Where's My Hero?

  Courage, my love. I need you to possess the same fire that led you from Scotland to Normandy that first day when we met. Whatever the day brings, know that I will always love you. You carry with you, my heart, my soul, my very being.

  Be strong for me, Kenna.

  Ever your knight,

  S

  Postscriptum

  S doesn’t stand for Stryder.

  She laughed at that, even though her eyes were filled with tears.

  Blinking them away, she quickly dressed and made her way to the castle before she was discovered missing.

  But she didn’t stay there long before she headed back toward the list, where the men were training.

  As usual, none of them paid her any attention. It wasn’t until a man knew her titles and status that their heads turned.

  Except for Simon.

  He cared for her person, not her birthright.

  She found him by his horse, checking its shoes and rigging.

  He straightened as soon as her shadow fell over him. His eyes widened in surprise.

  “Kenna. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  “I know.” She handed him the small package in her hands. “But I wanted to bring you this.”

  He opened it to find the red ribbon she always wore in her hair. The one her father had given her as a present just days before he’d died.

  Today was the first day in years she’d been completely without it.

  “Since you lost the last one, I want you to wear my favor, my lord.”

  He smiled at her. “Always.”

  He kissed her lips lightly, then held his arm out so that she could tie her token around his mail-covered biceps. Her heart was weak and pain-filled at the thought of losing him today.

  Silently, she wished him God’s strength and mercy.

  As soon as she was finished, she took a small step back. “Good luck, my lord.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but the heralds called the knights forward to prepare for the march that would lead them to the show.

  Simon kissed her hand, then turned and mounted his horse. He stared down at her from his saddle.

  The gentle breeze tugged at his dark auburn locks, and his eyes burned with fiery passion and promise.

  Never had she seen a more breathtaking man.

  “God’s strength be with you,” she said.

  Simon nodded, then turned his horse away and joined the others.

  Kenna couldn’t move as she watched him head off. It was like something from a forgotten nightmare.

  “Kenna?”

  She turned to find Caledonia behind her.

  “Don’t fret, little cousin,” Callie said, taking her arm. “Simon won’t let another man win you.”

  “I pray you are right.”

  Callie pulled her off, toward the area that had been set up for spectators. Malcolm and Henry were already seated in the highest part, where a striped awning kept the sun from them.

  Callie led her to a seat behind the two kings, where Sin, who was dressed all in black, was waiting.

  “Are you not participating?” Kenna asked Sin.

  He shook his head. “I never play at war and I’ve no desire to embarrass Stryder by taking this victory from him.”

  Kenna considered his boastful statement. “If you are sure you can win this, then I beg you to take the field.”

  “Why?”

  “Should you win, I wouldn’t have to marry Stryder.”

  Malcolm laughed at that. “We wouldn’t let you out of this so easily, Kenna.”

  Aggravated by the fact her cousin was in earnest, Kenna sat quietly and waited for the event to start.

  The day wore on slowly as knight after knight clashed and defeated each other.

  Simon fought as if his life depended on the outcome; indeed it did.

  Should he lose this day, she would kill him herself.

  It was nearing dusk when it came down to the final match.

  Stryder and Simon.

  Kenna held her breath in expectation as the two knights faced each other.

  Simon was exhausted. His entire body ached from the day’s games. The last man he wanted to face was Stryder. Having sparred for years with the man in practice, he knew just how skilled a knight Stryder was.

  He knew Stryder’s weaknesses, just as Stryder knew his.

  Not once in all these years had they faced each other in earnest.

  That was about to change.

  They were at war now, Stryder to protect his honor and reputation, Simon to win his lady.

  Simon clenched the reins of his horse and eyed Stryder. He wouldn’t lose this day. There was no way he was going to cede this victory to Stryder. Whatever it took, he would win this.

  The earl of Blackmoor was about to taste his first defeat.

  The herald lowered the flag.

  Simon spurred his horse forward.

  He came at Stryder full tilt, with his lance held at the ready. The thrumming of hooves droned in his ear alongside his rapid heartbeat. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

  Stryder drew nearer.

  Simon tensed, ready for the blows.

  One…

  Two…

  He made contact with Stryder at the same time Stryder’s lance slammed into the center of his chest. Simon growled fiercely at the pain of it.

  The force of the blow knocked the wind from his body, but Simon held his saddle.

  By all the angels in heaven, he would not be unhorsed. Not today and not by Stryder.

  Struggling for breath, Simon tossed his broken lance to his squire and received a new one. He turned his horse about and walked it back toward the list.

  Stryder inclined his head to him in a respectful salute. Simon returned the gesture as they waited for the signal to begin anew.

  He glanced toward the stands where Kenna sat. He couldn’t see anything more than the color of her gown, but he swore he could feel her eyes on him. Hear her voice urging him to victory.

  He would not disappoint her.

  The flag flew out.

  For you, my love, for you….

  “Ya!” Simon urged his horse forward.

  But no sooner had he started forward than Simon felt it. A slight loosening of his saddle. It was small at first, but with the pounding hoof beats, it became more pronounced.

