Damien let his gaze linger on her for but an instant—and yet an instant was all it took.
Gareth used the moment of his distraction to slam his forearm hard against Damien’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to step back enough to allow Gareth to effectively disengage from their locked position. Scowling in disgust at himself, Damien scrambled to regroup, forced to seek another angle now, in order to approach and disarm his foe.
It did not take long, but it required more effort than he had intended to expend, and his back and arms had begun to ache by the time he’d managed to send Gareth’s sword spinning from his grip. Then, just because he was irritated, he kept his blade raised to Gareth’s throat, keeping him immobile at the point of that glittering death a few moments longer than he might have otherwise…until he saw some of the men around them begin to shift uneasily, clearly worried that he might renege on his earlier claim to make this naught but an exhibition and instead slice their comrade where he stood.
At last Damien pulled away, and Gareth collapsed to one knee, bent double as he gasped for air, while Damien stalked back toward Ben.
“A bit overzealous there at the end, don’t you think?” Ben waited until Damien had sheathed his blade again and unfastened the sword belt before handing him his shirt.
“He deserved it.”
“Perhaps.” Ben glanced toward the group of men who had clustered around Gareth. “But I’d say you made your point in a way none of them will soon forget.”
“That was my intent.” Damien fastened his shirt and tucked it into his breeches again. “And yet now it is just as important that I give them and Gareth a way to follow me in honor.”
After rebuckling his sword belt, Damien strode back toward the group, taking Gareth’s weapon from the knight who’d retrieved it off the ground. As he approached the man he’d bested, he reached out his hand. “Come, Sir Gareth, and accept my offer of peace. You displayed fine skill and good instincts, and I would be proud to know you serve willingly in my garrison.”
Gareth looked up at Damien, his expression unreadable for a moment. He was still breathing heavily. At last he reached up and allowed Damien to help pull him to his feet. Damien handed him his sword. After sheathing it, Gareth stood still and quiet, staring at the ground before finally glancing over to Damien again. “I thank you, my lord, and I hope you will pardon me for the doubts I harbored—and so rudely offered you this day.”
“I consent on all counts,” Damien said, “and consider it a fair price to have paid for the privilege of having such a fine sword-arm at my beck and call from now on.” The second part was added half in jest, in an effort to put him at ease.
As Damien had hoped, Gareth looked pleased with the compliment, and in a moment he looked past Damien to the other men and Fitzgibbon. “If I am not mistaken, we will all be reconsidering the false judgment we placed upon you, my lord, and will follow you in honor from this time forward.”
In response, a few of the men let go a chorus of “Aye!” and “You have our allegiance, my lord!” which was soon picked up by the rest.
Damien shook hands with Gareth, Fitzgibbon, and several of the men closest, and when the cheers died down, he said, “I am glad to have your backing; however, it might be best if you reserve some of your enthusiasm for the training still ahead of us.”
A few groans, good-natured ones now, echoed from the group, and Damien nodded, smiling. “I know, I know…but we’ve much to accomplish, and the sooner we begin the sooner we will be done as well.”
As the men turned to do as he bid, Damien allowed himself to glance back to the edge of the yard for the first time since the distraction of seeing Alissende, which had cost him in his sparring match with Gareth.
She was gone.
Ben caught his glance as he approached Damien to stand by him again, and he raised his brow, offering a comment that struck Damien as being less innocent than it seemed. “I noticed your wife watching you at the edge of the yard earlier as well. She seemed worried for your safety.”
“So worried that she chose to leave with her cousin before she could speak with me.” Damien leaned over to pick up his shield, slipping his arm into the straps and trying to subdue his ever-turbulent emotions where Alissende was concerned.
Ben shrugged. “It looked to me as if she and Michael were carrying baskets of some kind. Perhaps they were on an errand. Though her hasty departure might well have had more to do with her worry over the possibility of seeing you wounded.”
“More like she was simply dismayed at the contrast between the man she once used to watch battle in tournaments and what she saw before her today.”
Making a clicking noise of chastisement, Ben shook his head. “Methinks you know less about the workings of the female mind than I do, Damien—and I am the one who has taken vows of celibacy.”
Ah, but I took such vows too once upon a time….
The thought swept through Damien with startling virulence, catching him unawares. But he had no chance to say anything out loud, for at that moment he noticed a squire approaching them at a near run from the direction of the main hall. The young man had been trained well; when he reached the limits of the group of men, he stopped, breathing heavily and looking nervous as he waited for Damien’s permission to come further.
“I wonder what this is about?” Damien murmured to Ben, at the same time gesturing the lad to him.
Some of the guard had taken notice as well, several of them turning and watching as the squire strode up to Damien and bowed in deference before he straightened to murmur, “My lord—pardon the interruption, but I come bearing news of approaching knights. A contingent of two dozen or more, fully outfitted for battle, bearing the arms of young Hugh de Valles, fourth Earl of Harwick—and led by Lord Harwick himself.”
Damien felt all his muscles clench for the second time in the past hour.Damn. It was not that he hadn’t expected Alissende’s pursuer to appear in another defiant attempt to make claim to her, regardless of the proxy marriage she’d declared at court; after all, Alissende’s own mother and Father Michael had warned him of the likelihood of Hugh’s continued aggression.
He had just hoped he’d have more time to gain his bearings before Hugh showed himself.
Frowning, he swung his gaze to Ben. “We’d better ready the men for the possibility of a confrontation, then,” he said in a low voice. “I must send word to Alissende and caution her of his approach, then go to the guardhouse and alert those still on duty there. In the meantime, if you will address the matter with the men here, I would—”
“Pardon, milord, but I must tell you that…that is, I think you should know that Lord Harwick—that he is…and that…that the Lady Alissende is—”
