Champion of the Heart

by Laurel O'Donnell

  He stiffened at her cold tone. “If you’ll kindly excuse us, we are in the middle of a business transaction. I’m not in need of your services.”

  The woman didn’t budge. “If it’s business, then you can talk to me as well. Jared and I are partners.”

  Slane darted a glance at Jared, who nodded, an amused look crinkling his eyes. “I’m only hiring you,” he said to Jared.

  “We come together or not at all,” Jared replied.

  Slane turned his thoughtful gaze to her. She responded with a chilly glare. He turned back to Jared. “Fine. But I don’t intend to pay any more than I did before.”

  “For the work of two?” the woman objected.

  Slane crossed his arms. “Take it or leave it.”

  He watched her shoulders sink as she sighed and glanced at Jared, who nodded once. “What’s the job?” she asked.

  Slane leaned across the table. “I’m looking for a ring. Two swords crossed under an S.”

  Jared and the girl sat motionless for a long moment, then looked at each other. Suddenly, the woman began to laugh.

  “What is so funny?” Slane snapped.

  She met his solemn look with amusement. “This is going to be the easiest coin we’ve ever worked for,” she replied.

  Slane frowned quizzically. “You know where it is?”

  She nodded and began to rise, but Slane grabbed her arm, halting her movement. “Look, woman. If you know where it is, tell me. We can begin and end your employment right here.”

  She hesitated for a moment casting an unreadable look at Jared. “Sully,” she finally said, her lips curving up in a grin. With her swollen lip, the smile was more grotesque than appealing. “My name is Sully, not woman.”

  ***

  Taylor leaned against a wall and crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded Slane out of curious eyes. What could he possibly want with her mother’s ring? They had been traveling together for half a day now and he hadn’t spoken one more word about it

  He glanced at her and she smiled brilliantly through her cut and fattened lips. He scowled and turned away.

  At least he’s consistent, she thought. Her gaze shifted to Jared, who was speaking earnestly with a large man -- a man who was almost as tall as Slane but with a much less flattering physique. His belly flopped over his breeches; the muscles in his arms were slack. Jared had sensed he was the town gossipmonger the second he laid eyes on him. And as usual, Jared was right. The large man looked at her and smiled, then glanced back at Jared and spoke quickly to him.

  Taylor shifted slightly. “This ring must be very important to rouse you from the comfort of Castle Donovan.”

  “Yes,” Slane answered stiffly.

  “No more tournaments to play in?” she quipped.

  He stared curiously at her.

  She cast him a wry look. It was like speaking to a wall. A well-muscled wall, with long, glorious blond hair, but a wall nonetheless.

  Jared and the man headed over to them, Jared wearing the same exasperated expression he always wore when some man would insist on propositioning her. Taylor shook her head. They never learned. Or were there just too many to teach?

  “He says he won’t give me any information unless you bed him,” Jared explained.

  As a large, eager grin split the man’s lips, Slane’s eyes widened in outrage.

  Taylor pushed herself from the wall, placing a hand on Slane’s chest to quiet him. “I’m used to it,” she said.

  “You’re not thinking –” Slane began, but Taylor turned her attention to Jared.

  “You offered him a gold coin?”

  Jared shrugged slightly. “Two,” he said.

  Taylor smiled at the large man. “You know, you’re being quite unreasonable about this,” she told him. “All we need is information. You’ve seen the ring?”

  The man nodded. “I’ve seen it. But that’s all you’ll get from me unless I see some action.”

  “Action?” Taylor repeated. “Is that all you want?” She half turned to Slane, clenched her fist, and turned back to the man, ramming her balled fingers into his stomach.

  The man doubled over. Taylor shoved the brutish lout backward over Jared’s carefully positioned foot and he slammed into the ground. Taylor whipped out her dagger and held it to the man’s neck. “Is this the type of action you wanted?” she asked.

