Immortal Champion Read Online Free Page B

the acrid smoke, but as her lips touched his cheek, soft as a butterfly, he smiled at the sweetness in her kiss. A girl’s kiss. Outside, a single bell tolled mournfully, calling the monks to prepare for Matins. ’Twas time to be gone.
    “You are forever my champion,” Lady Eleanor whispered as he straightened, and his chest squeezed a little at the idea of being champion to any maid, even one so very young. “I would have you sit beside me at dinner on the morrow.”
    “I would be honored, my lady, but I cannot. I must ride on.”
    “In this weather?” asked the duchess from across the room.
    “Aye, Your Grace, and soon.”
    “But I would give you your proper due.” Lady Eleanor frowned and then brightened as a thought struck her. “I know—the spring tourney at York. You will attend and carry my favor.”
    “I . . .” I cannot , he began, but she had that tone again, the one that expected obedience, plus the pain was starting to creep back into her eyes. He wanted her to rest, and so instead of the truth, he offered a lie. “I will try, my lady.”
    “You will come,” she said firmly, easing herself back against the pillows. The motion, combined with the effort of speaking, brought on another fit of coughing. The screamer hurried over as her lady hacked, and Gunnar quietly backed away.
    The duchess motioned for him to follow her out. As the door closed behind them, she shook her head. “She breathed far too much smoke. I fear it may have damaged her lungs.”
    Gunnar glanced back at the door, where the sound of coughing still echoed.
    “She seems strong enough,” he said, willing it to be so. She couldn’t die, not after all that.
    “She is, usually, but she already suffered a bout of fever this winter. And now this . . .” The duchess stopped midway down the stairs and faced Gunnar. “I would have a stronger promise that you will come to York, monsire . She needs something to cling to for strength. And I do not wish to lie to her.”
    Not that she would mind if he lied, her tone said. But there were lies, and there were lies. “I understand, Your Grace. Tell Lady Eleanor . . . tell her that she will see me again after she is well.”
    The duchess considered him through narrowed eyes, then a mischievous smile spread across her face. “Well done, monsire . I can use that without compunction.”
    She truly was fair when she smiled like that; the duke was a fortunate man. As they reentered the gallery, Gunnar repeated, “I truly must be away now, Your Grace.”
    “But I intended you to have new clothes to replace those. Let me call the steward.”
    “A kind thought, Your Grace, but I have no time.” He tugged at the singed hem of his sleeve. “These will keep me warm enough. My cloak was not burned.”
    “But we . . .” She cast about as though looking for something. In the end, she twisted a large ruby ring off her thumb. “Here. Take this as thanks for your aid.”
    “But I—”
    She pressed it into hand. “No. I would give you both new clothes and gold a-plenty, but my keys were in the bower and I can unlock neither treasury nor even my personal casket just now. Take the ring, though it be poor reward for one who did so much.”
    “I did my duty as a man, Your Grace. That is all.”
    “You helped us all, and you saved Lady Eleanor. A ring is little enough. Take it, I say, and sell it to buy yourself warm new clothes before the day is out. You cannot refuse me, not after I accepted that promise.” That smile again.
    Gunnar flushed as he slipped the ring on his little finger. “I would not dare refuse a lady so kind, Your Grace. And I am most grateful. By your leave.”
    She nodded, and he bowed and backed off a few steps before he turned and trotted down the stairs. Moments later, he’d retrieved his sword and was checking the girth straps on his horses, and by the time the clouds began to pale, he was in the glade where he and Jafri had been trading places each dawn and dusk. A