A Dark Champion Read Online Free PDF Page A

single dimple in his left cheek. In spite of her best intentions, she found his devilish air…
    Entertaining?
    Nay, that wasn’t really the word, she found him…well…delightful, if she dare admit it. He really was too charming for words.
    “Can I not claim mere curiosity, milady? After all, ’tis not often I find an unknown woman in my arms.”
    Rowena bit her bottom lip in an effort to suppress her smile which proved a treacherous beast against her will. “There is something about you, sir, that tells me that is not true.”
    His rich laughter rippled in her ears as he bestowed his full smile upon her. That smile did the strangest things to her body. It made her pulse race, her mind giddy.
    “Then shall we say ’tis not often I find a maid in my arms who is reluctant?”
    “Now that I believe most definitely.” She took a step backward, more afraid of her sudden desire to stay with him than of his occupation.
    Whatever was the matter with her? She’d never before wanted to be in the same country as such men, and now all of a sudden she actually wanted to take a moment to chat with this one.
    She must have drunk too much wine.
    You haven’t had a sip, Rowena. You only just now entered the hall.
    Oh, well, then it must be the excitement of the day’s events. Aye, that was it.
    That must be it.
    “If you’ll excuse me?” she asked.
    He stepped back reluctantly. “This time only, milady. When next we meet, I’ll be expecting a name for you.”
    “If that be the case, sir knight, then you shall again be disappointed.”
    Something akin to admiration glowed in those deep blue eyes. “Should I warn you, milady, I don’t take disappointment well?”
    Rowena smiled in spite of herself. She liked this verbal sparring with him. It wasn’t often she found a man or woman who could match her so effortlessly. “Only if you allow me to warn you that I don’t take warning well.”
    This time when she turned he didn’t try to stop her, but she heard his laughter again.
    Oh, she thought with a sigh. ’Twas terrible he was a knight. With such a voice and manner he would have made a fine troubadour indeed.
    Halfway across the room Rowena did her best not to yield to a desire to turn around and see if he watched her still. Over and over she told herself she didn’t care whether he watched her or not.
    He was a dreaded, brutal knight.
    And as she reached the side of a fellow minstrel, she did just happen to glance backward. Not that she was looking for him, she assured herself. It was Elizabeth, Bridget, or Marian she sought. And yet as her gaze skimmed the occupants and she saw no hint of her knight, she couldn’t suppress her disappointment.
    It’s just as well. All a man such as that can offer is early widowhood and a broken heart as he traipses from bed to bed, ever careless of a woman’s feelings.
    Those words were ever so true, yet she did wonder at what his name might have been.
    What name would fit a man of such charm and beauty? Certainly not Hugh, Henry, or Edward. Nay, he would have a name as unique as the man….
    Do stop thinking about it!
    Putting the man out of her mind, she joined her friends and forced herself to enjoy the conversation.
     
    Henry Plantagenet, king of England, ruler of Normandy, Anjou, and Aquitaine, undisputedly one of the most powerful men in the world, sat in the corner of his withdrawing room, holding a cool cloth to his head.
    His temples throbbed, his heart raced with fury, and he was quite certain that in the next few minutes he might very well die from aggravation.
    If one more knight, baron, earl, or other camethrough the doors of his room to beg him to force Stryder of Blackmoor to marry his daughter, he would kill them.
    All of them.
    He would go mad with anger and descend on the whole of his court like the Grim Reaper, seeking only peace from the locusts who were determined to kill him.
    “Here,” his wife Eleanor said as she brought him another cool cloth and placed it