The King's Champion. Catherine March
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“Are you indeed a wanton,
Eleanor?” he demanded in
a rough voice.
“I did not mean—” she protested, but her words were cut short.
“I can see it in your eyes, as they follow me about the hall. Is this what you want?” Troye grasped her chin between his fingers and tipped her face up.
He lowered his head and his mouth came down on hers. His rough jaw scratched her tender skin, and she could smell and taste musky maleness laced with wine. Suddenly his hold loosened and his arms slid around her waist.
“I had forgotten,” he murmured, as he pressed his lips to her neck and for a moment breathed in the soft, sweet smell of her skin.
“What had you forgotten?”
“The feel of a woman.” His fingers smoothed down the curve of her back and she gave a little cry, her fingers clutching at his tunic. Troye realized her shock, that she had no experience of men, that this was no doubt her first real kiss, and cursed softly.
The King’s Champion
Harlequin® Historical
MILLS & BOON
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Praise for Catherine March
“A good study of medieval England during William’s invasion, this tale will appeal to both genre fans and those looking for a bard-like tale of knightly love.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on My Lady English
Author Note
During the years 1296–1305, Edward I mounted his first campaign to subdue Scotland and force Scottish loyalty to the crown of England. It was just the first of several campaigns over several decades. The events of this story are, therefore, only loosely based upon the events of the first campaign. The King’s Champion features characters you will have already met in The Knight’s Vow.
CATHERINE MARCH
THE KING’S CHAMPION
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
Available from Harlequin®Historical and CATHERINE MARCH
My Lady English #822
The Knight’s Vow #234
The King’s Champion #906
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For the Quartermaster
With love
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Arundel Castle—20 April 1289
To celebrate spring the King had called a royal tourney. The scent of grass and apple trees bursting into blossom sweetened the air, welcome after the harsh and long winter. Yet their pastel hues of pink and cream paled in comparison to the bright colours of the hundreds of pavilions mushrooming across the meadows surrounding the castle. Some were of plain canvas, belonging to knights of lesser standing who hoped to win rich prizes and prestige with their skill at the joust, but most were striped in a varied combination of expensive colours, and on the lusty breeze heraldic banners waved from the topmost point of each pavilion.
The grounds were bustling with knights and squires, horses and heralds, strolling ladies and their lords, the noise of blacksmiths hammering at dented armour and cast shoes adding to the hubbub floating on the air. The sky spanned a cloudless blue above them and children romped in the sunshine, bursting with energy after many days confined indoors during the winter months.
Two knights sauntered, one very fair and the other dark, looking about with interest. They conversed earnestly upon the merits of their opponents, and occasionally commented on the several attractive filles de joie today present; they smiled politely at the former, with a small bow, and grinned broadly at the latter, with a brazen wink.
Their progress was hampered as two children suddenly burst from between a row of pavilions, striped in red and yellow and flying the banner of Lord Henry Raven of Ashton. The fair knight exclaimed and jumped back, clutching at his friend’s elbow in a warning gesture as two wooden swords chopped through the air.
‘Allez!’ shouted the one child, attacking the other with fierce swipes from side to side that greatly impressed the knights as they watched.
The children were dressed identically in linen tunics and chausses, cross-gartered, and the fiercest of the child-combatants had a blue scarf tied about his head. Although smaller than his opponent, he charged down boldly with lithe, graceful strides, swinging his sword with an accurate