Page 8 of The Champion

Rowena plucked absently at her sleeve as she sought a way to block out the inane prattle. It was such an effort not to be sick in the midst of the hallway.

“I heard he’s vowed to never marry.”

Rowena quirked an eyebrow at the untoward comment. Perhaps the man had some intelligence after all.

“Why would he vow such?” Elizabeth asked.

“They say he’s cursed.”

“Cursed with the looks of a handsome devil, and the prowess of Saint George. I wish someone would curse me with such a man!”

Unable to stand any more of their comments, Rowena pushed past the thronging women and slowly descended the stairs. Let them ogle if they must. She had other things to do, such as find something bitter to remove the cloying sugary taste of their comments from her throat.

As she entered the foyer, a young page accidentally ran into her in his haste to fetch more wine for his lord. Rowena tried to right herself, but just as she straightened, a hound shot across her path and caught in the hem of her gown. Propelled forward, she felt herself falling.

She gasped, reaching out for a way to steady herself. Just as she was certain she would undignify herself with a sprawl in the center of the crowd, someone caught her.

Strong arms wrapped tightly around her, spinning her about before holding her close against a chest taut with muscles.

Rowena looked up and felt her jaw go slack.

Never in the whole of her life had she seen the like...

Never.

Blue eyes, fierce and piercing, stared out from a face of pure masculine heaven. It was all she could do to not reach out and run her hand along the sharp angle of that perfectly sculpted jaw, to let the tell-tale black stubble scrape her fingertip...

The man was utterly gorgeous.

Perfect.

He possessed that rare manly beauty that would be feminine on anyone who lacked his raw, earthy masculinity. Or, on anyone who lacked the size of him.

He was huge! Tall and well-muscled, he held her with ease. His unfashionably long hair spoke that this man didn’t cater to current tastes and the humor in his gaze said he possessed a good, tender nature.

As he continued to watch her with fascinated interest, her face burned with heat.

This was a most embarrassing embrace. Her body was tilted backward so that she looked up at the stranger with only the strength of his arms supporting her. He surrounded her with warmth and security, and his handsome face bore a mixture of concern and amusement.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked.

There was music in that masculine tone. A rich, deep bass that would no doubt resonate with beauty should he use it to sing.

An aura of danger surrounded him, that said he followed no man’s rules, save his own. An aura that said he held a dark, sinister side to him that would have been frightening had it not been softened by an air of charming good humor. It was a strange dichotomy that held her enthralled.

His wavy black hair swept about his broad shoulders and as he smiled, she saw the dimples that cut deep moons into his cheeks.

Her heart pounded as chills whipped through her at the sight of those devilish dimples.

He had also asked her a question. She remembered it, but for her life, she couldn’t remember what he’d said.

Until he set her back on her feet.

Mortified that she hadn’t moved, that she was acting every bit as childish as her friends, Rowena felt another wave of heat rush up over her cheeks.

In an effort to look away from the laughter in his blue mirthful eyes, her gaze dropped to his broad chest. He wore a tight red and black supertunic that slid sinuously over lean muscles. Muscles she remembered feeling pressed against her all too well.

His body was truly a feast for her eyes.