One Enchanted Evening

by Lynn Kurland

  His personal discomfort had been good for the swordplay of his men, however, given that he’d left Pippa sleeping peacefully under Phillip’s watchful care at dawn so he could retreat to the lists and take out his frustrations on his garrison. That had taken up the bulk of the morning quite nicely, but not done much for his heart. He supposed the only thing that would do that would be watching Pippa go back through her gate and seeing it close behind her.

  Something he didn’t particularly care to think about, actually.

  He cursed again as he walked across the bridge and into his courtyard, hoping for mud and swords and other things he didn’t have an unhealthy curiosity about. Petter and his lads were making steady progress on the worst spots in the walls and a few of the garrison lads had been willing to work on the roof of the garrison hall. With any luck, he would have most of his basic defenses in place before he had snow to deal with along with marauding ruffians. He supposed mucking out his courtyard would have to wait until spring. That and ridding his great hall of its tendency to be so smokey he couldn’t breathe.

  At the moment, though, even smoking fires sounded better than the chill that had suddenly descended outside. He walked into the great hall to find something warm to drink, then suddenly wished he hadn’t.

  Cinderella was sitting in a chair next to the fire, alternately coughing from the smoke and shouting for Pippa to come serve her something to eat. Montgomery came to a lurching halt one step too late. He’d been spotted.

  Cinderella stood up and fixed him with a look that rooted him to the spot. He wanted to run, but he found he couldn’t. He had begun to suspect that Cinderella was a witch, not just a refugee from the Future. When he looked at her, he felt just a little bewildered. Her crown was listing so far to the right that it was almost over her ear and her gown had started to look a little bedraggled, but somehow that didn’t detract at all from her perfection.

  “Well, good afternoon,” she purred. “Are you prepared to perform in my beauty pageant?”

  “Ah,” he began, suppressing the urge to flee. He was a bloody bespurred knight with scores of battles, skirmishes, and tourneys behind him. Surely facing a simple woman wasn’t beyond his skill.

  It wasn’t Cinderella that terrified him, truth be told, it was what she was suggesting. She had begun to mix into her French the same English Jennifer did, but even with all the words he knew, he had no idea what a beauty pageant entailed. He suspected that demonstrating his talents, something Cinderella had announced the night before he would be doing, would unfortunately include something performed on the lute. As for the rest, he hoped whatever questions she wanted him to answer in the Final Five would be painless.

  The saints preserve him, he didn’t think he could endure much more of the woman.

  Cinderella raised her wand to tap him, but before he could wince at what he knew from experience was not a pleasant feeling, a hand caught it on the way toward him.

  “Sit, my queen,” Pippa said, taking Cinderella by the arm and tugging. “Your prince must go on his way to prepare himself for the entertainments he will provide.”

  Cinderella’s perfect brow creased. “For whom?”

  “Why for you, my queen,” Pippa said. “Of course.” Montgomery watched her settle her sister, then he frowned thoughtfully. Why Pippa continued to humor her sister, he couldn’t have said. Perhaps she feared Cinderella would say something she shouldn’t, something that would draw even more attention to herself than she had already. His household thought her nothing more than a daft noblewoman from the continent—something he had gone out of his way to noise about—but even they were growing weary of her screeching. He wasn’t sure he could listen to it much longer.

  He also couldn’t watch much longer as Pippa tried to keep Cinderella in check, do all the tasks she’d taken upon herself in his hall, and no doubt spend the rest of her time worrying about how she was going to return home. Even if he hadn’t been entertaining feelings for her that were completely out of the question, he would have been concerned simply because she was a lovely, responsible woman bearing a burden that he could see was wearing on her. He supposed he could simply tell her what he knew and hope she would believe him, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that yet. There was no sin in wishing that she might remain in his hall another pair of days, surely.

  Was there?

  He watched her distract Cinderella with a bowl of carrots, smile briefly at him, then start off toward the kitchens. He would have counted himself well rescued and hurried off to do more of his manly labors in the lists, but he caught sight of something that he didn’t particularly care for.

