Free Besieged Heart (No Ordinary Lovers Collection) by Jennifer Blake

blue sheen. Then he was kneeling before her, the wind ruffling his dark hair as he inclined his head.
    “Command me, my princess,” he said.

Chapter Five

    The baron swaggered into the audience hall, his every strutting step showing confidence in his victory. Faced with Mara’s challenge to settle the outcome of the siege by right of arms, he laughed aloud and slapped his knee at the jest. That was before Rayne stepped forward to present himself as her champion.
    The insignia of deer and longbows, quartered, that was etched into the breastplate Rayne wore caught the light of torches and wax tapers. The baron blanched. A big man, well-fleshed, he seemed to shrink while he glared at Rayne’s features and tall form.
    “Who are you?” Ewloe demanded. “What is your rank and title that you dare seek to contest with me?”
    Rayne smiled, a movement of the lips that did not affect the chill of his eyes. “I am my father’s son.”
    “A nameless bastard, then.”
    There was craftiness as well as scorn in the baron’s charge. Mara held her breath, for it was the older man’s right to refuse to meet a man he considered his inferior.
    “My father and my mother took each other in handfast marriage,” Rayne said evenly.
    “Without witnesses, I’ll vow!” The baron jutted his chin forward as he made the charge.
    “Witnessed by God on high. Who else is required? What wedding at the church door can be more sanctified?” Rayne touched his fingers to the insignia he wore. “Oh, yes, and there was one other present, an old man with some renown as a wizard. He left behind a document, properly sealed, testifying to my right to wear the Ewloe arms.”
    A handfast marriage—private vows exchanged by a man and a woman in token of their intentions—was more than adequate, Mara realized with some amazement. Such a union was as legally binding as the two people involved wished it to be. The priests might rant about proper blessings, but no such intervention was required; not even a witness was necessary so long as the marriage was undisputed. This meant that Rayne was the true Baron Ewloe, or would have been if his father had not renounced his title.
    Something like a snarl appeared on the older man’s face. “It takes more than a name and arms to be a champion. By what right do you stand for the sister of Prince Stephen?”
    “By her faith and trust,” came the answer in ringing tones, “also by my sworn oath to protect her. Will you meet me?”
    The baron swore as he set his fists on his hips. “I have no dispute with you.”
    “The old wizard, my father-of-the-heart, thought otherwise,” Rayne returned with cold precision. “He swore it was you who worked upon the man who sired me, telling him he had sinned against God by taking a bride of Christ for his own. It was you who convinced my father that he must set out on a crusade of repentance. Moreover, no man heard him renounce his lands and title before he departed except you, the man who now holds them.”
    “So you think to take them from me by force with your challenge?” Rage mottled the baron’s features.
    “The man who found me in a cave kept me safe from you for that purpose, aye, even trained me for it,” Rayne said. “But no. I fight for the freedom of a lady; that is all. The title you gained by stealth will belong to the princess if you are killed in our match.”
    Mara realized what Rayne said was true. The baron’s lands and his every privilege would be forfeit if he was defeated. Rayne, though he would meet the man, was only fighting in her name. She was the one who had been attacked; therefore the spoils of the battle would belong to her.
    “Then you are twice a fool,” his uncle growled “for you will die for nothing. I will grind you into the dust and make mud of your blood. I will carve your carcass into quarters and feed it to my hounds. And then I will deal with the woman who would turn my kin loose against me.”
    Turning on a booted