  The man fought back the urge to swallow as Taylor pressed the side of the blade against his throat.

  “All we want is a little information about the ring. I know that you’ll be very accommodating, won’t you?” Taylor eased the tip slightly from the man’s neck.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” the man gasped.

  “Out with it,” she ordered.

  “They went toward Briarwood,” he gasped. “I swear that’s all I know. They rode north!”

  Taylor paused for a long moment. She knew he was too shocked and scared to lie. Still, she liked the feeling of this slime groveling in the dirt. “Maybe next time you’ll think before you insult a woman,” she said and slowly stood up.

  The man sat up, putting his hands to his throat, eyeing her with hatred.

  Jared joined her, standing protectively behind her.

  Finally, the man narrowed his eyes, stood and scrambled away.

  Taylor’s lips quirked up in a grin of satisfaction.

  “I bet you make a lot of friends that way,” Slane said and moved toward the stables.

  “No one needs friends like that,” Taylor retorted, casting one last glance at the man’s retreating back before following Slane.

  “Good job,” Jared congratulated as he trailed after the duo.

  ***

  Slane rode behind Sully and Jared. His gaze lingered on the woman, this enigmatic Sully. Her long, braided black hair swung back and forth over her cuir-bouilli armor. The hard leather armor had been worked and shaped to fit her tiny figure. And the leather maker had done an admirable job. It fit her very well indeed. She wore black leggings beneath her armor. Black boots hid her calves. The sword strapped to her waist continued to catch his attention every time he glanced at her. He had rarely seen a woman with a blade and wondered how good she was at wielding the weapon.

  It was a shame he probably wouldn’t have time to find out. He turned his concentration back to his mission.

  The Sullivan woman.

  He was certain that once he found the ring, he would find the girl and his search would be over. He wondered what she looked like. Had eight years on her own taken their toll? Was she haggard and gaunt from lack of food and working too hard? Did she look older than her twenty years? He knew she had dark hair. But that was all he knew of her.

  His eyes shifted to the two horses before him as one of the animals snorted. Sully smiled at Jared in a private joke and spurred her horse on to take the lead. Slane wondered if Sully and Jared were lovers. And if they were, how could he have let her get beaten like that? How on earth had she gotten those cursed bruises? Why, if Sully were his woman, he would never let anyone hurt her. He would kill anyone who laid a hand on Elizabeth.

  He sighed, thinking of Elizabeth waiting for him at her home in Bristol. He had sent word with his best man, John Flynn, that he would be delayed. He knew John would watch over Elizabeth and protect her while he was away. He wouldn’t be long. Not with the best tracker this side of France in his employ.

  Slane nudged his horse and took up step beside Jared, turning his head to regard the mercenary. He was indeed old. There were deeply shadowed wrinkles around his eyes and his skin sagged around his cheeks. He glanced up ahead at Sully. What could she see in this old man? What kind of pleasure could he show her? And then another thought occurred to Slane. Perhaps they weren’t lovers. Perhaps their relationship was more of a father watching over a daughter.

  “We’re coming to Briarwood,” Jared announced.

  “Are you sure the ring is here?” Slane asked.

  “Look,” Jared said, “you’re paying me t
o track. That’s what I’m doing. I’ll find the ring. Don’t doubt that.”

  Slane nodded, satisfied. They rode in silence for a few moments, the hot sun beating down on their shoulders. “You used to work for lord Sullivan, did you not?” He felt Jared’s gaze turn to him.

  “Aye,” Jared replied. “A long time ago.”

  “Tell me of the girl,” Slane ordered.

  “The girl?”

  “Taylor Sullivan,” Slane clarified. “What did she look like?”

  “That was a long time ago,” Jared replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “I was surprised she ran away. Didn’t think she had it in her.”

  Slane looked steadily at Jared, not saying anything. After a moment of silence, Jared added, “I suppose when your mother dies, you do impulsive things.”

  “So you haven’t seen her since then?”