  Boydin and Martin slinking off along behind Pippa.

  He glanced at Cinderella, but she seemed perfectly happy where she was, no doubt examining each carrot for flaws. That left him free to go see to Pippa, who most certainly wouldn’t see danger where it might be lurking.

  He stopped at the entrance to the kitchens and looked at Pippa who was standing next to the fire, leaning over to stir something Joan had hanging there. She tasted, then straightened with a spoon in her hands.

  Boydin and Martin were easing toward her. Montgomery supposed he should have gone close enough to listen to what they were saying, but he didn’t need to. He could see by the way they stood that they were not intending anything good. They began to crowd Pippa at the fire, leaving her no choice but to back up until she had no more room to do so.

  He stepped up behind his cousins and cleared his throat. Boydin turned slowly, his hands on his sword. Martin was apparently assuming that a scowl alone was enough to intimidate.

  “I think the gel needs room to breathe,” Montgomery said calmly.

  “And I think she’d like me a bit closer,” Boydin said, with an unmistakable look of challenge in his eye.

  Montgomery looked at Martin. “And what do you say?”

  “I say ’tisn’t your place to tell me what to do,” Martin said, all trace of any friendliness gone from his features. “The whelp of Rhys de Piaget you might be, but you’ve no authority here.”

  Montgomery lifted one eyebrow. “I wonder which of you has the sword skill to accompany your very fierce words? I suspect neither.”

  One thing he could say about his cousins: they weren’t choosey about the places they fought. He saw the thought to use Pippa as a shield cross Boydin’s face, so he immediately plunged his second eldest Sedgwick cousin into oblivion by means of a fist under his jaw. He scarce had time to draw his sword before Martin’s blade came down toward his head.

  He never would have called it a fair fight. Martin had had the double misfortunes of being born at Sedgwick and having Denys of Sedgwick as his father. Denys had unfortunately possessed neither sword skill nor the talent of convincing another man to take his son on as squire. Martin was strong, Montgomery would give him that, but he was not skilled. Within a handful of strokes, Martin was swinging so wildly, Montgomery began to fear for what was left of his kitchen. He looked behind Martin at Pippa and Joan.

  “Move,” he suggested.

  They moved. He pushed Martin back out the door and into the courtyard. Perhaps it wouldn’t serve him overmuch to thoroughly humiliate his cousin, but he supposed there might not be a better way to instill respect in the fool—and whatever other fools might be watching.

  He was slightly distracted by the sight of Cinderella fluttering into the courtyard and beginning to shriek out curses in English that singed his ears, but he found that less irritating than what he was used to from Robin in French, so he ignored her and concentrated on beating a bit of deference into his cousin.

  Or at least he did until he realized that things on the far side of the courtyard had taken a turn for the worse.

  He glanced Cinderella’s way to find she was now shouting at Pippa, who had apparently come outside to attempt to convince her sister to be quiet. Montgomery shook his head. Pippa endured far more than he ever would have, had he been in her shoes.

 
Such as her sister’s fist in her eye.

  Montgomery dropped his sword in surprise. He almost earned a blade in his gut as a result, which he likely deserved. He dove for his sword, rolled up with it, then swept Martin’s feet out from underneath him as his brother-in-law Jackson had taught him. He reached over, clunked Martin on the head, then watched as his cousin slipped blissfully into senselessness.

  Montgomery resheathed his sword and ran over to where Pippa was backed up against the castle wall, trying to simply shield herself from the attack of a well-wielded wand. Montgomery pulled Cinderella away and started to reach for Pippa only to find himself with his arms full of a purported Faery Queen.

  “My hero,” she breathed.

  Then she tried to kiss him.

  He was so stunned, he almost didn’t move in time. That she missed his mouth didn’t seem to trouble her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and crawled up into his arms that he had no choice but to provide for her use.

