Champion of the Heart by Laurel O'Donnell Page B

before turning to his large friend. “It’s time, Pick,” Fox said softly.
    Pick nodded his head and reached into his mouth. He pulled out a thin piece of metal that had been held in place in a large gap in his back teeth and held it up before him.
    The sliver of metal was barely visible to Fox in the murky gloom. But the sound of metal against metal as Pick slid it into the lock on the manacles was clearly audible in the darkness.
     
     

Chapter Nine
     

     
     
    J ordan shook the water from her velvet dress. It would dry. She had been so angry returning to her room that she spilled the water all over the front of her dress.
    She changed into a white velvet gown with gold trim and left her hair down. A headband of gold encircled her head. She was braiding her long locks as she moved down the stairs when suddenly she heard the cry.
    “Fire!”
    Jordan dropped her hands from her hair, lifting her eyes to the hallway below her.
    “Fire!” a shout sounded through the inner courtyard. “Fire!”
    Immediately, she bolted down the stairs, running as fast as she could. She whipped around the corner...
    ... and almost slammed into a wall of flesh. She lifted her eyes for a hurried apology, but stopped dead. Fox stood before her. Two other men appeared to be with him, their gazes warily scanning their surroundings.
    Fox! But how? What in heaven’s name was he doing out of the dungeon? Jordan opened her mouth in shock, to call out for help. But Fox’s eyes darkened and he grabbed her arm, pulling her to him, slapping his palm across her mouth, silencing any cry of alarm she had been about to make. “It doesn’t look like you’ll get your wish,” he growled. “The Black Fox rots in no man’s dungeon.”
    Jordan struggled in Fox’s grip. There was a fire in the castle. She had to help.
    Fox pulled her toward the door, his hand tight across her mouth. Jordan struggled harder, trying to wrench herself free. Fox only tightened his grip, moving his hold down her arm to around her waist.
    As they paused near the doors, two monks appeared from the Great Hall.
    Jordan’s eyes widened at their appearance. Her chance for escape. She lifted her foot and brought it down sharply on Fox’s. He barely noticed. He just shot her an aggravated look and pulled her even tighter to him.
    The monks approached them quickly. Jordan’s heart leaped for joy. Surely they would help her. Surely they could see Fox was holding her against her wishes. They would free her and Fox would be returned to the dungeon. She doubled her efforts to escape, twisting and turning in Fox’s hold.
    But as the monks neared, they slowed, and any sense of hope diminished from Jordan’s thoughts, then completely vanished as the monks pulled three brown robes from the confines of their clothing. These were no monks. They were friends of Fox. They were helping him escape. The two men with Fox quickly put on their robes.
    “What are you going to do with her?” one of the monks asked. A female voice, Jordan realized. “We don’t have another robe.”
    Fox quickly pointed to a rope tied around another monk’s waist, cinching the robe. “Give me that.”
    The monk untied the rope from around his waist and held it out to Fox. Fox took it and pulled Jordan’s hands roughly behind her back, binding them firmly.
    Instantly, Jordan opened her mouth to cry out, but one of the monks shoved a wad of cloth into her mouth, again silencing her.
    Fox took the final robe and tossed it over Jordan’s shoulders, lifting the hood to hide her face.
    Jordan’s mind screamed, but her cries were muffled by the ragged cloth threatening to suffocate her. She thrashed wildly in Fox’s arms, but his grip was firm and unwielding.
    Fox roughly dragged her out the door, moving silently through the inner ward. “Just stay near me,” he ordered the other monks. The monks followed his command, keeping Fox in the middle of them all, hiding him as best they could.
    Jordan glanced quickly