He glimpsed Storm yards away, standing with his father’s horse. The light cadence of hoofbeats sounded behind him, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder, side-stepping so as not to take his view from Lord Luther.
Mace moved his warhorse into Osmont’s path, blocking him from interfering.
Julian focused on his father and his familiar great helm with the slitted eye slots and the holes near his mouth. Julian grimaced.
“What’s wrong, boy?” he growled, holding his sword before him with two hands. “No desire to follow through? That has always been your fault.” He circled him. “I do what I must to win. Anything and everything. I even smashed your lances to give Osmont the advantage.”
“Youdid that?” Julian gasped. Rage hurtled through him, but he suppressed it. Lord Luther was clever, and he was a seasoned warrior. It was time for Julian to prove his worth.
“Even then, you sought to defy me,” his father growled. “You still won.”
Through the slates in Luther’s helmet, Julian could see the hate burning in his father’s eyes. He recalled being a boy and seeing the same look. He’d tried to please his father, tried to get him to be proud of him, but he never could. He lowered the shield slightly as the realization came over him. His father would never love him. He would never see him as anything but worthless. “What did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”
His father surged forward with a loud cry. He knocked his shoulder into Julian, sending him to his back. He batted the shield aside and lifted his sword high, driving it down hard, straight toward Julian’s heart.
Chapter Twenty Six
Elora frantically scoured the physician’s tents.When she couldn’t find Julian, she raced to the Refuge, a space for knights to rest and resolve their ransom issues. Now, she paced the roped-off area, staring into the field, watching knights strike at each other with swords and lances. She saw one knight race past her with the colors of Scotland. Another wore the heraldry of the Dumont family. Many were too far away to make out who they were. Occasionally, a battle would come so close to the Refuge that she could hear the grunts of the knights as they swung their two-handed swords.
She exchanged glances with one knight who stood inside the roped-off area. She didn’t recognize him, but he looked tired and battered. His dark hair was plastered to his head with sweat. He held his helmet in his hand.
Her gaze swung to two other knights talking inside the Refuge, possibly discussing the arrangement for one of their ransom.
Sarah walked to her side. “I’m sure Julian is unharmed,” she whispered.
There was no way Sarah could know this as fact, so Elora realized she was just trying to comfort her. It didn’t alleviate her fear. James, their escort knight, stood steps behind them.
A knight rode his horse into the area, dismounting quickly. He called to his squire as he grasped his left hand with his right, holding it tightly. A dark-haired squire raced to his aid. The knight held up his appendage, and the squire removed his gauntlet. One finger had been completely cut off.
Elora gasped and placed her fingers to her mouth.
The squire led the knight and his horse toward the physician tents, out of the Refuge.
Terrified that Julian lay hurt in the field somewhere, Elora began to shake. She whirled to look out over the landscape again. Where was he? Anxiety twisted her stomach into knots. She desperately scanned the area of the field where she’d watched a knight stab him in his chest but saw no sign of him. He wasn’t in the physician’s tent. Where was he?
“What are you doing here?”
She spun at hearing the voice. As if her worry had conjured him, Julian stood before her, gazing at her with a slight frown of concern. She blinked for a moment, fearful she saw things. Fearful he wasn’t really there. Her heart missed a beat, and she put a hand to her chest. She could not even utter his name.
“Ellie?” he asked in apprehension, stepping closer to her.
In a rush of relief, she launched herself into his arms. “Julian,” she gasped, wrapping her hands around him. Holding him. Squeezing him. Touching him. He was there! He was alive. She pulled back suddenly, scanning his chest for a wound, running her hand across his chainmail. Her fingers hooked on a group of broken chainmail links in the center of his chest. She lifted her questioning gaze to his. “How did you—I saw a knight stab you. I thought—”
“You came here because you thought I was injured?”
“Yes!” she exhaled a shaky sob.
Julian tugged his gauntlet from his hand and ran his fingers along her cheek. “Then, you do care.”
“Oh, Julian!” She lifted up on her toes and pressed her lips to his again and again. “I’m sorry. I hurt you. I was wrong. I should never have said those things. You are not a cheat. You are not dishonorable. You are wonderful and chivalrous and…” Her gaze swept his face. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” Julian echoed in surprise. “There is nothing to forgive. I never held it against you. I couldn’t.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him.
His body was hard and strong and warm. Elora couldn’t stop touching him. She ran her hands over his shoulders to the nape of his neck. His hair brushed her fingers, and she trailed her fingers through it. She lifted up on her toes, unable to resist his lips. She parted hers, kissing him deeply. Warmth saturated her body, igniting a flood of desire and love.
When they separated, Julian was grinning, his head tilted, his eyebrows raised. “Highly inappropriate for a lady.”
Again, she looked at his chest and the broken chainmail. “What happened? I saw him strike you.”
