Julie Garwood - The Prize

Ten minutes passed, and still his wife hadn't returned. Royce went after her. He heard the sound of retching when he reached the trees. Justin came up to speak to him and also heard the noise.

"Your sister's ill," Royce said.

"Shouldn't we go to her?" Justin asked, his concern obvious.

Royce shook his head. "Give her a few more minutes of privacy. If she doesn't come back then, I'll go to her."

The two men stood side by side, waiting. Several more minutes passed in silence.

"Was it something she ate, do you suppose?" Justin asked. The sound of retching had stopped, but Nicholaa still hadn't walked back to the clearing.

"No," Royce answered. "She's made herself ill worrying, Justin."

"What is she worrying about?"

"You."

Justin didn't know what to say to that.

Nicholaa came toward them then. She frowned when she saw the two of them standing there, then went to kneel by the stream. She rinsed her mouth with the cool water, then patted water on her face.

"Nicholaa?" Justin called out. "Have you really made yourself sick worrying about me?"

She turned around to look up at her brother. "No," she answered. "I'm sick for quite another reason."

Justin looked relieved. He pulled her to her feet.

"I am worried about you, though," she told him. "Justin, please understand. I'm your older sister, and I'll always try to protect you." She turned to Royce. "If you were going to compete in these games, I'd be worried about you, too. If that means I lack faith in either of you, my only defense is that I love you both."

"Then it was something you ate that made you sick?" Royce asked.

Nicholaa gave him a roundabout answer. "I'm feeling fine now."

Royce didn't look convinced. He seemed preoccupied during dinner, and when they'd finished, he went to the stream. She followed him.

He was bent on worrying about her now, and Nicholaa didn't think a lecture would ease his mind. A spontaneous action might, though.

Her husband was kneeling beside the stream. He'd taken his tunic off and was splashing water over his neck and chest. Nicholaa walked up behind him and used the flat of her foot against his solid backside to give him a quick shove.

He didn't budge. He did turn around, though, and give her a most incredulous look.

She laughed and then tried to push him into the water again.

He thought she'd lost her mind. "I'm being spontaneous," she announced as she lunged for him a second time. "But you aren't cooperating."

He still didn't fall into the water. Nicholaa backed up, thinking to try again, but Royce suddenly stood up. He deliberately glanced over his shoulder at the water, then looked at her and grinned.

She knew what he was going to do, of course, and immediately lifted her skirts to run in the opposite direction.

He caught her from behind. She let out a shrill scream. Royce picked her up, turned, and held her over the water.

Soldiers came running. She and Royce were suddenly surrounded by armed men ready to defend them.

She was both horrified and embarrassed.

Royce laughed at the blush that covered her face. He dismissed his soldiers, and when they were once again alone, he bent down and kissed her forehead. "I love you, Nicholaa."

"I love you, too."

They shared a long kiss. Nicholaa quite forgot where they were. His touch was magical, and when he was holding her in his arms, all she could think about was him.

She was standing with his arms around her waist when he finally ended the kiss. She stared up into his eyes for a long while until she regained her wits. She noticed the sparkle in his beautiful eyes, that adorable rascal's smile. She noticed something else, too. She was standing in the water. He wasn't.

Her intent was to make him forget to worry about her for just a little while, and when he started laughing, she knew she'd succeeded.

He sat down on the grassy bank, pulled her out of the water and into his lap, laughing over his cunning still, and helped her take off her soggy shoes.

"Royce, if you forgot something, would there still be time to go back home to fetch it?"

"No," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"If you wanted to take something back you couldn't do that, either, could you?"

"No."

She gave him a radiant smile. "I have something to tell you," she whispered.

She didn't go on. She folded her hands in her lap and turned her gaze to his chest. Her sudden shyness made him smile. "What is it, Nicholaa?"

"We're going to have a baby."

He was too stunned to react at first. Then he was speechless.

She peeked up to see how he was taking her announcement. She laughed when she saw the look of astonishment on his face. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks, and she wondered how it was possible to laugh and cry at the same time even as she continued to do just that.

Royce's hand shook when he gently touched her face. "You're certain about this?" he asked her in a gruff whisper.

It was of course a very logical question. It wasn't logical that after she told him she was certain, he repeated the same question two more times. He couldn't seem to accept it.

"You're pleased, husband?"

"Yes." He didn't say another word. He didn't need to. There was so much emotion in that simple acknowledgment, so much love. He put his arms around her and held her against him. He was still having difficulty putting his thoughts into words. They stayed that way for a long while, holding each other, kissing, whispering to each other. Every now and then she'd feel him tremble.

Oh, yes, he was very pleased.

The fields outside London had been turned into a paradise of color. Tents with each baron's colors sprinkled the hills overlooking the site where the games would be held. The king's quarters, on the opposite side, were gigantic and far more elegant than all the others.

It seemed to Nicholaa that everyone in England was in attendance. Women, dressed in their finest gowns, strolled beside the jousting fields so they could be noticed by the men. Children ran from cart to cart, snatching sweets. Minstrels moved through the crowd, singing romantic ballads. Heralds were busy watching everyone so they could accurately record the history of the event in their minds for future recitation.