  “Let’s discuss what you’ll want to do to win me,” she said loudly.

  “Ah—”

  “Concentrate on me,” she said sharply.

  Montgomery didn’t have a choice given that she had taken his face in her hands that were more like claws. He turned toward the hall, managing to catch a glimpse of Pippa as he did. She was bending down and collecting things from the dirt—no doubt the sparkles that had fallen from Cinderella’s gown and wand. Montgomery winced as Cinderella’s crown poked him in the eye.

  “Me,” she commanded.

  He caught Phillip’s eye. Phillip needed no further instruction, bless him for being his father’s very canny son. He immediately walked over and stood in front of Pippa with his sword drawn. Montgomery would have preferred to be doing the like, but he couldn’t until he had rid himself of his burden—something he would do at his earliest opportunity. He walked back into the hall with Cinderella.

  “Perhaps,” he said carefully, “my lady would like a rest.”

  “Are you resting with me?” she asked, tapping him playfully on the head with her wand.

  By the saints, nay was almost out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He took a deep breath, then attempted a smile. “I wouldn’t think to disturb your rest, my queen,” he said, hoping the term would work as well for him as it did for Pippa. “You must rest, then remain upstairs and think on all the things I must needs do to win you.”

  She sighed gustily. “I’m hungry.”

  “I’ll see to that, Your Majesty.”

  That seemed to satisfy her. He carried her through the hall and up the stairs, then set her back on her feet in front of his door. He avoided another kiss, then bowed and scraped his way back down the passageway.

  “Lock the door,” he called.

  He waited at the top of the steps until he heard the bolt slide home, then he turned and ran bodily into Everard.

  “You know,” Everard said slowly, stroking his cheek with the knife he had drawn, “there are very strange portents surrounding that woman.”

  Montgomery realized suddenly that his own guardsmen were standing behind Everard, far enough in the shadows that they weren’t readily visible. Their expressions were inscrutable. Montgomery might have wondered at another time why his lads seemed to think he needed protection, but not at present. Everard of Chevington looked capable of just about anything at the moment. Montgomery looked at him coolly.

  “I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.”

  “What I’m saying, my self-important friend, is that the wench inside your bedchamber is very strange, something that I suppose shouldn’t come as a surprise given that your entire family has a murky reputat—”

  Everard stopped speaking abruptly, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell to the floor with an ungraceful crash. Sir Ranulf stood directly behind where Everard had fallen. He resheathed his sword.

  “Forgive me, my lord Montgomery,” he said, inclining his head. “I must have tripped on a rough patch in the passageway.” He motioned to his companions. “Help our good lord Everard to the garrison hall where he can be nursed back to consciousness with all due care.”

  Montgomery watched as a senseless Everard of Chevington was picked up and carried off to a much less comfortable place than he was accustomed to. Then again, he didn’t suppose Everard had led a very comfortable life so far, so perhaps he would find his temporary accommodations nothing out of the ordinary. Montgomery turned back to his captain.

  “I wonder why it is you felt the need to silence him so quickly?”

  “Because, my lord,” Ranulf said, “he has a loose tongue and I had heard enough. He has been sojourning about the countryside in the afternoons, chatting up with that loose tongue the local peasantry who are either your missing servants or others with a ready ear for gossip. I thought it best that he cease with those activities.” He shrugged. “If I could somehow help him see the wisdom in that, my honor demanded that I must.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Indeed,” Ranulf agreed. “I’ve no ear for gossip, nor do I believe what I hear noised about by—” He paused, then smiled briefly. “By those with perhaps a grudge held too long. I find nothing murky about your family at all.”

  “Not even Amanda’s husband, Jackson?” Montgomery asked mildly.

  Ranulf didn’t hesitate, which was to his credit. “My lord Raventhorpe plucked me out of a life of thievery and worse,” Ranulf said quietly, “for which I will be eternally grateful to him. When the opportunity presented itself to serve you, my lord, I leapt at it without hesitation. As did Alfred and Roland. No small bit of gossip will fracture the oaths we made to you.”

