by Lisa Kleypas
“Thank you!” She kissed his cheek.
Malcolm patted her on the back, then released her.
With a curtsy to both kings, Kenna took her leave and rushed to find Simon, who stood in a corner with Sin and Stryder.
None of them looked particularly happy.
Still overjoyed by her excitement, she had to force herself not to embrace Simon.
“All is not lost!” she announced to the dour group.
“How so?” Simon asked.
“Malcolm has granted us a reprieve,” she replied. “If on the morrow you win the show of arms, he will allow us to marry.”
Simon arched a disbelieving brow. “If I win?”
“Aye.”
Her enthusiasm waned at the stunned look on Simon’s face.
Stryder and Sin burst out laughing.
“What is so funny?” she demanded.
“You’ve never seen Stryder fight, have you?” Sin asked.
Kenna frowned at that. “Aye, I have.”
“Then did you not notice the fact that no one bests me?” Stryder asked. “Least of all, Simon.”
“Excuse me,” Simon growled. “I happen to be second only to you, Sin and Draven.”
“That would make you fourth then, wouldn’t it?” Sin asked.
Simon cast him a feral glare. “I should have let the MacNeelys poison you.”
“It doesn’t matter who is best,” Kenna said. “Simon will win tomorrow.”
Stryder scoffed. “I doubt that most seriously.”
Kenna lifted her chin as she eyed the handsome earl earnestly. “I do not. For if you win, my lord, and I am forced to wed you, then I can assure you, you will regret that victory for the rest of your life.”
Stryder stiffened at her words. “Don’t threaten me, my lady. I don’t take kindly to it. And I will not lose to Simon or any other man. I have never in my life been defeated, and that is one title I will fight to the death to protect. No one will ever best me.”
Before she could contradict him, Stryder spun about angrily and left them.
“How dare he!” Kenna started after him, but Simon stopped her.
“Pay him no mind, love. Stryder has good reason for his words.”
“He might at that, but I will not let him win on the morrow.” She met Sin’s black gaze. “Can you not help Simon to train?”
Sin shook his head. “We have only one night.”
“Aye, but surely—”
“It won’t happen, Kenna,” Simon said. “I will fight with every ounce of my strength for you, make no mistake about that. But I am not the fighter Stryder is. I have no delusions about that fact.”
Perhaps, but she knew in her heart that it would work out. It had to.
“I think you will be surprised by what you can do.”
Kenna and Simon spoke little for the rest of the night. After supper, Caledonia took Kenna upstairs to her room while Simon went to find Stryder, who hadn’t shown himself to eat.
He found his old friend sitting up on the parapet with a flagon of ale nestled in his arms, much like a babe.
Simon let out a disgusted breath at the sight. “What is it with you and Sin that the two of you like to do this?”
Stryder didn’t answer as he finished off his ale. “Why are you here, Simon?”
“I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”
Stryder didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, he continued to stare out at the inner bailey far below. “I’m not going to throw the match.”
“I know.” Simon would never ask such a thing from a man who had spent his entire life running from his past. Running from the little boy he had once been. It wasn’t in Stryder to lose, and he would never ask his friend for such a sacrifice. “I don’t want you to throw it.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I wanted to make sure we are still friends.”
“Friends…” Stryder laughed, and it was then Simon realized the man was drunk.
Extremely drunk, judging by the way Stryder wobbled as he tossed the flagon aside and reached for the second one that was set down by his foot.
Stryder righted himself and returned to staring out at the yard. “You get me betrothed to a woman I don’t know and now I am told I have to fight to marry her on the morrow even though I want no wife, especially not one who is in love with someone else. If we weren’t friends, you’d be dead now, Simon.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Stryder looked up at that, his eyes haunted. “Just as I never meant to get you and Edward captured.”
Pain swept through Simon at the reminder. Stryder had barely earned his spurs when they had followed Simon’s father down to Outremer. Still a squire, Simon had thought it a grand adventure, until they’d met up with the small band of Crusaders.
Simon’s father had scoffed at the fools, but Stryder had been young and intent on proving himself.
Stryder had wanted to follow after the Crusaders so that he could win glory and fame.
Simon had chosen friendship and gone with Stryder, never knowing what would come of his decision. Three years of their lives had been sacrificed to that fateful day. Three years of living in filth and squalor. Of fighting rats and serpents for every scrap of food.
Simon’s flesh still bore the scars of that time, but unlike Stryder, he had chosen to bury the internal scars. To try his best to forget every degradation and horror they had experienced.
“I never blamed you.”
“And I’ve never understood why you didn’t.”
“We are brothers, Stryder.” Just as he was brother to Sin and Draven. He’d had to align himself to all of them to survive. Their shared tragedies had bonded them.
Stryder took a deep breath. “Do you love her?”
“Aye.”
“Then how can you stand here so casually when you know that on the morrow she will belong to me?”
