Ciaran stood too. “I will not leave until I have an agreement,” he said. “Let me speak with Chester.”
“Nay,” Desdra said. “Get out. Go back home and take your punishment from this man, whoever he is. You deserve it.”
Ciaran’s patience snapped. He was on her in a flash, grabbing her by the arm again and squeezing. “Listen to me,” he hissed. “You will do as I say. Either give me your money or fetch Chester. Mayhap he thinks you are worth something and will give me what I want. You can stay here and work off the debt. You can rot for all I care. But you will do as I say.”
Desdra’s features were tight with anger. “Let mego.”
“Not until you do as I say.”
Enraged, she tried to yank her arm out of his grasp. “Let me go or I’ll scream!”
Ciaran’s other hand shot out and he grabbed her around the neck. “I’ll snap your throat before help can arrive.”
Desdra went into panic mode. Lashing out a foot, she caught him in the groin, causing him to lose his hold. But she pulled away from him so hard that she ended up falling back over the chair. Ciaran charged at her but she pealed off a scream, enough so that Zeus appeared in the doorway. When he saw Ciaran standing over her and Desdra on the ground, he launched himself into the chamber and grabbed Ciaran before the man could run off. He had him by the back of the neck, shoving him out of the chamber as Desdra picked herself up. She could hear her father shouting and cursing all the way down the stairs.
Rubbing her neck, she rushed over to the window in time to see Zeus literally throwing her father out of the entry door. Ciaran sprawled on the dirt, furious at his treatment, demanding to see Chester, but Zeus and two other Guardians were there, unmoving sentinels as he tried to get back in and impervious to his demands. Ciaran tried to push past them, several times, and he ended up being knocked back on his arse.
The activity got the attention of the knights by the river. They were only across the road and it wasn’t difficult to hear Ciaran shouting his demands. They headed in the direction of the commotion, just in time to see Zeus toss Ciaran on hisarse again. It was the fourth time. As the seven of them, Hugh included, began to head toward the brawl, Ciaran picked himself up one last time and saw the incoming knights. Thinking they were reinforcements coming in to assist The Guardians, he had to fight back his indignation in lieu of self-preservation. He brushed himself off and quickly headed down the road toward the east, in the direction of the livery where he’d left his horse. He was practically running, knowing he couldn’t survive an attack by ten big men. Even he wasn’t that stupid.
But he was wounded.
Pride only, but wounded just the same.
And he would have his revenge.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Lady Anosia?”
Anosia looked up from the harp she had been fussing with only to see Orion standing in the doorway. She was in a smaller chamber off the feasting hall, a demilune-shaped room with windows that faced the river and the road, one that was smaller and more intimate for things like conversation or games or even music. Anosia did much of her entertaining in this chamber, and even now, she was trying to tune her small harp so she could practice a new song that she’d purchased from a merchant in town, but Orion’s appearance had her thinking she might have an audience for her practice.
Truthfully, she wasn’t surprised. The man had stuck to her like flies on honey since nearly the moment he arrived. He was young, perhaps ten years younger than she was, but very handsome and well mannered. She didn’t want to encourage him, but it was nice to have someone good-looking and articulate around. So often that was not the case. He’d paid for the full day with her today, and he was a little early, but it seemed that their time was about to start.
Truthfully, she didn’t mind.
“Sir Orion,” she said, smiling at the debonair knight. “Good morn to you.”
“And to you,” he said. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” she said, indicating a chair nearby. “Please sit. I was just tuning my harp, but the cold morning is hard on the strings. They do not want to tune.”
“Oh?” he said, taking a seat. “I heard you plucking the strings and it does not sound bad to me, but then again, I know nothing of music, so do not trust my opinion.”
Anosia laughed softly. “Thank you for the warning.”
“Are you going to sing something?”
She nodded, indicating a piece of vellum that was affixed to a piece of wood. “There is a merchant in town who has musical instruments and sometimes he has music,” she said. “He has just returned from Paris and said a man who played the citole sold him this song, so let me see if I can play it.”
Orion partially came out of his seat to see what she was indicating. It looked like a bunch of stroke marks with words beneath them. “And that is music?”
“It is, for the most part.”
“You can read it?”
She nodded. “A little,” she said. “I was taught to read it as a child where I fostered because the lady of the house was very fond of music and wanted all of her wards to learn how to sing and play a harp.”
He sat back in his chair, watching her fumble with the strings. “My training was somewhat different.”