  “No,” Jared said. “Don’t know if I’d recognize her anymore.”

  “What do you remember of her?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Slane watched Jared’s knuckles tighten on the reins of his horse. He had no intention of telling him his reasons. Not with his unusual behavior. “Just curious.”

  Jared looked at him then, and Slane swore he saw hostility in his blue eyes. But then it was gone. “She was a fat, lazy thing, from what I remember,” Jared said. “There was one pretty thing about her. She had the most brilliant blond hair that I’ve ever seen. Almost like gold.”

  “Golden hair,” Slane murmured. “Indeed.” He allowed his horse to fall behind. As he studied Jared’s back for a long moment, Slane’s eyes narrowed slightly. Why would Jared lie? What was he hiding?

  ***

  Taylor walked back and forth before Jared, who sat beneath a tall tree. With each step, her muscles stretched and she almost groaned in delight. After such a long ride, it felt good to be off the horse. She paused to glance over her shoulder at the stream, where the horses drank, to see Slane bent over near the water, splashing his face.

  “What do you think he wants with the ring?” Taylor wondered.

  Jared snorted. “Don’t know,” he said, lifting a flask of ale to his lips. He lowered the bag and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then offered the flask to Taylor. “But that’s not all he’s interested in.”

  Taylor took the flask and lifted it to her lips. The refreshing ale slid down her dust-filled throat.

  “He was asking about you,” Jared whispered.

  Taylor lowered the flask and shifted her startled gaze to Jared. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. She returned her gaze to Slane. He was standing now, stretching, reaching toward the sky with his arms.

  “What did you tell him?” Taylor asked.

  Jared chuckled. “That you were a fat, lazy girl with blond hair.”

  Taylor lifted an amused eyebrow. “And he believed you?”

  “They don’t know you like I do,” Jared said, chortling deeply.

  She squatted beside her friend and handed back the flask. “Do you think Father sent him?”

  Jared’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Slane. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “All I know is I don’t like him.” His gaze turned to Taylor. “So stay away from him. You hear?”

  “You know me, Jared,” Taylor said, standing. “I don’t court trouble.”

  Jared groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.

  Taylor walked across the small clearing toward the horses. Slane was checking his animal’s bridles and straps, and she watched his strong shoulders and golden head over the horse’s back. How many stories she had heard about him! Lord Slane Donovan of Castle Donovan winning the tournament at Warwickshire. Then the tournament at Glavindale. Then another tournament. And there were the great battles, fighting at the King’s side. She shrugged. It all seemed so unreal to her. She had just turned away when his soft voice reached her.

  “Where was Jared when you got those bruises?”

  Taylor turned slowly. “Jared is not my protector,” she said. “I am a free woman and I do as I please.”

  He lifted his gaze to her, and she was suddenly startled at how blue his eyes were. Then those tawny brows slanted over his eyes, and he returned his concentration to his horse.

  He had dismissed her without a word! Exasperation filled her. But in that exasperation was a sense of victory. For the woman he sought stood face-to-face with him and he didn’t even know it!

  A Knight of Honor

  Available Now!

  The Lady and the Falconer Bonus Preview

  With her father at war and her stepmother ruling the castle with disinterest, Lady Solace Farindale protects her people the best she can. When a neighboring lord lays siege to the castle, a threat on the lady’s life is discovered. She turns to a man she can’t resist, and puts her trust in a stranger who has captured her heart. Will she discover the secret this man holds before it is too late?

  Tormented by guilt and a tragic past, Logan Grey has gained access to the castle disguised as a falconer. With only revenge on his mind, he has no time for the feisty beauty who has caught his eye. In a twist of fate, and a deadly betrayal, Logan must risk his life for the lady who ignited a passion more perilous than war.

  Can love reign in a place where only hate ruled?

  The Lady and the Falconer is an exciting medieval romance filled with action, intrigue, suspense and a desire that defies every sinister obstacle put in its path.

