Free Champion of the Heart by Laurel O'Donnell Page B

descended into the dank, dark bowels of the castle, a chill climbing her spine despite his comforting voice still echoing in her ears. He wasn’t with her today, and he would never be with her again. Never as a friend.
    She moved deeper into the darkness. Around her, the air seemed to thicken with a chill dampness. This was no place for a lady, especially one on the verge of marriage. But her father’s word was law. She clutched the basin as if it were some sort of shield.
    She moved carefully down the spiraling stairway, careful not to slosh the water on her dress. At the bottom of the stairs, the bottom of the castle, the bottom of the world, she continued on to the guard’s post. Her protector. Her guardian in case one of those foul vagabonds tried to touch her. But what she found caused her even more dismay.
    The guard was slumped over the table, snoring loudly, an empty cup of ale still gripped loosely in his hand. Jordan stared for a moment, her mouth open. She turned back toward the stairs, to her father. But then she halted. It would serve him right to know he sent her here unprotected. She could just imagine the shock on his face, the horror.
    Besides, he would still send her back down, and she would have to carry this basin of water all the way back. She just wanted to get this unpleasant task over with and get out of the dungeon.
    She moved up to the guard and took a candle from the table. Then, balancing the basin in one hand and the candle in the other, the cloth tucked beneath her chin, she muttered a curse and walked into the darkness of the dungeon hallway. She moved to the door and peaked through the barred windows. Jordan knew there were two other prisoners in the dungeon right now, but she could see no one in the gloomy interior. The candle cast its light only a few feet into the dungeon’s belly.
    Jordan put the basin and candle down and slid the heavy bolt aside. The loud grating sound reverberated through the dungeon. She glanced back toward the guard’s post, hoping it would wake the man up. But the guard did not appear. Only his snoring echoed down the hallway after her.
    Jordan grimaced and eased the door open. It squeaked on rusted hinges. She bent to retrieve the basin and candle before stepping into the room.
    The light from the candle flickered in the large room, casting more light into the dark room as it spread out wider. One room served as the dungeon for all. Several pairs of manacles hung empty on the wall. Dark corners hid a myriad of unseen evils.
    As her vision adjusted more to the gloom, Jordan made out a hunched form huddled against the far wall. His knees were raised, his arms resting atop them. His head was down, and his thick black locks cascaded in waves over his arms. He was chained to the wall, the thick metal manacles surrounding his wrists.
    Slowly, his head lifted until his blue eyes locked on hers. There was a hard edge to them, a predatory look in them. They narrowed slightly.
    Fox, part of her wanted to call out, but she pushed that soft side away and kept silent.
    “Come to stare at your rightful future husband?” he wondered.
    She opened her mouth to reply, to deny his accusation, but then promptly closed it. That was exactly what she was doing. Staring. But not at a man she would even dare to consider as a future husband. The very thought of Fox trying to claim her as his wife sent an odd flush racing through her veins.
    Finally, Jordan shook her head, the strange sensation quickly turning to heated anger. “I’m here to mend your wound.” Jordan moved to Fox’s side, angrily placing the basin and candle at his feet. Some of the water sloshed from the bowl.
    “Alone?” Fox asked, genuinely surprised.
    Jordan knelt beside him, lifting furious eyes to lock with his. “I don’t need my father to protect me from you.” She dropped one of the cloths into the water.
    When she looked up again, she saw he had been stripped of his armor. His wound was bound by a