.

  Jordan stopped her struggles, instantly aware of his closeness. It was inappropriate. It was uncomfortable. It was...

  Her eyes drifted down to his lips. Sensual lips calling to her. And for a moment, she forgot everything except how close his lips were. How would they feel pressed against hers? She lifted her eyes to his and lost herself in them, floating in those deep pools of clear blue.

  Fox released her arm slightly and placed a hand to her back, pulling her even closer to him. His gaze swept her face. Each look, each caress, sent warmth spiraling down to her stomach.

  Jordan felt a heat flame to life inside her. What was happening? What was this feeling? It was so... comfortable and anticipatory. It was a feeling she didn’t want to stop, one that needed more.

  Then Fox suddenly stepped back. It was as if a wall had been erected, forcibly thrust between them.

  Jordan felt lost for a moment, disoriented.

  Fox took another step back. He scowled slightly and dropped his gaze, looking just as baffled as she felt. “I will not bind you this time.” He struggled to recover his composure as best he could.

  Jordan wanted to say something to him, but she felt unsure and awkward. Any words she uttered now would sound foolish.

  He grabbed the candle from the table. “But you will give me your word you will not attempt something so foolhardy again.”

  Jordan stared at him as he waited for her response. How could she give him what he wanted? How could she tell him she would not try to escape when she knew she had to reach the children? “I will not attempt something so foolhardy again,” she repeated. Because next time it will be more than just an attempt. Next time I will succeed.

  Fox’s eyes narrowed. He studied her for a long moment.

  Jordan lifted her chin.

  “You want to return to Vaughn that much?”

  Jordan thought she heard a note of absolute amazement in his tone, but she couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t exactly sure how to answer. It wasn’t Evan she needed to return to, but she did not want to tell Fox that. She did not want to give him any more information to use against her.

  Her hesitation was enough of an answer for Fox. His jaw clenched and he blew out the candle. “Then you are not to be trusted,” he said from within the darkness.

  His footsteps moved toward the door. Fear crept through her as the thick blackness surrounded her. “Fox,” she called out, afraid to take a step away from the wall and yet afraid to remain standing where she was in the utter darkness.

  His steps hesitated, finally faltering.

  “Is the castle really haunted?” she asked in nothing short of a whisper.

  Silence stretched in the room until Jordan thought she heard the groan of an ancient ghost moaning right beside her. In the distance, she swore she heard metal clanking. The wooden floor creaked nearby. Then a waft of air brushed against the hairs on her neck. Or was that the breath of a spirit?

  “Only by my memories,” Fox finally said softly, sadly. Then, the door opened and he was gone, sealing her in the darkness.

  ***

  “Lands and titles! God’s blood, does he believe I am the king?” Evan roared, pacing the small stone room in Castle Ruvane. Weathered parchments bound in leather filled the shelves in the room. A candle burned on a plate on a small table near the bookshelves.

  “Give him the lands, Evan,” James Ruvane said quietly. He stared down at the piece of parchment laid out before him on the wooden table.

  “No!” Evan exploded. “I will see Mercer rot before –”

  “She is my daughter, Vaughn, and I will do everything in my power to protect her.”

  “Jordan is my betrothed. But I will not give Mercer –”

  “They will kill her!” James exclaimed. “Is her life worth a decrepit haunted castle and some useless lands?”

  Evan ground his teeth.

  “You don’t give a rat’s ass about those lands. Your father never did and you never have either. Give him the lands!”

  Evan dropped his head and paused before a tapestry of a hunt hanging on the wall. He studied the embroidered tableau, looking at the men on horseback, the dogs giving chase to a fleeing fox. Evan gritted his teeth. “It is not that I care about the lands. It’s Mercer. He’s been like a festering wound that refuses to close.”

  James could see the anguish Evan was going through, could feel it himself. The Black Fox had given both of them plenty of headaches over the years, more times than he cared to remember. “I know, Evan,” he said softly, soothingly. “I know how you feel about Fox. But we must get Jordan back. At any cost. She’s the only c
hild I have.” He stood, placing his hands behind his back, and stared out the window at the half-moon shimmering faintly in the night sky. “The king has called me to court. I must leave on the morrow.” He turned to Evan. “I am entrusting her safety to you. You must get her back.”

  Evan nodded and turned to James. “I will get her back.” He strolled over to the table and stared down at the note. “I am to meet him at the Harvest Moon Inn.” He picked up the paper.

  “Do not mistake the Black Fox for a fool, Evan,” James said. “If you risk my daughter’s life for some misguided notion of vengeance against him, or to heal your wounded pride, I will wage war with you. Do you understand?” His expression was grim as he spoke, his intent to follow through on his threat deadly serious.

  Evan nodded again. “Do not fear, Lord Ruvane. I will see Jordan safely back to your side.” He crumpled the ransom parchment in his hand. “This I promise.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, sitting before the cold hearth of the meal room, Fox could not stop thinking about Jordan. The sight of her. The smell of her. The feel of her. Damn, he thought, trying to erase the lingering sensation of her body pressed to his, trying to forget the scent of fresh lavender that surrounded her, trying to wipe away the image of her magnificent eyes staring woefully up at him with such innocence. Despite his best efforts, the memory of her sweet scent overpowered him, filling his senses. He was so used to the smell of sweat and hard work; her scent had been so refreshing, so womanly, so powerful.

  He gritted his teeth, staring into the mug of ale he gripped in both hands. His reflection swirled around in the golden liquid. Haunted eyes stared back up at him.

  Were there ghosts in the castle? he thought, echoing Jordan’s question in his mind. Yes. Yes, there were. And he knew his family was one of them. A mere shadow of what it used to be. He was one of them, too. A mere shadow of what he, as a boy, had always imagined he would become. He was supposed to be lord of this castle. Now he was nothing more than an outcast on his own lands.