One Enchanted Evening (33 page)

Obviously it would take a lot of practice to be a medieval sort of gal.

Phillip came to a skidding halt just inside the tower door. “Half the garrison is gone,” he blurted out.

Pippa found herself on her feet without knowing how she’d gotten there. Montgomery swore, then held out his hand for his scabbard. He belted it around his hips, then resheathed his sword with an angry thrust.

“Damn them to hell,” he growled. “Who led them off?”

“I’m not certain, my lord,” Phillip said faintly. “There is too much confusion below to tell.”

“Come along, Pippa,” Montgomery said shortly. “I’ll see you safely downstairs.”

She wasn’t going to argue. She simply trotted along after him and kept her mouth shut until they were standing at the top of the stairs. Even she could hear the shouting below. She felt her breath begin to come in gasps. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Why?”

“I kept you from seeing to your duty—”

“You forget who was keeping whom captive, which means you’ve also forgotten who is in charge. And nay, you aren’t responsible. This battle has been brewing since Lord Denys died.”

“Battle?” she echoed weakly.

“Not to worry.” He looked over her head at Phillip. “There are a handful of knives in the trunk in my solar. Teach her to use a pair of them.”

“As you will, my lord!” Phillip said with all the enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old boy facing an enormous stack of video games and unlimited time to play them.

Montgomery paused, then looked at her. “We may have to fight our way to the solar, but once we’re there I want you to go inside and bolt the door.”

“Sure,” she managed, wondering if she would even manage to get herself downstairs without her knees buckling. “No problem.”

He squeezed her hand, hard. “I
will
keep you safe.”

She wished she’d been a little more militarily minded when she’d designed her gowns. A corseted bodice that would have doubled as body armor would have been nice. She would have to ask Tess about that sort of thing when she got home.

If
she got home.

“Pippa.”

She wrenched her gaze to his. “You’ll keep me safe.”

“I will.”

But who would keep
him
safe?

M
ontgomery
pulled the door of his solar shut and waited until he heard the bolt slam home before he spun around and looked over his great hall. He cursed viciously. It was empty, which wouldn’t have troubled him any other time, but somehow it now seemed an ominous sight. He decided it was best to see what had actually befallen the inhabitants of the keep before he closed the gates and tried to block the holes in the walls. No sense in locking enemies inside with those who needed to be protected.

He walked across the hall and into the kitchens. François was standing there, a wicked-looking knife in his hand and his lads clustered behind him. Joan was standing by his side, clutching a spit in both hands as if it had been a sword. Montgomery paused, then leaned against the wall and smiled.

“Preparing for battle?”

François’s eyes widened, then he shouted out a warning. Montgomery spun, ducking as he did so and narrowly avoiding losing his head to Boydin, who had apparently decided he’d had enough of not being lord of his own hall. Montgomery drew his sword, for he had also had enough of not being lord of his own hall.

He pushed Boydin back into the hall, giving him no choice but to retreat until he was backed up against the lord’s table. Montgomery continued to fight him until he saw other lads pouring into the hall. He quickly rid his eldest cousin of his sword, caught him full in the face with his fist, and sent him slumping backward into the remains of supper.

He turned to find what was left of his garrison, all twelve of them, wearing murderous looks. Ranulf and his lads were suddenly standing beside him with swords drawn. He supposed they could have made quick work of the garrison by themselves, but he wasn’t going to discourage Petter and the handful of masons who came running up the passageway from the kitchens carrying quite useful-looking swords.

A glance toward his solar revealed his squire, his steward, and his steward’s son hurrying out the doorway, accompanied by their own bit of decent steel. Montgomery saw the door shut again, which eased him some. He could only hope Pippa would have the good sense to keep that door shut. He couldn’t get her home if he couldn’t keep her alive.

Never mind how little he wanted to think about getting her home.

He turned to sweep his garrison with a look he hoped came close to revealing his fury. He suspected part of that fury had less to do with the mutiny afoot than it had to do with the cracks the thought of Pippa leaving were causing to appear in his very hard heart, but so be it. If his pain fed the fire of his wrath, so much the better.

“Which one of you started this?” he snarled.

The men only looked back at him belligerently.

“You live an interesting life,” Petter murmured from where he stood nearby. “A pitched battle in your great hall?”

“My father would be appalled,” Montgomery said shortly, and that was the truth.

His sire, however, would have done just what he was about to do without hesitation, so he didn’t spare any regrets for what he was certain would be unpleasant ends to miserable lives.

“Lay down your swords and honor your fealty oaths,” he said, through gritted teeth, “or draw your last breaths. You will not leave the hall without having made one of those choices.”

A handful of lads lowered their swords, but they were heartily jeered into renewed compliance by their less intelligent fellows. Montgomery cursed under his breath. The choice was clear: he had to have men belonging to the keep who were willing to guard him and those he loved. Anything less was simply unacceptable.

Death it would be, then.

He engaged the first man who stepped forward, then slew him without hesitation. That seemed to change a few minds, but not nearly as many as he would have liked. He drew a knife from one of his boots and fought with both blades, preferring to inflict damage where possible instead of death. Unfortunately, the lads he encountered seemed to have an especial determination to do him in. Perhaps they had been promised something particular by Gunnild if he was removed as lord of the keep. Why they hadn’t bothered to think that through far enough to realize that his father would only send another of his vassals—as well as a very large contingent of angry guardsmen to repay them for their disloyalty—Montgomery didn’t know. He began to wonder if he might do well to trade those knights to Gunnild’s eldest for a few of
his
most disloyal lads who might find a change of masters to their liking

He watched occasionally out of the corner of his eye to see how his men were faring. They needed none of his support, which didn’t surprise him. Ranulf had, as he boasted as often as possible, squired with Jackson of Raventhorpe, who was no poor swordsman himself, and he’d been hell-bent on proving his worth. Montgomery had made him captain of his own guard three years earlier, sure in not only his skill but his loyalty. Even Phillip was holding his own quite well, needing only a thrust or two from Fitzpiers to keep him from being skewered. At least Pippa was . . . safe . . .