  The Lady and the Falconer - Prologue

  England, 1373

  “Ready or not, here I come!” a young girl’s voice cried out in the distance.

  Solace Farindale pressed a hand over her mouth and giggled, scrunching lower behind three bales of hay. She didn’t know where her friend Gwen was hiding because as soon as Helen had begun counting, she’d run into the barn and dove behind the hay. Lillian, her maidservant, would no doubt be angry that she had dirtied her new velvet dress, but Solace couldn’t resist such a perfect hiding place. The sweet smell of straw filled her nose, and several strands tickled her back as she settled into her spot. She loved coming to visit Helen on her farm. She and Gwen had begged their fathers to let them go, just for the afternoon, and after much pleading the men had reluctantly agreed. It was half a morning’s ride from Gwen’s home, but well worth it.

  Finally, after a brief moment of expectant waiting, Solace peeked through a slit between the hay bales. The barn was empty. Several stalls that used to house horses now stood vacant. Solace knew Helen’s parents had to sell the beasts off because their crops had yielded a poor harvest last year. Solace scanned the narrow area of the barn that she could see through the opening, but there was still no sign of Helen. She shrugged and settled back to wait.

  Then she heard the barn door creak open. Her eyes widened and again she placed a hand over her mouth as she slid lower behind the hay, afraid her giggles would give her away. But there was no scurry of searching feet, no calls of her name.

  Solace shifted and peered through the slit between the hay bales. She glimpsed a woman grabbing a rusty bucket from the ground and carrying it to an empty stall across from her. It was only Helen’s mother, Anne. Solace’s gaze flew to the door. Where is Helen? she wondered.

  Anne placed the bucket on the ground next to a small pile of seeds. She scooped up a handful with her cupped palm and dumped them into the bucket.

  “Good afternoon, Anne,” a man called out. His deep, guttural voice gave the greeting a harshness that belied the innocence of his words.

  Solace heard Anne gasp and she tilted her head, leaning closer to the narrow opening between the bales. She saw two men dressed in chain mail lurking near the door and one man standing inside the barn. She nervously twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger as a feeling of fear engulfed her. The tall man wasn’t a good man. She could sense the evil in him, as if a dark cloud belonged over his head. His hair was immaculate, styled in a fashionable bowl-cut, black as the night. The red velvet of his jupon was tailored to his chest
and arms, padded somewhat at the chest and shoulders to accent their broadness. The collar reached all the way to his neck. He had the coldest blue stare she had ever seen.

  “Lord Randol,” Anne greeted with a slight bow.

  Randol sauntered closer to her. “Looks like you’ve kept the barn in good order.”

  “It’s our living, m’lord. We take good care of our things.”

  “Perhaps you should take as good care of your lord,” he grumbled. “Where’s your husband?”

  “In the fields, of course, m’lord,” she replied.

  Solace watched lord Randol nod as if he already knew what Anne would say. “I’m here for my taxes, Anne.”

  “M’lord, my husband explained to you that the rains and the flooding have washed out most of the crops.”

  “You’re three months behind in your payments, Anne,” Randol interjected.

  Solace saw Anne wring her hands and she sensed something terrible was coming, but she didn’t know what to do.

  “I realize that, m’lord,” Anne said. “But we have nothing to pay you with. You have all our animals. We have no coin, no –”

  “Coin is not what I’m asking for.” He reached out and ran a finger along the bare skin at her throat.

  Solace watched with a growing fear as Anne’s eyes widened in outrage and her slender fingers slapped lord Randol’s large hand aside.

  “You go too far this time,” Anne retorted. “You’ve taxed us until we’ve become unable to pay. You’ve taken everything from us. I will not give you myself, too!”

  “You have little choice, Anne,” Randol said, stepping closer. “With nothing else to give, it’s either that or your house.”

  Anne stepped away from him. “Sleeping in a field is preferable to your touch,” she spat.