Page 134 of The Champion

Rowena let her cloak fall closed and then tried to peek under his tunic. “Have you?”

“Nay, but unlike you, I was forced to wash mine off after Val and Swan saw it. They mocked me for days.”

“Did they?”

“Aye, ‘tis why Swan is off polishing my armor tonight.”

“And Val?”

“He limps still.”

She laughed at that. Stryder parted her cloak once more so that he could pull her barely concealed body against his and caress her skin through the sheer fabric. “Mmm,” he breathed against her ear. “I wish I were inside you right now, tasting you...”

Her cheeks pinkened at his words. “Milord, your son sleeps only a few feet away.”

“I know, which is why you’re not on the floor at this moment with me kissing you.”

He cupped her face with one hand and kissed her deeply then released her.

Rowena stepped back and smiled up at him. “You need your rest. On the morrow you have three men to defeat.”

“Aye, I do.”

She took both of his hands into hers and stared at the scars on them as if they made her ache. “I’m sorry I didn’t say, yea, when you asked me to marry you, and I pray that no one is hurt in this travesty, least of all, you.”

He nodded. “You are aware that when I win this, I fully intend to keep you.”

“I know. Alexander needs a mother.” There was a pain in her eyes that made his heart lurch.

“Rowena–“

”Shh,” she said, laying a finger over his lips. “I know I can’t keep you at home, Stryder. I’ve desire to try. As you said in your cell, ‘tis for the best that we marry. It solves all our problems and it gives Alexander a home.”

He’d never loved her more than he did at this minute. She asked nothing for herself. Nothing.

Kissing her hand, he bid her goodnight and watched her leave.

The morning came too slowly for Stryder, who tossed and turned with images of Rowena as a goose on his table.

Too bad she hadn’t been wearing the sheer gown but, rather, she’d been baked.

The nightmares had been terrible.

Fatima came to tend Alexander while Druce and Raven suited him up for the matches.

His first joust was at ten and as he took the field to wait his turn, his gaze searched the stands until he found what he was seeking.

Rowena sat in the stands with her ladies-in-waiting, wearing a white gown trimmed in down, and a crown on her head made of white goose feathers.

He laughed in spite of himself, especially as he saw her uncle’s face as the man sat beside her.

Leave it to his lady to vex any man near her.

Rowena hated the fact that her uncle and king commanded her presence at this debacle.

Every time two men charged each other, she cringed and closed her eyes. She’d always hated the sound of the horses’ hooves, of wood striking flesh and metal and the inevitable sound of a body slamming into the ground.

How could men be so barbaric to one another?