Instead, she winked at him and headed back towards the center of the hall where men were loudly singing because Kevin’s off-key singing was starting to throw her off. The hall was just singing the chorus, the part about giving a taste of her lips, when someone reached out and grabbed her.
“Give me a taste of yer lips, dearie!” a big soldier cried.
He had her around the waist, trying to kiss her as she fought him off. His friends were laughing and cheering him on, and now they, too, were trying to kiss her. The good humor of the song quickly turned to panic for Juliandra as she slugged one man in the face.
The mood of the hall suddenly became tense and uncertain.
Juliandra was fighting for all she was worth, trying to free herself from a man who held her tightly. He tried to kiss heragain and she slapped him, hard, demanding he release her. He simply laughed at her. She wasn’t sure she could ever get away from him.
But then, a strange thing happened.
Juliandra caught sight of Kevin as he loomed behind the soldier, but it was merely a flash of his face. Suddenly, she was being jerked around as Kevin threw his arm across the soldier’s neck, yanking the man out of his chair. The soldier abruptly released her, but it wasn’t because he was fighting with his liege.
It was because Kevin had snapped his neck.
In a flash, the man who had grabbed her was dead.
Juliandra was on the ground, on her arse, as she looked up at Kevin, who stood over the dead man with a remorseless expression. Suddenly, he didn’t look or act so drunk. He seemed very sober. He kicked the man aside as he faced the entire room full of stunned soldiers.
“The next man who lays a hand on her gets the same,” he bellowed in a tone Juliandra had never heard from him before. “Touch her and you die. Consider yourselves warned!”
The soldiers were genuinely shocked. A couple of the dead man’s comrades began to speak up, to possibly condemn Kevin for his hasty action, but Bannon and Cal were there, in the midst of everything, scolding every man at the table, demanding they clear the hall. They did, dragging their dead friend with them.
As Cal made sure that table cleared, Bannon began to pace around the fire pit, explaining the need for discipline that was brutal and harsh. Men who had no discipline were as good as dead.
De Lara’s knights had established the law.
Still raging and struggling for control, Kevin looked at Juliandra, who was still sitting on the ground. Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked.
Juliandra was deeply shocked by what had just happened. “You… you killed him.”
Kevin’s jaw ticked faintly. “Answer me,” he said. “Did he hurt you?”
“Nay,” she fired back, almost angrily. “Why did you kill him?”
He still didn’t reply but, instead, grasped her by the arm. “Retreat for the evening,” he said. “My men evidently cannot keep themselves under control with you cavorting in front of them. Though they understand now what will happen to them if they molest you, it is better not to tempt fate.”
Juliandra couldn’t seem to make her legs work. She watched soldiers drag away the dead man, who had traces of vomit coming out of his mouth. It left a trail on the floor.
Dead…
It occurred to her that she’d never really seen a dead man before. Dead because of her. She didn’t even know what she’d done wrong. She’d only been singing and having a good time, and suddenly, a man was dead because of her.
God, she felt sick.
The world began to dim.
Kevin caught her before she could hit the ground.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The raw materialthat the smithy needed wasn’t readily available in Pool, but the man whose business it was to sell scrap and raw material was expecting a wagonload of it on the morrow, so Gareth ended up spending the night in Pool at a place called The Silver Fish.
The tavern was a combination of an inn and also a place that smoked and sold fish caught in the river that ran behind the inn. Basically, it was a fishmonger’s inn, which Gareth found interesting as he watched the comings and goings of the place from his private room, struggling to stave off the boredom as he waited for the morning when they’d be able to purchase the raw material and head back to Wybren.
Gareth had grown up on the Marches in a castle about twenty miles to the north, so he knew the area better than Kevin did. His father had cemented a strong rule amongst the Welsh even though he was English, and the Welsh respected him. But that relationship had taken a long time. Originally, his father hadcome to the Welsh Marches to kill and conquer. It had been a time in Bretton de Llion’s life when he had been one of the more brutal warlords in England. But that had ended when he’d married Gareth’s mother and he’d spent the past thirty years cultivating a strong relationship with his allies.
