Julie Garwood - The Prize

Nicholaa would have laughed if she hadn't been so worried about the chess piece Morgan was holding. She didn't dare order him to put the piece back for fear he'd realize the importance to her and deliberately destroy it.

Henry bowed to Royce, then walked toward Nicholaa. "Perhaps then, my lady, we will see who is first and who is second."

"But we already know that, don't we?" she asked.

Nicholaa couldn't stand still a minute longer. Watching Morgan fondling the chess piece was too upsetting. She walked over to the entrance. "Lawrence, please see the soldiers out. My husband did want them to leave right away."

Morgan turned to Royce. "We plan to crush your soldiers," he boasted. "We won't be defeated this time."

To emphasize his boast, he snapped the head off the chess piece, then tossed the black queen into the fire.

Until that minute Royce hadn't realized Morgan was holding the piece. He'd been watching Nicholaa. He saw the look of anguish on her face and then saw the chess piece destroyed.

He let out a roar of fury. Morgan turned, surprised, as Royce moved like a bolt of lightning. It all happened too quickly for Nicholaa to react. One minute Morgan was standing there looking smug and arrogant, and the next he was sailing through the air like a disk.

Royce threw the big man a fair distance. Morgan went hurling past the table, then past the screen. He should have landed against the front wall. He didn't, though. He went through it. Nicholaa guessed the wall was riddled with rotten wood, too.

A gaping hole the size of a man's doubled-over body appeared in the very center of the wall, giving them a rather pleasant view of the courtyard beyond.

Nicholaa clasped a hand over her mouth in astonishment. She could see through the hole that Morgan was already staggering to his feet. Royce hadn't killed him. Henry came rushing towards her. He was obviously not going to give his friend assistance. Morgan couldn't seem to stand up straight. He kept falling back to his knees. She guessed he was a little dizzy.

She tried, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Henry noticed. He was so furious he was shaking. He stopped when he reached her side. "You chose the wrong baron to wed," he snarled.

Henry might have been able to control his anger if Nicholaa hadn't laughed. He wanted to strike her. Yet even in his rage he knew Royce would kill him if he touched Nicholaa. Still, the desire to rid her of her smile overwhelmed his caution. He tried to frighten her with words instead. "You'll be widowed before the games are finished," he muttered. "You really should have listened to the old hag and killed Royce when you had the chance. You would have saved us the trouble."

Nicholaa wouldn't let him bait her into losing her temper. Henry sounded like a little boy who hadn't gotten his way.

She shook her head. "Do leave, Henry. You're beginning to irritate me."

She didn't waste another minute on the stupid man. Royce was her main concern now. Lord, she'd never seen him lose his control this thoroughly. It was a little unnerving. He didn't seem to be finished with Morgan, either. When he turned and started for the doorway and she got a good look at the scowl on his face, she knew she'd have to interfere. She didn't want him to kill Morgan. The soldier's death wouldn't be worth the explanation Royce would have to give the king. Besides, she didn't want Morgan's body buried on their land.

Royce had almost reached her when she blurted out, "We have a lovely breeze now, husband. Thank you."

He nodded, passed her, then suddenly stopped. He turned around. "What did you just say?"

"I thanked you for the window."

Lawrence started to laugh. Nicholaa smiled. Royce closed his eyes and let out a loud sigh. "I'm not going to kill the bastard," he announced.

"No, of course not," she agreed. "The chess piece is gone. Killing Morgan won't change that."

"I just wanted to break a leg or two, Nicholaa."

He'd sounded so reasonable when he confessed that plan to her. He grinned, too.

"Nothing will be gained by breaking his legs."

"I'll gain immense satisfaction," he countered.

She shook her head.

He scowled. Then he gave up. The woman had her mind set on getting her way. He wouldn't disappoint her. He glanced at the fire, then back to Nicholaa. "Sweetheart, which piece was it?"

"The black queen."

His shoulders slumped. That was the piece her father had made a nick in while laughing over one of his stories.

Royce felt responsible for the disaster. He should have been watching Morgan's every move. He could have prevented the destruction if he'd been paying more attention.

He roughly pulled Nicholaa into his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's my fault. I should have-"

She didn't let him finish. "It happened too quickly for you to prevent it." She patted his chest and kissed his chin. "Don't frown so. It's over and done."

He couldn't believe she was soothing him. "You're taking this loss remarkably well," he told her.

Nicholaa kept right on smiling. It took her a good five minutes to get him to leave the hall. She stood in the open doorway until Royce and Lawrence had crossed the courtyard.

"Is Nicholaa still standing there?" Royce asked Lawrence.

The vassal turned around to look. "No, Baron.

She's gone."

Royce immediately changed directions. "I've a suspicious nature," he told his vassal. "My wife took Morgan's treachery rather well, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, she did."

Royce smiled. "A little too well, I think. He rounded the corner and went to the ladder leading to the walkway near the top of the wall. Then he leaned against the slats and waited.

He didn't have to stand there very long. Nicholaa came flying around the corner, her skirts raised above her ankles to quicken her speed. She came to an abrupt stop when she spotted her husband lounging against the ladder.

Nicholaa hid her hands behind her back and smiled sweetly at her husband. He smiled back. He didn't take his gaze off his wife when he ordered Lawrence to return to his duties, and as soon as the vassal had walked away, he motioned Nicholaa closer with the crook of his finger.

Royce waited until she was standing directly in front of him. Then he put his hand out.

She lost her smile and backed up a step.

"Fair's fair, Nicholaa," he announced. "If I can't hurt him, neither can you. Give it to me."

She looked thoroughly disgruntled. "How did you know?"

He touched the mark on his forehead. "I used logic."

She put the leather sling in his outstretched hand. She dropped the two stones on the ground.

"You thought you might miss with the first stone?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I never miss. The other was for Henry."

He started laughing. She didn't know what to make of that. She took another step back.

"I've taken you away from your duties long enough," she announced. Her disappointment over not being able to give Morgan and Henry a proper send-off still chafed. She wanted to shout at her husband because he wouldn't let her have her way. She stared at the sling dangling from his fingers, took a deep breath, and then said, "I shall try to keep my temper under control."

"Does that mean you'll smile even more often?"

"Yes."

"God help me."

Her gaze flew to his. "He already helped me," she whispered. "He gave me you."

She always took him by surprise when she said such incredibly wonderful things to him. He pulled away from the ladder, took hold of his wife's hand, and started walking toward the castle.

They walked side by side without saying a word to each other. She thought he was taking her back to the great hall so he could sit her down and lecture her.

Yet when they reached the table and the chairs, he didn't let go of her hand. He just continued tugging her along toward the screens that hid their bed.