Suzanne Barclay - The Champion

Simon smiled faintly at Linnet and forced himself to look away. Unfortunately, the Crusade had been not only a dismal failure, but a living hell. Deplorable living conditions, temble weather, disease, lack of supplies, loneliness. These had taken more of a toll on the Crusaders than the infidels’ swords and arrows. “We killed our share,” he allowed.

Aiken’s lower lip came out. “Wish I could have trained to be a soldier instead of a spicier,” he grumbled. “Then Tilly wouldn’t look down her nose at me.”

“There are other girls in Durleigh,” Linnet said gently. “Girls who would realize that a successful apothecary can earn twenty times what a soldier would.”

“Lot ye know.” Aiken shoved back the bench he shared with Drusa, nearly toppling the woman.

Simon caught hold of Drusa’s hand to steady her and glared up at Aiken. “Courtesy to others, especially women, is one of the first duties a knight learns.”

Aiken paled. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I am sure ye didn’t,” Drusa said hastily.

“Sit, then, lad, and I will tell you of the wonders I saw while in the Holy Land.”

“Tilly would certainly be impressed,” said Linnet.

Aiken sat and listened eagerly, but it was to Linnet that Simon spoke as he spun tales of sailing ships and cities with gold-domed buildings, of endless deserts and towering palms, strange people and even stranger animals. Time drifted away until he suddenly realized that Linnet’s face had gone pale and dark smudges rimmed her eyes. “You are tired.”

“It is fascinating.”

“Nonetheless, I should go.” He stood slowly, reluctant to leave the cozy kitchen and the woman who intrigued him more with each passing moment.

She rose beside him. “Have you some place to stay?”

“The Royal Oak.” He grinned down at her, thinking how small she was—her head came to the center of his chest. And how close, only a foot separating them. His body hummed with the desire to take the single step that would bring them together. He relished the ache, for it had been a long time since he had felt passion stir this sharply, other than in his special dream.

“Sir Nicholas and Sir Guy, two of my fellow Crusaders, went to the inn earlier to reserve a room. They are likely wondering what’s become of me.” Still he could not look away from her.

“Come, Aiken,” said Drusa. “It’s time we were settling in, too. Go through to the shop and make certain all is locked.”

Linnet nibbled on her lower lip, her eyes eloquent. “Let me give you a torch to light the way, Sir Simon.” She lit a pitch-tipped pole in the coals and handed it to him. Stepping outside with him, she pointed the way. “The path is over there and leads through the hedge to the inn’s backyard.” She sounded as breathless as he felt.

Knowing he should not touch her, but unable to help himself, Simon put his hand under her chin and lifted it. “Linnet. I would like to call upon you again.”

“Oh, I would like that above all things.” She smiled.

“Tomorrow, then.” He lowered his head, just to brush her lips with his, but the moment they touched, he was lost. Her mouth was so soft it seemed to melt beneath his. Groaning, Simon slid his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss.

She responded so sweetly, her hands coming up to clutch at his tunic as she followed where he led. Her throaty moans set his blood afire, but when he slipped his tongue inside to explore her more thoroughly, she started and drew back.

“Easy.” Simon lifted his head but kept his hand on her nape, soothing her slender neck with his thumb. “I would never hurt or force you.”

Her chuckle was unsteady, and she leaned her forehead into his chest. “I am afraid it would not be force.”

Simon groaned and closed his eyes, praying for strength. “You should not tell me that.”

“Why?”

He looked down to find his features reflected in her wide, passion-hazed eyes.

“Because, I do not trust myself to guard your innocence.”

Pain flickered in her eyes. Or was it a trick of the half light? “Perhaps I am not as innocent as you think.”

Simon smiled indulgently, pleased that she wanted him enough to lie about her experience. “I will be back tomorrow.” He guided her to the door, bade her lock it and stayed until he heard the bar drop. Then he went off to the inn, his step lighter than when he’d left the bishop.

Linnet sagged against the door frame, her knees still weak, her body trembling from the force of her reaction to Simon.

“The Lord does work in miraculous ways,” Drusa said as she bustled about putting away the remains of their meal.

Linnet straightened and tried to calm her raging emotions. “Aye, it is a miracle six of Durleigh’s Crusaders returned.”

“To be sure I’ll give thanks when I go to the cathedral for mass. That he should be one of them is the true miracle.”

“What do you mean?” Linnet had never discussed Simon with anyone except her mother and Thurstan.

“Yer mama said ye were taken with him.”

If you only knew. “He was unaware of my interest in him then,” Linnet said primly. Why should he have noticed? They had never met face-to-face or spoken a word until he had stumbled out of the darkness and rescued her from Hamel’s unwanted attentions.

Drusa cocked her gray head. “Well, I’ve seen the way he looks at ye. My Reggie used to watch me so when we were courting, like he couldn’t wait to get me off in some shadowy corner and steal a kiss.”

“I do not know what you mean,” Linnet said airily. But the memory of the kiss made her cheeks burn and her lips tingle.

Drusa chuckled. “Ye cannot fool me, dearling. I’ve served this house since ye were born, and I know ye inside and out.”

Linnet’s smile dimmed. There was one thing Drusa did not know. Nor did Simon. She felt something akin to relief wash through her. If he recalled nothing, then perhaps she would not have to confess that their loving had produced consequences.

Consequences. What a cold, inadequate way to describe something at once so terrible and so wonderful it had marked her forever. If only she had been stronger….

Do not think of it, for that way lay madness.

“This was but an accidental meeting. He may not return.”

“Oh, he’ll be back.” Drusa grinned. “Now, off to bed with ye. We cannot have ye all hollow-eyed when he comes calling.”

Linnet just shook her head, but she climbed the stairs and readied for bed with a lighter heart than she had in years.

Simon was alive. Simon was back.

Suddenly the future did not seem so bleak and lonely. She was just pulling on her nightshift when she remembered Thurstan. How could she have been so selfish not to have thought of him sooner? He would be overjoyed to discover Simon was alive. First thing tomorrow, she must go to the cathedral and tell him.

That decided, Linnet knelt beside her bed, crossed herself and prayed to a God she had almost ceased to believe in when word of Simon’s death had come. She begged forgiveness for that, thanked the Lord most fervently for sparing Simon, and added a plea that the return of his son would lift Thurstan’s spirits.

Lastly, she prayed for the well-being of the babe she and Simon had made that long-ago night.

The babe she had given away.

Linnet shuddered as the pain lanced through her, followed by a wave of longing so sharp it made her moan. If only she could hold her baby daughter for just a moment. But she did not even know where the baby was. Thurstan had assured her the babe was not only loved and accepted in the home he had found for her, she would not bear the stain of bastardy. That alone had given Linnet the courage to give her up. But knowing her daughter was better off did not still the ache in her heart.