Free Champion of the Heart by Laurel O'Donnell

out in greeting. “You have done well this day.”
    The black knight halted directly before the platform. Behind him, the four men finished helping Evan to his feet. He ripped off his helmet, hollering, “Unmask, sir, so I can see who beat the best fighter in all of England!”
    “Yes,” Lord Ruvane agreed. “Remove your helm so we may welcome you into our family.”
    No! Jordan thought, her insides twisting. This can’t be!
    For a long moment, the black knight did not move.
    Silence blanketed the entire field.
    “Remove your helm,” Lord Ruvane insisted.
    A grumbling grew and spread amongst the spectators. The crowd moved forward, edging closer to the platform to see the winner.
    The black knight sheathed his sword and then reached up with his right hand to pull the helm from his head. As he lowered it away from him, his face slowly emerged into view. Wet hair, dark as coal; blue sapphire eyes, hard as rock; an aquiline nose; lips thin and set in defiance; and a strong, square chin.
    Jordan knew him immediately. She gasped in shock and her heart skipped a beat in her chest. “Fox.”
    His intense gaze swiveled to her, pinning her to her spot, a searing torch igniting her body.
    His name was echoed around the platform and fence by everyone who had gathered, but no voice echoed louder than Evan’s. “The Black Fox!” he raged.
    “I have won Lady Jordan’s hand fairly.” Fox’s voice, thick with bitterness, rose above the outburst.
    Evan marched up to him. “Have you lost your mind, Mercer?” Evan proclaimed. “You can’t have her.”
    “Did you really think I would allow my daughter to marry an outlaw?” Lord Ruvane asked Fox in disbelief.
    “Guards!” Evan called, stepping toward Fox and placing the tip of his weapon at Fox’s throat. “You are under arrest, Fox Mercer.”
    Men in chainmail and tunics bearing the Ruvane crest rushed onto the field, surrounding him.
    Fox stood his ground, not even trying to escape. His gaze swiveled to Jordan again. Accusation burned in his eyes.
    Her shock disappeared, quickly replaced by her own anger. He should be imprisoned! He should be locked away forever for stealing the herbs that would have saved Maggie’s life. She lifted her chin slightly and narrowed her gaze. What did he have to accuse her of? She should be looking at him with disdain. “Take this murderer to the dungeon,” she spat.
    The murmuring rose again.
    “I declare Sir Evan the winner of the tournament and of my daughter’s hand in marriage,” Lord Ruvane exclaimed.
    But there was no loud cheer from any of the onlookers. Just murmurings of confusion and awe and shock that the Black Fox had been captured.
    “You heard the lady. Take him to the dungeon,” Evan ordered.
    The guards roughly seized hold of Fox’s arms. His black helm fell to the ground, and Evan kicked it aside as the men marched their prisoner toward Castle Ruvane.
     
     

Chapter Eight
     

     
     
    “I can’t believe he would dare to show his face here!” Jordan marched back and forth across the solar, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.
    Evan leaned back in his chair and let her rant, a grin on his lips.
    “What could he have hoped to accomplish?”
    “Your hand in marriage,” Evan supplied, graciously.
    “Ha!” Jordan exclaimed in disbelief. “I would not marry him if he were the last man in all of England!” She drummed her fingers on her lower lip. “He’s a wanted outlaw, a thief, and a killer. But he is not stupid. He knew there was no chance for him to win my hand in marriage. So why come here?”
    “Jordan,” Evan mused, “Fox never was very smart. I never thought so.”
    Jordan turned to look at Evan. “You used to be good friends.”
    “That was a lifetime ago. And truthfully, you used to be friends with him. I just tolerated his presence because I thought you liked him.”
    I did like him, Jordan thought, remembering their childhood friendship. I liked him very much. What had happened to the