  Simon cursed as he realized he had no time to veer away from Stryder and the oncoming blow.

  Grinding his teeth, he met Stryder’s blow full force, but his weakened saddle wouldn’t hold, and the force of Stryder’s lance knocked him back.

  The saddle girdle broke, sending him toward the ground.

  In that moment, Simon felt the weight of his defeat.

  Damn it all!

  He slammed into the ground so hard that his teeth rattled, his bones jarred.

  For a full minute, he couldn’t breathe at all as the crowd roared with excitement over Stryder’s victory.

  Simon lay still, his broken heart hammering. His saddle lay off to the side, a testament of his ill luck.

  Nay! How could he lose to a twisted piece of fate?

  He wanted to scream out at the injustice of it.

  “Simon?”

  He barely recognized Stryder’s voice from the ringing in his ears.

  “Simon, are you all right?”

  He snarled as he felt Stryder trying to help him up. “Leave me be.” He jerked his helm from his head and glared at his friend.

  Simon ached to decry what had happened, but he wouldn’t be so childish. Nor would he undignify himself. Such things happened.

  He was defeated.

  Stryder’s eyes burned with guilt. “I’m sorry, Simon.”

  In his heart, he knew Stryder meant that. But it changed naught.

  Kenna was lost to him now. Forever.

  “Damn you, Stryder. Damn you to hell.”

  Stryder’s eyes flared in anger. A muscle worked in his jaw.

  Simon expected him to st
rike out.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, Stryder turned about and headed back toward his horse.

  Angry and hurt physically, mentally and spiritually, Simon released the laces of his coif and started to retrieve his helm from the ground where he’d tossed it. But as he reached for it, something caught his eye.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d swear it was the fading sun reflecting off a crossbow hidden on the parapets.

  He’d fought enough wars and battles to well understand such tactics. And as he glanced to Stryder, he had a horrible realization.

  The bow was aimed for Stryder.

  If he dies, Kenna is yours.

  The thought went through his mind before he could stop it. Not that it mattered.

  He could never be happy with Kenna knowing he’d let his friend die.

  Reacting on pure instinct, Simon raced for Stryder.

  Stryder cursed as he caught sight of Simon charging him. “Simon, I swear—”

  The words broke off as Simon fell forward into his arms. The man’s weight made him stagger back.

  At first he thought Simon was attacking him until he realized people around him were screaming.

  Simon was bleeding.

  Stryder gaped as he saw three crossbow bolts protruding from Simon’s back.

  “Nay!” he roared, placing Simon gently sideways on the ground. “Simon?”

  Simon shook from the pain of his wounds. His brow was covered in sweat.

  Suddenly Kenna was there, her face pale and her cheeks wet with tears.

  “Simon?” she sobbed, cradling his head in her lap.

  Simon swallowed, then coughed up blood. He held onto Kenna’s hand, unwilling to let it go. He struggled to breathe against the pain that shredded him.

  Stryder bellowed for a physician.

  But it was too late. Simon knew that. He’d known there would be no saving him when he’d seen the assassin on the battlements.

  “Don’t you dare die, Simon,” Kenna said, shaking him. “Don’t you dare…”

  He didn’t bother to argue with her. Such things were never in the hands of men.

  Instead, he kissed her hand and inhaled her warm, feminine scent.

  “Damn it, Simon,” Stryder snarled. “You weren’t supposed to do this again. You swore to me you would never hazard yourself for my life.”

  Simon took Stryder’s hand and placed it over Kenna’s. “Take care of her for me, Stryder.”

  He swallowed back the pain and then let the darkness swallow him.

  Chapter 6

  Kenna paced outside the room where Simon was being tended. The hallway was gray and stark—a perfect mirror of her mood. Stryder, Sin and Caledonia, along with Malcolm and Henry, waited with her.

  She had wanted to stay inside the room with Simon while Henry’s royal physicians tended him, but Malcolm had refused to allow it.

  “It was a remarkable thing he did,” Malcolm said as if musing aloud.

  “He’s a rather remarkable man, Majesty,” Sin said. “He never fails to protect those he loves, and he’s loyal to a fault.”

  Kenna listened while both Sin and Stryder spoke of Simon’s bravery to the kings. Sin told of how Simon, at great peril to himself, went to Scotland to make sure Sin didn’t face his enemies alone.

  Stryder told of Simon’s bravery in the Holy Land and again of his loyalty to his brother Draven. How Simon had gotten Draven’s wife, Emily, to safety while they’d been under attack by unknown assailants.

  Not that Kenna needed to hear proof of his courage or deeds. She knew all too well just how noble and decent Simon was. It was why she loved him.

  The door opened.

  Kenna looked up hopefully and rushed forward.

  The eldest of the three physicians came out, wiping his hands against a pale blue cloth.

  “How does he?” Kenna asked.

  “Not well, my lady. We have cauterized the wounds, but they are deep. We’re not sure if they pierced a major organ or not. If he lives to morning, then he may yet rise and recover. Otherwise…”

  Her stomach wrenched. “May I see him?”

  He nodded.

