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He was her champion.
Simon set his heels to the horse and whisked her out of the castle's bailey, through the barbican and out
into the meadow
that surrounded the castle.
They flew across the fields. The power of the horse was evocative, but not nearly as much as the
strength of the man who
held her. His heart pounded against her shoulder blade. Everystep of the horse threw her back against
him in a scintillating rhythm.
She could feel his hot breath on her neck, the steel of his arms coiled around her.
She'd never known anything like this.
Time seemed to stop as they rode far away from the world. Far away from any other living person.
Simon took her deep into the forest, where there was no one but the two of them.
He stopped by the shore of a shimmering lake that gently lapped at the mossy bank. He helped her
down. Simon quickly rubbed his horse down before leaving the beast to graze and drink.
She waited patiently and admired the way his muscles flexed and bunched while he worked. It was the
first time she'd ever noticed the way a man's body moved while he exerted himself. She was fascinated
by the color that darkened his cheeks,
by the look of his large hands being so gentle with his animal.
Simon was powerful. Strong, and yet tender in his caring. She smiled at the knowledge.
Once finished, he rejoined her. Taking her by the hand, he led her to where a small circle of rocks
formed a strange table-and-chair design.
"What are we doing here?" she asked as she walked around the small outcropping of rocks.
"Nothing. I merely want to sit so that I can look at you and not have to worry about anyone else
disturbing us."
Kenna frowned at his words. "Why would you wish to do that?"
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"Because I have dreamed of your face every night for a year now. When next I leave, I want to make
sure that I won't
forget even the tiniest detail of you."
He sat down, then pulled her to sit beside him on the mossy grass.
Kenna didn't speak as she watched him. He leaned back against a rock, his gaze never wavering from
hers.
The intensity of that icy blue stare unnerved her. She wasn't sure what she should say to him.
How strange. She'd always had plenty to say to hiilftn letters. But then their letters had been safe.
There was nothing safe about the man beside her.
Hewas dangerous. She could sense it. This was a man who had stood single-handedly against his
enemies. One who
had put his life at risk for others, countless times.
"Edward used to tell me stories of how you would help "
"Shh," he said, placing his fingertip over her lips. "I've no wish to remember my past. My time in
Outremer was a nightmare
best left forgotten."
She nodded. The horrors of their existence had haunted her brother until the day he'd died. Once
Edward returned home,
he'd refused ever to be in darkness. They had paid servants to stay awake all night long, keeping the fire
and candles in his room burning until the dawn. Edward himself had purchased dozens of cats to make
sure no rodents would ever be found
in their hall.
For the first year of his return, Edward had been like a madman. Terrified and nervous. Screaming out
for no apparent
reason, sitting for hours curled up into a ball as he held on to himself and rocked endlessly.
All of them had feared for Edward's sanity until one night, when a stranger had shown up. To this day,
she didn't know the man's name. He'd stayed with Edward for several months until her brother could
again function as a man and not a scared animal waiting to be kicked.
When the man had left, he'd handed Edward the badge she had returned to Stryder in Normandy the
mark of the Brotherhood of the Sword, a group of men whose ties to each other went far deeper than
blood. Theirs was a brotherhood
of sorrow and grief. One of unimaginable torment and pain.
Now there was Simon. He who had been in the thick of it and yet seemed to have somehow survived it
whole and
undamaged.
She marveled at his strength.
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"What will you do after the tournament?" she asked.
"Stryder wishes to return to Normandy for a while."
Her stomach tightened at the thought of him so far away again. "You will go with him?"
"I haven't decided. What of you?"
She sighed as she thought it over. "I shall return home. The Angel sent word that there is another Scot
who needs a resting place for a time before he returns to his family. I shall be there to make him
welcome."
Simon nodded.
The Angel was the only woman who had been in their company during their days in Outremer. Only
Simon and the other
four members of the Quinfortis had known The Angelwas a woman. The five of them had protected her
carefully from
their enemies.
He was grateful to Kenna for continuing to uphold her brother's oath to help save and protect those who
had suffered
the horrors of a Saracen prison.
Kenna was a good woman, one he would spend the rest of his life aching for.
How he wished things were different.
Simon sat quietly, watching the wind play in the tendrils of her brown hair, watching her long, graceful
fingers toy with the
trim of her dress.
He was captivated by those hands. Hands he wanted to feel on his skin. Fingers he wanted to taste and
tease ...
For the first time in his life, he felt awkward with a woman. He was so unsure of himself. So afraid of
saying the wrong
thing and making her demand that he leave her.
He watched as she picked up a blade of grass and used her hands to make a light whistle from it.
"What are you doing, my lady?"
She smiled, then blew against it again. "I'm calling the fey folk."
"Why?"
"So that they can give you back the silver tongue that wooed me so effectively. You are stiff with me
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