Page 52 of The Champion

But the only time she’d ever been happy was when she visited Kit’s father.

Banishing the memories that burned his soul, he forced himself into the hall. He had given his word, and above all else, he would not break it.

Stryder froze the instant he saw Rowena in his brother’s arms. Something painful shot through him so unexpectedly that it took his breath.

She was beautiful. Her cheeks reddened by her exercise.

The dance ended. She and Kit stayed on the dance floor while the group made ready for the masketelle.

All the women drew straws to be the first lady to wear the mask. The idea of the dance was for the masked lady to be twirled around and then set free to blindly find her dance partner for the rest of the night. They would lead the dance and, on the morrow, that couple would reign as the “king and queen” of the squire’s tournament.

The lady chosen would reign until the knights held their tournament, and the victor named the Lady of All Hearts, who would then bestow the prizes on the victors, and be the guest of honor at the banquet held on the final night of the tournament.

Under the supervision of a matron, the straws were quickly drawn and compared.

“Rowena de Vitry is our first queen,” the matron pronounced.

The silence was deafening. Normally when a lady was chosen, a cheer went up for her.

But this…

This was unheard of.

The black feathered mask was brought forward on a golden platter before the matron took it and secured the mask to Rowena’s head while the minstrels began to play. The women twirled Rowena around.

Normally the men would be surrounding her, elbowing and shoving for a chance to be picked.

None moved.

Indeed, many stepped back. Unable to see through her mask, Rowena stumbled about with her arms held out, while the men finally began to elbow and prod one another.

“You brave her tongue,” one man said to another.

“I can do without a shrew. Not even her lands are worth putting up with her prattle.”

Laughter rang out.

Rowena froze.

But in her honor, she didn’t cry or run. She merely stood there in the center of their mockery with her head held high.

Kit started forward.

“Aye, you take her, Christopher. She can’t unman you.”

Stryder’s vision turned dark. Deadly.

Rowena wanted to die in shame. It was all she could do not to tear the mask off and run. But she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Worst of all, she felt for poor Kit who had tried to help her. The last thing he deserved was to be mocked for his kind heart.

The laughter of the crowd died as she felt someone near her. Expecting it to be Kit, she was completely startled when strong arms pulled her close to a hard body.

The minstrels began playing again. There was no sound now from anyone in the hall as her unknown champion led her through a dance. His steps were flawless and commanding.

And she knew the sweet masculine scent of her champion.

“Stryder?” she whispered.