His solar door was open.

He staggered, then caught himself heavily before he tripped over a corpse at his feet. He shoved away the man trying to engage him from the other side of the body, then strode across the great hall. Gunnild appeared suddenly in his way, a knife bare in her hand. He stopped and looked at her in disbelief.

“Surely you jest, lady.”

Apparently not. She threw herself at him, but she was no match for him. Indeed, Phillip could have fought her and been forced to stifle his yawns. Montgomery rid her of her knife as gently as possible, then tossed it to Phillip before he looked at the former lady of the keep.

“I would like to believe you had nothing to do with this uprising,” he said gravely.

“Would I admit it if I had?” she said, drawing herself up and looking at him haughtily. “And if I had, I would be justified in protecting
my
home from being overrun by usurpers!”

Montgomery would have taken the time to explain to her again just how it was that property was inherited in present-day England but since he knew he would only be wasting his breath, he forbore.

That and he had other business to see to at the moment. He ran into his solar to find Ada and Boydin there, hurling insults at Pippa. At least only words were being used, though Boydin had his sword drawn and looked as if he fully planned to use it for its intended purpose.

Montgomery looked Ada over for weapons, then pushed her out of the way and stepped in front of Pippa. He turned to face Boydin.

“Troubling my guests again, are you?” he said shortly.

“Killing my father’s men, are you?” Boydin sneered.

“They are
my
men now,” Montgomery said, “and when their honor does not extend to keeping their oaths, they won’t be that any longer. And don’t feign indignation, cousin. You would do the same in my place, did you find yourself master of Artane with men still loyal to my father.”

“I wouldn’t presume to take a keep that isn’t mine,” Boydin snapped. “And I’ll fight to the death to keep you from taking this one.”

Montgomery cursed himself silently. He had handled the entire thing badly. He had assumed Denys’s children would be opposed to him, but he hadn’t supposed they would prefer losing their own lives to going off, accompanied by a good deal of gold, and starting over again somewhere else. Somewhere, perhaps, where the keep wasn’t sporting holes in critical bits of itself.

He paused. Nay, he wasn’t being completely truthful with himself. He had considered just how terrible the situation might become; he had simply dismissed thoughts of it as a lack of faith in his own abilities to influence the outcome. There were times, even as he stood in his own great hall with a woman he thought he might love but knew he couldn’t have standing behind him, that he couldn’t help but wonder if his father had made a terrible mistake. John would have been more suited—

“Montgomery!”

He leapt aside, jerking Pippa out of the way as Boydin thrust with his sword. There was no proper space inside the solar to fight, but he made do because he had no choice. Ada was the unaccounted for element in a mixture he had little liking for. He fought with his back to Pippa, which he supposed was a good way to protect her, but it left him unable to watch her. He would have happily backed Boydin out of the chamber, but that would have left him guarding Pippa in the great hall, which didn’t seem a particularly prudent thing to do. He was also having to make more of an effort to keep Boydin at bay than he had before. Perhaps his cousin was repaying him for the endings of any number of their earlier encounters.

Pippa screamed suddenly, then turned and fled from the solar. Montgomery saw Ada follow her with a knife in her hand. He leapt forward only to find Boydin in his way. He fought his cousin furiously, but Boydin had discovered yet another measure of courage. Montgomery knew he should have just run the bloody whoreson through, but something stopped him—his own foolish notion of honor, he supposed—so he feinted to the left, then caught his cousin in the face with his elbow and sent him sprawling. He bolted out the door, more unnerved than he’d ever been in any battle he’d ever fought. If anything happened to Pippa—

The great hall was still in an uproar. Montgomery made certain Phillip was still breathing, then looked frantically about him for Pippa. He saw the last of something escaping out the front door, though he supposed that could have been anyone. He knew he had three choices for a search: up the stairs, to the kitchens, or through the courtyard and out the gate. To judge amiss would be to sentence Pippa to things she couldn’t possibly fight herself. Ada was, from what Montgomery had seen, ruthless and completely without honor. The saints only knew what other dangers Pippa would find along her way.

It was as he’d thought before: thirteenth-century England wasn’t the place for her.

That realistic but unpleasant thought only added to his anger. He chose the door to the hall, prayed he had chosen well, then ran across a floor that was slippery with more than just leavings from supper. He leapt down the stairs and bolted through the muck that was less than before but still too much. He saw a lad up on the roof who looked as if he might be tempted to lower the innermost portcullis. Montgomery pointed his sword at him.

“Do and breathe not another moment.”

The man held up his hands in surrender and Montgomery continued on his way, frantic at the thought of what could be happening to Pippa. He wondered how any of his brothers bore that sort of feeling about their wives.

At least they all had loyal garrisons to protect those wives, which he supposed helped a great deal.

He realized he was being trailed only because Boydin began to curse him. Montgomery ignored him. He could see Pippa and Ada fighting at the end of the bridge.

He could also see a shimmer in the air.

Pippa was holding on to Ada by the wrists, keeping her by sheer strength alone from plunging a knife into her breast. Pippa finally kicked Ada in the belly, sending her falling back with a gasp. Unfortunately, the motion overbalanced her, and she started to fall backward into the cesspit.

Montgomery never heard a splash.

He stood there, rooted to the spot, looking at the place where she had stood not a moment before.

And then he felt a blinding pain in his head the moment before his world went dark.

P
ippa
resurfaced in Montgomery’s cesspit, fully prepared to spit disgusting things out of her mouth again for the third time.