  Kenna didn’t wait for the others. She rushed into the room, to see Simon unconscious on the bed while the other two physicians packed their instruments and supplies.

  Simon lay on his stomach with a sheet pulled up over him. His face was pale and ghostly, and his body was covered with sweat.

  Her heart aching, she sat down beside him and brushed his wet hair back from his forehead.

  “Simon,” she whispered. “Please come back to me.”

  For four days Kenna waited in fear and uncertainty for Simon to wake, but he never moved.

  On the fifth day, Malcolm grew impatient. “Scotland needs a king on her throne, Kenna. We canna wait any longer for him to wake.”

  Kenna wanted to scream out her denial.

  But she was honor bound to do as her cousin requested, because his requests weren’t requests.

  They were kingly demands.

  Simon’s brother, Draven, who had come to be with Simon, stood on the opposite side of the crimson bed. His handsome face was dour as he looked from the king to her. “I’ll watch over him for you, Kenna. Believe me.”

  “Come, Kenna,” Malcolm said. “Let us have this wedding done with so We can go home.”

  Her heart heavy, she nodded.

  * * *

  Simon came awake to a vicious pounding in his head. He heard whispering nearby, then the sound of a door closing.

  He was hot all of a sudden. The covers over him seemed stifling, unbearable.

  He tried to kick them away, only to find them too heavy and his limbs too weak. Why did he feel this way?

  He was weaker than a newborn whelp, and his body ached as if he’d been slit open.

  It wasn’t until he focused on the sight of his brother that he remembered what had happened.

  “Stryder?” Simon asked, hoping his friend hadn’t been shot too.

  Draven moved to his side and held him down against the bed. “Shh, lie back.”

  Simon did, even though he was anxious to learn what had happened after he’d passed out. He met his brother’s gaze and noted that a few strands of gray were starting to mark Draven’s ebony hair.

  “Where’s Stryder?” he asked.

  “He left almost a sennight ago.”

  The words made Simon’s head pound even more. “Gone?” he whispered.

  Draven nodded.

  Simon closed his eyes as despair washed over him. That would mean Kenna was gone, as well.

  At least Stryder lives….

  Aye, his friend was alive, thanks to him, and married to the woman he loved. Again, thanks to him.

  At that moment, he hated himself.

  “Don’t you wish to know how long you’ve been abed?”

  Simon shook his head. He couldn’t care less.

  The only thing that mattered to him was the fact that Kenna wasn’t here with him now.

  “Would you like me to tell you about Kenna’s wedding?”

  Simon snarled at him. “Do so and I swear, brother or not, injuries or not, I shall run you through.”

  Draven arched both brows at Simon’s rancor. “Fine then, sorry I tried.”

  Draven moved away from the bed, then returned with a cup.

  Simon refused to take it.

  “You need to drink something. You’ve been—”

  “I don’t need that.”

  What he needed was to see Stryder’s wife.

  Stryder’s wife.

  The words cut through him.

  Simon rolled over to face the wall and let the pain of her loss seep through him.

  Why couldn’t he have just died? Surely no man could live with the pain in his heart that he felt.

  Behind him, he heard Draven set the goblet down on the table beside the bed, then cross the floor.

  The door opened, but Simon didn’t bother to look. No do
ubt Draven was leaving him.

  Good. He wanted to be alone.

  “He’s awake,” he heard Draven say to someone in the hallway outside. “But a word of advice, my lady. Your husband is in a foul mood.”

  Simon frowned at the words.

  He rolled over to see…

  Nay, it couldn’t be.

  He blinked as he saw Kenna drawing near the bed.

  Draven glared at him. “Be nice to her, brother.”

  Simon still couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t take his eyes off the vision that was Kenna.

  Her pale face was bright and happy. Her brown eyes fair glowed. She wore a deep crimson gown that matched the hair ribbon she’d given him.

  “You’re awake,” she breathed, her voice unsteady with her happiness.

  She threw herself over him, holding his head in her hands as she squeezed him. “Thank the Lord and all his saints for their mercy!”

  Simon was dumbfounded. He looked at Draven for an explanation, but his brother merely stood aside with his hands crossed over his chest, watching the two of them.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked Kenna.

  “Where else would I be?” she said, pulling back to stare at him.

  “With your husband.”

  She laughed at that. “I am with my husband.”

  He was even more confused than before. “Draven said Stryder had left.”

  “Aye. He did.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  Draven was the one who laughed this time. “Take mercy on the poor man, Kenna, and tell him about your wedding. He didn’t want to hear the details from me.”

  This was so odd….

  “What details?” Simon asked.

  Kenna sat back and took his hand into hers. “Malcolm had you and I married by proxy.”

  Simon blinked. Then blinked again.

  Did she say what he heard?

  “Beg pardon?”

  Kenna’s eyes turned warm, inviting. “After you were brought up here, we waited almost a week, but Malcolm had to go home. He had to be here to sign the papers in order for our marriage to be binding, and since you were nowhere near to waking, he allowed Stryder to stand in as proxy for you.”

  The king’s reversal didn’t make sense. “But why? I don’t understand what made him change his mind. I lost the show of arms.”