Page 121 of The Champion

But she seemed to sleep peacefully in his arms. The thought warmed him.

Kissing her hand, he reluctantly withdrew from her, being careful not to pull her hair or wake her. He had much to do today, including the need to rally his men and have Swan send a messenger to the Scot to make sure everyone had arrived safely.

Stryder looked back at Rowena and smiled. What he wouldn’t give to wake up every morning like this...

Sighing at the needless thought, he quickly washed, dressed and went to break his fast.

Rowena wasn’t sure what time it was when she came awake to someone talking outside of Stryder’s tent.

When she first opened her eyes, it took her a few seconds to remember where she was. Heat burned her face as she realized she was naked still in the earl’s bed. Someone, hopefully Stryder, had placed her yellow gown on top of the arming chest. There was no sight of her blue gown that she had worn the night before.

Someone had also placed a washing bowl, towels and a large water pitcher for her.

Rowena threw back the covers to wash and dress, then laughed quietly at the sight of Stryder’s writing on her stomach. Her body hot with the memory of his touch, she placed her hand over it and smiled tenderly.

That she would take care to keep a little while longer...

A bit fearful of being caught naked in his quarters, Rowena washed quickly and pulled her gown on. She was grateful Bridget had sent one that laced in the front and not the back. Leave it to her friend to think of that.

She rolled her fresh stockings on, then slid her feet into her shoes and started out of the tent.

No sooner had she started down the hill than she saw a group of knights gathered in a circle and heard an old woman’s voice speaking Arabic, asking if anyone could understand her.

The knights were bullish and hostile toward the old woman as they insulted her in Norman French. If anyone understood her questions, they didn’t speak up.

“I understand you.” Rowena made her way through the crowd.

The men parted with an air of anger, but then she was used to that, and she paid them no heed as she sought to help the woman.

In the midst of the knights’ circle, she found an old woman dressed as an Arabian servant. She was holding the thin, frail hand of a boy who was no older than eight. He also wore Arabic clothing, but his features and pale skin were clearly European. Strands of his golden blond hair had come loose of his hat, and he had very large dark amber eyes.

He was terrified as he looked at the large men surrounding them.

“My lady,” the elderly woman said as she bowed low before Rowena. “Please, can you help us?”

Rowena offered her a smile. “What can I do for you, good woman?”

She rose slowly and pulled the boy forward to stand in front of her. He stood there staring up at Rowena as if he were even more afraid of her than he was of the knights. Still, he was a handsome boy.

“I was told to bring Alexander-“ it took Rowena a moment to recognize the name through the woman’s heavily accented Arabic words, ”to his father. I was told he would be here with the other knights of his kind.”

That made sense. Most European knights who were renowned were here. And the boy could belong to any of them. “And who is his father?”

The old woman nudged the boy forward. “Show the lady your sign, boy.”

The boy shook his head and cringed away from Rowena.

“It will be as Allah intends, Alexander. Show her your father’s symbol.”

The boy’s eyes were filled with tears as he looked ready to bolt for cover. He reluctantly tugged at a chain that was around his neck, until he brought out a small heraldic emblem. It was the kind that many knights wore around their necks.

Rowena moved forward so that she could see whose coat of arms were painted on it.

Alexander’s medallion was old and worn with most of the enamel missing. Even so, she knew who it belonged to.

Her heart stopped. Aye, she knew his father.

Well.