Julie Garwood: The Prize

Guy drew Royce's attention then. The baron walked toward Royce. An arrow protruded from his shoulder. Royce went to help Guy leave the field.

Nicholaa didn't stand there watching a minute longer. She went back inside the tent, replaced the sling and the one remaining stone in Royce's packet, and then sat down to wait for the lecture she was sure was coming.

She'd interfered. That was probably how Royce would begin his lecture. Then he'd tell her that it simply wasn't acceptable to kill another baron's vassal.

She would interrupt him, of course, and tell him she didn't care about anyone but him. Yes, she'd defend her actions, and in the end, he would certainly agree.

Nicholaa worked herself into quite a state of nerves in little time at all. She finally accepted the real reason she was so upset: she had killed a man. She'd never taken a life before, and she never wanted to again. Yet she knew she would if it was the only way to protect her husband.

Lord, she was exhausted. She stretched out on the cot and closed her eyes. An expectant mother shouldn't have this kind of excitement, she decided, and she was going to tell Royce just that if he dared to even frown at her.

She could be thankful for one small blessing, she supposed. Royce was the only one who knew about the sling. She knew from the way he'd turned to look up at her that he'd already concluded she'd interfered. Still, he was as loyal to her as she was to him. He wouldn't tell anyone.

When Royce came into the tent an hour later, Nicholaa was sound asleep. He sat down beside her and stared at her angelic face for a long while. He knew she needed her rest, but he was going to have to wake her. He stroked the side of her face.

"Nicholaa? Wake up, love."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"I love you, Nicholaa," he whispered.

Her head cleared. "I interfered. Are you angry?"

"No."

She didn't let him go on. "I'm not sorry. No matter how many lectures you give me, I still won't be sorry. I do have faith in you, Royce, but Morgan could still have put an arrow through your heart all the same."

"Sweetheart-"

"Why did you bring my sling?" she interrupted.

"I thought, if there was time, you'd show me how to use it," he admitted.

"I killed him, Royce." Tears filled her eyes.

He gently gathered her into his arms and soothed her.

"Is Baron Guy going to be all right?"

"Yes," Royce answered. "The dispute was settled when he put himself in front of me and took the arrow. It was an act of contrition, I think, for past offenses. Guy won't be training soldiers any longer. He admits he doesn't have the temperament for the duty."

She nodded. "Why did his vassals attack? They must have known they wouldn't get away with such treachery."

"The king had already sentenced them to die," he explained. "They didn't have anything to lose." Royce didn't go into the reasons behind the king's decision. Nicholaa had had enough excitement for one day, and there was more to come tonight.

"Royce, you won't tell anyone I killed Morgan, will you? Promise me," she demanded.

"I promise." He almost laughed. Nicholaa had obviously forgotten about Clayton the herald.

"The king would be upset," she whispered. "I didn't deliberately kill the man, but William might not understand that. Morgan turned at the last second; he must have changed his mind. It was too late, though. I'd already dispatched my stone."

"He didn't change his mind, only his target."

She let out a sigh. "I want to go home," she said.

Royce would give her what she wanted. They would leave for home the following morning. Nicholaa was forced to endure a little more excitement that evening. She stood next to Royce in front of the entire gathering while Clayton the herald, whose only duty in life was to poke his nose into everyone else's affairs, once again sang the legend of Lady Nicholaa. She stayed calm until Clayton sang the newest verses. She heard the word "sling" and let out a low groan. Royce laughed. His wife had finally remembered where Clayton had been standing when she'd intervened.

The king came forward and embraced Nicholaa. Matilda hugged her next. Nicholaa found out then that the king had been Morgan's target. She hadn't realized until that minute exactly what she'd done. She reacted to all the attention by edging closer to Royce's side and blushing pink.

It seemed an eternity passed before he was finally able to take Nicholaa back to their tent. He was as eager to go home as she was. He wanted to work on the black queen. It had to be finished-perfect, too-before their baby was born.

It suddenly dawned on him how radically she had changed his life. He'd learned how to love, and was loved in return.

Good times as well as bad times lay ahead of them. There was still Thurston to deal with, but Royce knew his wife would stand by his side no matter what happened.

He glanced down at the beautiful woman climbing the hill at his side. He was filled with such contentment. Because he was a logical man, he tried to make sense out of what had happened to him. Nicholaa had made such blissful chaos out of his drawn map of life. He tried to reason it through.

Then he put the question to her.

Nicholaa laughed before answering him. "It's very simple, my love. You never had a chance." She reached up to pat the tiny scar on his forehead. Then she laughed again.

Royce lifted her into his arms and held her close. He would let her believe she had caught him. He knew better, though. He'd set out to capture a legend.

And that was exactly what he'd done.