  Montgomery dragged his hand through his hair, then smiled at his captain. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Shall I guard your guest here so you can be about other things?”

  “Aye,” Montgomery said, “if you would. Until I can sort those other things to my satisfaction.”

  “Willingly, my lord. What shall we do with Lord Everard?”

  Montgomery sighed deeply. “I cannot imprison him for speaking against me, though I can certainly withdraw my hospitality.”

  “You would be more than justified in that.” Ranulf clasped his hands behind his back. “The lads will alert me when he wakes. Shall I then have him put outside the gates?”

  “For all the good it will do us, aye,” Montgomery agreed. “Thank you again, Ranulf. I’ll come relieve you after I’ve seen to Mistress Persephone.”

  “As you will, my lord.”

  Montgomery nodded, then left his captain to his work. He loped down the stairs to the great hall, did them all the favor of rendering Boydin unconscious for the second time that day, then walked out of the great hall and around the corner.

  Phillip was currently examining the eye Pippa had been struck in. Montgomery thanked his squire, then took charge of the investigation himself. It was already red, though the eye itself seemed to have escaped damage.

  “Phillip, lad,” he said quietly, “run fetch me a rag soaked in cold water.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Pippa leaned back against the wall and said nothing as he took her face in his hands again and lifted it up where he could look more closely at her eye.

  “I fear ’twill be blackened by morning,” he said quietly.

  “It’s nothing.”

  He ran his finger gently over the bone above and below her eye. Nothing was broken that he could tell, but she would indeed bear the mark of it. He released her, then turned to lean back against the wall next to her. “Why do you let her treat you thus?”

  She sighed. “No reason that would sound reasonable, my lord.”

  “Montgomery.”

  “My lord—”

  “Nay,” he interrupted. “ ’ Tis just Montgomery.”

  “Your servants don’t call you that.”

  “And you aren’t my servant, are you? And you’re not hers, so do not let her strike you again.” He paused. He wasn’t
in the habit of taking women to task, but he imagined he wouldn’t be above locking Cinderella in a chamber if she couldn’t control her fists. “I don’t like it.”

  She looked up at him, a faint smile on her lips. “Very chivalrous, my lord. And trust me, I’ve thought more than once about punching her back.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “Because I like the moral high ground.”

  He almost laughed. He shook his head, then took the cloth Phillip handed him. He folded it carefully, put it over Pippa’s eye, then took her hand and put it over the cloth.

  “Hold that there and come rest in my solar. You’ll be safe there.”

  “You will be, too.”

  He took her by the arm. “Should I worry about Cinderella coming after me next?”

  “Your cousins, rather. I don’t think you made any friends today, but I appreciate the rescue. Again.”

  He only nodded, then walked with her back to the hall. He made Pippa comfortable in front of his fire before he sent Phillip off for something to eat. He rested his hand on the back of his chair and looked down at her. Her eye was beginning to swell shut, but she made no complaint. He wouldn’t have been nearly so pleasant in her shoes. Then again, perhaps she was simply trying to keep her sister from blurting out dangerous things. That he could understand from his own brushes with men who hadn’t been afeared to call a man a warlock. Who knew what tales the servants had already spread? If Pippa were watched for because of those tales and somehow carried off . . .

  Nay, the very of idea of that was unthinkable. The truth was suddenly very plain to him. He should be far more concerned about keeping Pippa within arm’s length instead of pushing her away.

  There. That sounded reasonable enough.

  Indeed, as he studied her sitting there so grave and lovely in front of his fire, her dark hair curling over her shoulders and her arms wrapped around her knees, he decided that it was nothing short of his chivalric duty to care for her. He could surely do that and continue to look on her as nothing more than a sister. His honor would be satisfied, his fears allayed, and his mother made proud. He imagined she would have liked Pippa very much. A pity they would never meet.