Chapter 7 #2
“You cannot win, Father,” William said, his chest heaving. “Release her.”
“Choose,” Hubert returned. “The wench or the keep.”
William wouldn’t have been more surprised if his father had reached out and clouted him on the nose. “But—”
“Choose!” his father shouted. “The wench or the keep! I’ll not be left with naught for all my trouble!”
William considered the odds of slaying his father before his sire slew Julianna, but knew almost immediately that such a thing was beyond possibility.
He’d already made good use of his own knife by burying it to the hilt in a fallen knight’s eye.
He could retrieve his sword and heave it at his sire, true, but ’twould be just his luck that his father would use Julianna as a shield.
Julianna shifted with her stun gun in her hand, and William stepped forward instinctively.
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head.
“Do not,” his sire commanded, pressing the blade more firmly against her neck. A small trickle of red crept down her throat. Julianna lowered her arm, closed her eyes, and swallowed convulsively.
William closed his eyes briefly and saw in his mind the pitiful pile of stones behind him.
It was his birthright, a legacy he could pass down to his children, a final gesture of love from a man he had loved with all his heart.
It meant security, steadiness, a place of his own—all the things he had never had the whole of his adult life.
Then he opened his eyes and looked at the woman held captive in his father’s foul embrace. She had opened her eyes and was now looking at him with absolutely no expression on her face. That alone told him that she was trying very hard not to force him into a decision.
Then she hiccuped.
It came close to slitting her throat for her.
“Daft wench,” his father muttered, shifting the blade in his hand.
William smiled in spite of himself and, as he did, he realized the truth of the matter. His home was before him. In truth, if he’d wanted a pile of stones of his own, wouldn’t he have found one by now? Apparently he was destined to go about without ties.
Save for the one he intended to make with the woman standing before him now hiccuping madly.
Nay, there had been little need for thought. If the choice was between Julianna or the crumbling wreck behind him, there was no choice to be made.
“Take it,” William said, jerking his head toward the hall. “Take your blade from my lady’s neck and seek out your comforts within. But remove your steel carefully, Father. You’d not like your death otherwise.”
Hubert looked at him narrowly. “Your word that the hall’tis mine?”
“Aye,” William said simply.
“Vow it.”
“Oh, by the saints,” William said in disgust. “Take the bloody pile of stones. I’ll not trouble you further for it. Give it to your other son. If you can find him to foist it upon after you’ve had done with it.”
“Rolfe is a fine—”
“Drunkard and a fool,” William finished for him. “Aye, his life is a fitting legacy for your own. I’m certain he’ll be quite happy to see what you have for him.”
“I never would have given it to you,” Hubert snarled.
William shrugged. His elder brother was no doubt lying in some deserted corner of a village, reeking of wine and whatever else he had found to imbibe.
The only thing that would have surprised William would have been to find his brother alive and well.
Nay, Hubert would not find him to gift him anything.
“Vow it,” Hubert repeated stubbornly. “Vow you’ll leave me in peace and never return.”
William inclined his head. “I vow that I’ll leave you in peace and never return. Now, release my lady.”
Hubert looked to be considering something foul. William looked at his father dispassionately and shook his head.
“I wouldn’t.”
His father shifted—the first sign of nervousness William had seen in him.
“Think you I can kill with my sword alone?” William asked pleasantly. “I assure you, Father, that my time spent in the company of honorless mercenaries was not wasted. I can call to mind half a dozen ways to end your life—very painfully, I might add—without putting my hand to my sword.”
“You gave me your word you’d leave me be,” Hubert said, but there was a quaver in his voice.
“Aye, if my lady comes into my arms unharmed,” William said calmly, as if he had an indefinite amount of time to discuss the matter—and as if his heart wasn’t beating in his throat with the force of a dozen heavy fists.
By the saints, all it would take was the slightest pressure and her throat would be cut.
Her bloody hiccups were nigh onto seeing to that by themselves.
Her lifeblood would spill from her and there wouldn’t be a revenge vile enough to remedy that.
Hubert considered. Then he lifted his knife away. Before William could move, he shoved Julianna toward William. She stumbled and fell facedown in the dirt at William’s feet.
But at least she was free. William pulled her up and into his arms. He couldn’t look at her. He’d just traded his inheritance for her and he damn well didn’t want to see revulsion on her face. He looked at Peter.
“There’s another horse inside the gates. Fetch it.”
“But—” Hubert protested.
“Payment for your unchivalrous treatment of your future daughter,” William said pointedly. “Unless you’d care to haggle more?”
“You said you’d leave me be!”
“I will. And I’ll also take your best nag before I leave. Consider yourself fortunate. I could have taken much more.”
“Honorless whoreson,” Hubert spat.
That stung, but William let it pass. “My vow was to leave you be. I daresay you wouldn’t be qualified to judge how I honor that.”
Peter returned with a horse that William suspected wouldn’t last the se’nnight, but at least it would carry the priest. William threw Peter up onto the packhorse, tossed the priest onto the feeble nag, then led his trembling lady over to his own mount and helped her up into the saddle.
He looked once more at the hall that was no longer his, then at his sire.
And then he looked up at the woman with the riotous hair and striking blue eyes and found himself smiling in spite of his attempts to stifle it.
“Well?” he asked.
“Hell of a trade,” she said hoarsely.
William laughed as he swung up behind her. He looked at his sire and gestured to the keep.
“ ’Tis yours, Father. May you live long to enjoy it.”
Hubert glared at him, but tromped inside the gates just the same.
His five remaining guardsmen followed him none-too-eagerly.
Well, the man he’d left senseless on the wall would wake up soon enough, as well as the drunkard in the passageway, and perhaps they could cheer their fellows.
William felt a weight come off his shoulders and he whistled cheerfully as he turned his horse south.
Perhaps binding himself to a hall was truly not for him.
“Where are we going, my lord?” Peter asked.
“I’ve no idea,” William said pleasantly.
He had several destinations in mind, but none of them would be reached that day, so what was the point in worrying about it? They would ride for a while, then he would give thought to where he might take his lady.
“I’m—hic—sorry,” she whispered.
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “Do not be. ’Twas a fair trade.”
She took several deep breaths and, miracle of miracles, her breathing returned to normal. She relaxed in his arms.
“I probably should have stayed at the chapel,” she offered.
“Aye, well, perhaps that is true.”
“I thought you might need some help.”
He suspected that now was not the time to point out that he was the trained warrior, not she.
She was trembling in his arms, and he supposed that she either felt badly for his loss or realized how close she had come to death.
He could scarce chide her for her act, especially when it had been conceived as a means to aid him.
“ ’Twas a generous gesture,” he said.
“I never meant for you to lose your keep.”
“I gained my lady in its place.” He paused. “Where is your sacred relic sack?”
“Strapped to your horse.”
“Well, see?” he said. “You’ve your dowry to offer me, as well as your fetching self. What else could I want?”
She twisted to look up at him. “You want me?”
He smiled dryly. “I just traded my birthright for you. What does that tell you?”
“Was that a proposal of marriage?”
He laughed softly. “I’ll give you a proper one when I’ve decided where we’ll go.”
“Oh,” she said, “I kind of liked being haggled over with your father’s knife at my throat. Really. What more could a girl want when it comes to romance?”
He wrapped his arms around her and held on, amazed at how comforting it was to do the like. He’d made the right choice. What was a pile of stones when compared to a woman whom he thought might just learn to love him in time?
He found himself turning toward the east and realized he was heading toward Artane. It was home enough for the present. He could wed her there properly, then perhaps they would decide what to do.
He smiled, because he simply couldn’t help himself.