“Because she never really belonged to me.” The truth stung him deep, but both he and Stryder knew it. “I am truly the Wraith.” He laughed bitterly at the irony of that. “She didn’t see me until it was too late to do anything about it.” His heart aching, he forced himself to add, “I know you will honor her.”
“And if she dies because of the curse of my family?”
Simon rolled his eyes at the lunacy of that question. “You’re not cursed, Stryder.”
“Aye, but I am. Why else would I be forced to marry my best friend’s love?” Stryder rubbed his hand over his head. “Why are you here with me anyway? You should be with her this night. God knows the two of you may never have another one.”
Simon frowned at his words. “You’re being remarkably understanding about all this.”
“I’m being remarkably drunk, Simon. I plan to drink so much that this night will be nothing but an unremembered blur. Come the morrow, you and I shall have to fight.” Stryder looked up at him. “I don’t want to fight you, Simon. You are one of the few people I consider family, and family is something I have very little of. Now go. I want to be alone in my misery.”
Simon nodded. He well understood that sentiment, though tonight, for the first time, he had no wish to be alone.
He wanted Kenna.
And yet he dare not seek her out.
If he did, he would spend this night with her, and he couldn’t do that to Stryder.
He appreciated Kenna’s confidence in his abilities, but he knew the limits of his prowess. He could never defeat Stryder.
Damn the Fates for it.
Clenching his teeth, he left Stryder to his ale and went to seek whatever comfort he could in his tent.
It was a calm, quiet night. Most of the knights were still in the hall, boasting of how well they intended to do on the morrow.
A sennight ago, Simon would have been headed back to his tent to write to Kenna, to tell her all about his day and to speculate on what the morrow might bring.
But he couldn’t even take comfort in that anymore.
Their days of writing letters to one another were over. It would be unseemly of him to continue to correspond with the countess of Blackmoor while he rode with her husband.
The pain of the thought was almost enough to send him to his knees.
Heartsick, Simon entered his tent and moved to disrobe. He had stripped down to his tunic and hose when he heard a light noise behind the curtain that separated his dressing area from the bed.
Suspicious of an intruder, he reached for his sword.
With it held at the ready, he pulled back the curtain, then froze.
There in his bed was the one woman he would sell his soul to possess.
Kenna.
Her thick, wavy hair was down around her face. She wore a gauzy white chemise that was so sheer he could easily see the bright pink tips of her breasts.
He’d never seen a more beautiful sight than her waiting for him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, lowering his sword.
“This is the one place where I do belong. I don’t want to be without you, Simon.”
He was humbled by her words. By the fact that she would risk so much to be with him tonight when he needed her so desperately.
He should send her on her way. It would be the noble thing to do.
But having lived his life for others, he found himself selfish tonight.
For once, he wanted something for himself.
He wanted her.
He dropped his sword and made his way toward the bed where she lay waiting. How he wished he could have her with him like this always.
Kenna held her breath, half expecting Simon to send her away. He had a look about him that warned her he was divided in his intentions.
But there was no division in hers. She was concentrated on him and him alone.
She shivered as he drew near her and pulled back the covers.
“I know not what brought you here tonight, my lady. I am only glad that you came.”
Kenna smiled at him. “I would always come for you, my knight. No matter where you go.”
He pulled his tunic off and gathered her into his arms. Kenna sighed at the sensation of his skin under her hands. He was so steely and warm. She loved the way his muscles rippled beneath her hands. The way he stared at her as if she were some tasty morsel he longed to devour.
His locket fell down to nestle between her breasts. Fire tore through her as she welcomed him.
“Don’t leave me, Simon,” she whispered. “Please win for me tomorrow.”
“I shall do all within my power to win you.”
He separated her legs with his knee. Kenna moaned at the feel of his hard body lying against hers. She felt him from her lips to her toes.
He kissed her then, hot and passionately. She ran her hands over his back as he bulged against her. Her body throbbed, wanting him inside her again.
He opened her chemise and slid his hand down to her breast, which tightened and ached for him.
With a growl, he left her lips and dipped his head to take her swollen nipple into his mouth. She hissed at the feel of him there while she held his head to her.
She couldn’t imagine anything more pleasurable than Simon touching her.
He took his time tasting her, teasing her, before he began a slow trail down her body.
Kenna had no idea what he intended. He lifted the hem of her chemise, baring her lower half to his hungry gaze.
She shivered at the sight of him staring at her most private place. He nudged her legs farther apart, then ran his finger down her wet cleft.
Just as she thought the pleasure couldn’t get any better, he dipped his head down and took her into his mouth.
Kenna cried out in ecstatic surprise. She’d never imagined a man doing this to her. He was relentless in his tasting of her.
And when she came for him, it tore her asunder.
She expected him to enter her then.
He didn’t.
Instead, he pulled back and lowered the chemise to cover her. He moved to lay down by her side and pulled her so that he cradled her head against his bare chest.