Only six barons had received the honor of having their men engage in the games. Had all the barons been allowed to enter, the festive occasion would have lasted a month or more.

The experienced soldiers engaged in combat first. Nicholaa stood on the side of the hill with Justin at her side and all the other younger soldiers lined up behind her. They cheered for Lawrence and his team. Baron Hanson's soldiers were almost immediately defeated. Baron George's soldiers left the fields next. By early afternoon only two divisions remained. Baron Guy's soldiers were now pitted against Baron Royce's, just as everyone had predicted.

Nicholaa was too nervous to cheer. She didn't watch Lawrence, either. She kept her gaze locked on her husband. He stood at the side of the field, directly across from Guy.

Each time Royce smiled, Nicholaa let out a little sigh of relief. When he frowned, her stomach did a flip. A deafening roar suddenly caught her attention. She turned to the field. Only Lawrence and Henry remained now. Royce's vassal was standing over Henry. Guy's soldier was sprawled on the ground. The tip of Lawrence's sword touched Henry's neck. Lawrence wasn't looking at his prey, though. He was staring at Royce, waiting for his signal.

Nicholaa held her breath. Royce took his sweet time making up his mind. A silence fell over the crowd. Royce turned to his king, caught his smile, and then finally turned back to Lawrence.

Royce finally shook his head. Lawrence immediately backed away from Henry, giving him enough room to get up and leave the field.

It didn't take Lawrence so long to defeat Morgan. Nicholaa thought Lawrence didn't want to take the time to toy with him. He knocked him into a sound sleep within ten minutes.

Only Royce's soldiers remained on the field now. They lined up and walked over to their baron. Their stride was arrogant, their grins telling.

Royce didn't show any outward reaction to the victory. When his soldiers joined him, he merely nodded, then turned and walked to the king's platform. His soldiers fell in behind their baron.

William stood up, raised his hand for silence, and then proclaimed in a shout that once again Baron Royce's soldiers had proved their excellence. They would all be suitably rewarded. The cheers were nearly deafening.

Nicholaa clasped her hands together and said a prayer of thanksgiving for the victory.

It would soon be time for the younger soldiers to participate. Nicholaa turned to her brother and took his hand. "No matter what happens, I want you to know how proud I am of you," she whispered.

Since the other soldiers were watching, she didn't hug him. She squeezed his hand instead. God's truth, she didn't want him to go down that hill. She forced herself to let go of him. Bryan helped Justin put on the leather hauberk. Justin flexed his arms. The left sleeve was a bit stiffer than the right. Nicholaa watched her brother adjust the fit, then nod with satisfaction.

The trumpets sounded from the field, calling the soldiers into position. The men bowed to Nicholaa, straightened their shoulders, and then fell into line behind their commander. Justin led the procession down the hill.

Nicholaa watched her brother follow the path down to the base of the hill. She spotted Royce then. He'd walked across the field and was now waiting at the edge for his soldiers to join him. He would give them his instructions, then await his second victory.

Nicholaa could see her husband clearly. He was smiling. The most remarkable thing happened to her then. Every bit of her fear vanished. She drew such strength from her husband's arrogant confidence.

Royce looked up at Nicholaa. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She looked like a vision to him, dressed in shimmering blue. She was a beautiful woman, yes, but what captivated Royce was her smile.

Justin had to clear his throat in order to get his baron's attention. Royce seemed content to stand there staring up at his wife for the rest of the afternoon. The other soldiers were already in deep discussion with their barons, who were issuing last-minute instructions.

Royce forced himself to turn away from his wife. He gave his soldiers one simple order. "You will give me victory today." He then turned and walked by Justin's side toward the center of the field.

"Will we use swords, Baron?" Justin asked.

"The king will decide. Wait until you receive his instructions."

Justin nodded. There was still a fair distance to walk. He cleared his throat again. "Baron?"

"Yes?"

"I noticed that over the past few weeks you've seemed more concerned about training me than the others. Was that because you had less faith in my ability?"

Royce held his smile. Justin was experiencing an attack of pre-battle worries. It was a common affliction, especially among the younger, unseasoned soldiers.

"As your baron, I have complete faith in your ability. I didn't give you this honor, Justin. You earned it. As your brother, however, I'll admit I've forced you to work harder. You have to be better than the others, remember?"

"I remember."

"You have fulfilled my expectations," Royce announced, giving him the praise he knew he needed to hear.

"Thank you."

Royce did smile then. "You insult me by giving me your gratitude," he said. "As your baron, I was only doing my duty."

Justin didn't look at Royce but kept his gaze directed on the center of the field. "I wasn't thanking my baron," he said. His voice was gruff with emotion. "I was thanking my brother."

Royce gave Justin an affectionate cuff on the side of his neck. They reached the center of the field. Justin and the other nine were the first to arrive. The other competitors were still in huddles with their barons.

"Was there something more you wished to say to us?" Justin asked when the baron started to walk away.

Royce turned around. "The others need further instruction. You don't. I've told you what I expect. Victory, Justin. Nothing less."