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Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
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remained cool. "I am without my sword. If you would allow me to
collect it, I would be happy to teach you a lesson of my own."
A weapon came flying at
him, courtesy of Lon. Garren deftly caught it, noting it was nothing the size
or strength of his own sword. Alger didn't permit him to take a breath before
he was flying at him, sword wielded high.
Garren easily deflected
the blow, but he was at a disadvantage. He was half way up the wooden stairs
and to lose his balance would cause him to tumble several steps. So he
descended carefully, unable to take the offense against Alger as the man
pounded him mercilessly. But once they were on the level ground of the ward,
the tides turned.
"Uncle Alger,"
Derica begged. "Please stop this. You're being foolish."
Alger growled and
grunted, once landing blows, now deflecting them. He ignored his niece, who
pulled away from Lon and scampered down the steps.
"Stop this, I
say!" she hissed. "You're going to be injured!"
"The only one who
is going to be injured is...," he grunted, warding off a strong blow aimed
at his head. "... your intended. Any man who attempts to sully your honor
gets the same."
"He didn't attempt to
sully my honor," Derica insisted. "He was a perfect knight. In fact,
he is the one who removed me from the hall so your boyish games would not
injure me."
"You mean that he
removed you from the hall to take advantage of you," Lon said behind her.
"He is had his way with whores in the Holy Land and now he wants to have
his way with you."
Somehow the thought of
Garren being intimate with dark-skinned women didn't sit well with Derica. In
fact, the thought of him with any woman didn't sit well with her. She watched
Garren toy with her uncle, convinced he could kill the older man if he wanted
to.
"Tell them you were
not trying to have your way with me or they'll nip at your heels like dogs for
the rest of your life," she told him.
Garren distracted Alger
with a thrust while managing to get his foot in behind the man. Alger tripped
and fell heavily, and his sword went into the mud.
"Gladly," he
said, hardly winded. "I was not trying to have my way with your niece. I
was simply talking to her."
Alger was furious and
humiliated. "You are a liar. We saw you touch her."
"Her hand,"
Garren lowered his sword. "You saw me touch her hand. Harmless, I assure
you. And if I wanted to ravage her, do you think I would do it out here in the
bailey for everyone to see? I would have taken her somewhere where no one could
find us."
Alger struggled up from
the mud, glowering. It was enough of a distraction to allow Lon to race down
the steps and leap onto Garren's back. Derica shrieked, unwisely entering the
melee by trying to pull Lon off of Garren. Garren had no idea she was behind
him until he brought his sword up in an attempt to dislodge Lon and ended up
striking Derica instead.
She cried out, the upper
portion of her right arm sliced by the weapon. The men forgot their battle,
their eyes wide at the sight of her blood.
Garren was the first one
to Derica's side. "Let me have a look," he took her arm gently.
"Come on... that's a good girl. Let me see what I have done to you."
There were tears in her
eyes, making their way down her cheeks as he peeled the tatters of her sleeve
away. The wound hurt tremendously and she wasn't very good at hiding it.
"I am sorry, Garren."
Garren's expression was
warm and reassuring as he examined the injury. "Sorry for what?" he
asked gently. "I am the one who struck you, therefore, I am the one who is
sorrier than words can express."
"But I got in the
way...."
"You were
attempting to help me. That is noble and courageous, and I am indebted to
you."
Lon had bolted off,
screaming that Derica had been mortally injured. Alger remained, trying to
gain a look at the injury.
"It is a decent
cut," he said. "Better to take her inside to clean it."
Garren agreed; it was a
long nick and somewhat deep. It was going to need a few
collect it, I would be happy to teach you a lesson of my own."
A weapon came flying at
him, courtesy of Lon. Garren deftly caught it, noting it was nothing the size
or strength of his own sword. Alger didn't permit him to take a breath before
he was flying at him, sword wielded high.
Garren easily deflected
the blow, but he was at a disadvantage. He was half way up the wooden stairs
and to lose his balance would cause him to tumble several steps. So he
descended carefully, unable to take the offense against Alger as the man
pounded him mercilessly. But once they were on the level ground of the ward,
the tides turned.
"Uncle Alger,"
Derica begged. "Please stop this. You're being foolish."
Alger growled and
grunted, once landing blows, now deflecting them. He ignored his niece, who
pulled away from Lon and scampered down the steps.
"Stop this, I
say!" she hissed. "You're going to be injured!"
"The only one who
is going to be injured is...," he grunted, warding off a strong blow aimed
at his head. "... your intended. Any man who attempts to sully your honor
gets the same."
"He didn't attempt to
sully my honor," Derica insisted. "He was a perfect knight. In fact,
he is the one who removed me from the hall so your boyish games would not
injure me."
"You mean that he
removed you from the hall to take advantage of you," Lon said behind her.
"He is had his way with whores in the Holy Land and now he wants to have
his way with you."
Somehow the thought of
Garren being intimate with dark-skinned women didn't sit well with Derica. In
fact, the thought of him with any woman didn't sit well with her. She watched
Garren toy with her uncle, convinced he could kill the older man if he wanted
to.
"Tell them you were
not trying to have your way with me or they'll nip at your heels like dogs for
the rest of your life," she told him.
Garren distracted Alger
with a thrust while managing to get his foot in behind the man. Alger tripped
and fell heavily, and his sword went into the mud.
"Gladly," he
said, hardly winded. "I was not trying to have my way with your niece. I
was simply talking to her."
Alger was furious and
humiliated. "You are a liar. We saw you touch her."
"Her hand,"
Garren lowered his sword. "You saw me touch her hand. Harmless, I assure
you. And if I wanted to ravage her, do you think I would do it out here in the
bailey for everyone to see? I would have taken her somewhere where no one could
find us."
Alger struggled up from
the mud, glowering. It was enough of a distraction to allow Lon to race down
the steps and leap onto Garren's back. Derica shrieked, unwisely entering the
melee by trying to pull Lon off of Garren. Garren had no idea she was behind
him until he brought his sword up in an attempt to dislodge Lon and ended up
striking Derica instead.
She cried out, the upper
portion of her right arm sliced by the weapon. The men forgot their battle,
their eyes wide at the sight of her blood.
Garren was the first one
to Derica's side. "Let me have a look," he took her arm gently.
"Come on... that's a good girl. Let me see what I have done to you."
There were tears in her
eyes, making their way down her cheeks as he peeled the tatters of her sleeve
away. The wound hurt tremendously and she wasn't very good at hiding it.
"I am sorry, Garren."
Garren's expression was
warm and reassuring as he examined the injury. "Sorry for what?" he
asked gently. "I am the one who struck you, therefore, I am the one who is
sorrier than words can express."
"But I got in the
way...."
"You were
attempting to help me. That is noble and courageous, and I am indebted to
you."
Lon had bolted off,
screaming that Derica had been mortally injured. Alger remained, trying to
gain a look at the injury.
"It is a decent
cut," he said. "Better to take her inside to clean it."
Garren agreed; it was a
long nick and somewhat deep. It was going to need a few
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