“You didn’t take your pleasure.”
“Aye, love, I did. Your pleasure was mine tonight.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I can’t take you again, Kenna, knowing that on the morrow like as not you’ll belong to someone else. I can’t send you to Stryder carrying my child. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.”
“And if I’m already carrying your child?”
“I can’t undo that. I can only ensure that I don’t cuckold him from this moment on.”
Kenna swallowed the tears she longed to weep. This was so unfair. She was getting the very thing she’d wanted—marriage to Stryder. Only it wasn’t what she needed.
She needed Simon.
She lay quietly, listening to Simon’s heart beating beneath her cheek.
She sighed. “Do you remember what you wrote to me last Christmastide when you were in Flanders?”
“That I hate duck?”
She laughed. “Aye, you said that too. But I was thinking more of your telling me how you wished you could have a family celebration like the duke of Burgundy. You wrote of how his children had been around him as well as his brothers and sister. Do you remember it now?”
“Aye. Men ever seek to obtain what they know they can never have.”
“The day might come—”
“Nay,” he said, interrupting her. “Even if I were to become landed, there is no other I would have, Kenna. You are the only woman I would ever quest for.”
“You would change your mind, Simon, if you were given lands.”
“Nothing would change. I’ve known many women in my life, of all stations, and I know my heart. In all my journeys there has never been another woman who made me feel what you do. You are my friend and confidante. I have trusted you in ways I have never trusted anyone else. It’s not in me to be so open with people, and yet I have told you every thought and dream I have ever possessed.”
She was warmed by his words.
He balled her hair up in his hand and lifted it to his face. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent.
She was awed by the action. “I can’t lose you, Simon.”
His jaw flexed. “We do what we must.”
“But—”
“Nay, Kenna. No matter what we want, the dawn will come and tomorrow will see us parted.”
“But if we—”
“There are no buts. I will not see you running from the family that loves you and making them sick with worry. Stryder is a good man. He will see you cared for.”
“Will he see me loved?”
His crystal blue eyes were dull, tortured. “Nay. He will never allow himself to love a woman.”
“And I will never love him. Tell me where either Stryder or I will find happiness in that?”
“You will find it. Somehow.”
Kenna growled at him. How she wanted to throttle the stubborn beast. What was it with men that they were ever blind?
He kissed her on the brow and held her face in his hand. “Sleep, Kenna. I need my rest if I am to fight.”
She nodded, even though what she wanted was to argue more. She’d learned long ago that once a man set his mind to anything there was no changing it.
But as she lay nestled in his arms, she prayed for a miracle. One that would see her wed to the champion of her heart and not to the champion of England.
Chapter 5
The dawn found Simon waking up to feel Kenna pressed to his side. Her warm, silken body called out to his, while her precious, sweet scent clung to him, permeating his head.
He lay quietly just listening to her breathe, feeling her skin against his.
Odd how a few months ago he’d wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life helping the Brotherhood. He’d been content with his lot of second born, landless knight. Nothing had owned him and he had owned nothing.
His life had seemed goo
d. Even desirable.
Kenna had changed that.
Now he wanted only to be with her. For the first time in his life, he desired to be a husband, a father.
He wanted to be everything to her. To see her grow round with his child and to hold his own son or daughter in his arms.
He wanted to grow old with her.
Ultimately, he wouldn’t even be allowed to take part in her life at all. After this day, he would be forced to hand her over to Stryder and walk away.
It would be the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
His heart heavy, he forced himself to leave her side and dress. There was much to be done in preparation for the day’s events.
Once he was ready to leave, he returned to the bed and stole a quiet kiss from Kenna.
She didn’t move.
Tracing her lips with his finger, he smiled sadly. “Sleep well, my love. I hope you have peace in your dreams.” For he would never have any peace in his heart. Not so long as they were forced to live separate lives.
And with that, he left her and made his way to the list, where knights were already beginning to gather.
Stryder was in the list with his squire, Raven. The boy was adjusting Stryder’s cuirass to allow Stryder a wider range of motion during the coming matches.
“How fare you?” Simon asked.
Stryder’s eyes were rimmed and red. He snarled in greeting. “Don’t speak so loudly.”
Simon shook his head. “Given your current state, mayhap I stand a chance after all.”
But even he knew better. He’d seen Stryder recover from far worse things than this and still fight like a lion amongst mice.
Stryder grunted in response.
Simon spent the morning training and resting for what would come that afternoon. But it was hard to focus on that while his thoughts continually drifted back to the woman he’d left in his tent.
“God,” he whispered, looking up at the clear blue sky above his head, “grant me either the strength to win this or to be man enough to walk away and leave them in peace.”
Kenna woke to the silence of an empty tent. There were no traces of Simon. Nothing other than the warm, manly scent of him on her skin.
Until her gaze fell to the pillow beside her, where he’d left a note.