Page 65 of The Champion

Her grip tightened on his hand, sending another wave of desire through him as he imagined what that hand would feel like sliding down his back, holding him close to a body he wanted only to taste.

“I know,” she said in a low tone.

“The court will be scandalized,” he warned, needing the words said for his benefit as much as for hers.

She shrugged nonchalantly as she released his hand and returned to dressing his bed. “They despise me, anyway. Let them gossip if they must. If I’m lucky, they shall brand me such a whore that no man will have me.”

Stryder sucked his breath in sharply at her words as anger swept away his desire. He pulled her away from the bed to face him. “Don’t ever tease about that.”

Rowena bit her lip in uncertainty. The anger in his tone surprised her. “I’m sorry, Stryder, I was only trying to lighten your mood.”

His features relaxed along with his grip on her arm. “You did that the moment you stepped through yon door.”

Rowena smiled up at him as his words set her heart to pounding.

The next thing she knew, he pulled her close and kissed her soundly on the lips. She surrendered her weight to him as her body erupted with desire.

His strength. His power. It was unlike anything she had ever known. If decadence had a taste, it would be Stryder’s lips. No man should ever be so tempting. No wonder women mobbed him so.

He took his time exploring her mouth, teasing her senses with his tongue while she held him in her arms.

And in the back of her mind, she wondered what it would be like to know this man who kissed her so tenderly...

Ganymede pulled his dagger out of the heart of the messenger, then wiped the blade clean against the dead man’s tunic.

So, there was another assassin here. Damn. The Saracens had warned him that they would be keeping an eye on him, that he would never be free of them until he fulfilled his pact. But after all this time, he had lured himself into a false sense of security.

More fool he for thinking even for a minute that he was free of the past.

They were here.

Very well. He couldn’t run forever.

And when cornered, the fox always attacked. It was time he taught his masters exactly what he had learned at their hands.

Carefully, he wrapped the Saracen body in a rug and tied it closed. It wouldn’t do for anyone to find another dead body while Stryder was locked up.

Especially, not a Saracen’s. It would raise too many questions and suspicions.

Ganymede carefully hid the body in his own tent, making sure no one saw him. He placed it under his cot and made sure no one could see it should they venture into his quarters. Not that anyone would.

The court avoided him like a plagued beggar. Which was a good thing, since it made his kills all the easier to accomplish.

He would rid himself of the body once night fell. After all, getting rid of such evidence was one of the many things his masters had taught him.

Too bad they hadn’t considered what would happen once the fox was released back into the wild. He wasn’t about to be recalled or silenced. Ever.

Retrieving the parchment from the dead man’s satchel, he sat down and reread it.

There was another assassin here in the midst of the tournament festivities. So be it. The way to stop the viper was to cut off its head.

All he knew was that the letter addressed someone called The Jackal. According to the letter, he was half Christian, half Saracen. One of their own, sent home to kill, just as Ganymede had been.

Too bad the messenger had impaled himself on Ganymede’s dagger before he’d gotten a description of the Jackal.

No matter. The court held a few well-placed gossips, and one of them was bound to know who among them had a questionable birth in the Holy Land.

Sighing, Ganymede hid the satchel with the body, pasted a false smile on his face and headed out to join the rest of Henry’s court to find his next and last victim.