The Legend (30 page)

She glanced up to her husband.
"Hopefully, he will keep me properly entertained and I shall never tire of
him."

Simon snorted a chuckle, properly
contrite when Alec cast him a menacing glare. He continued to watch as Alec
escorted his wife through the sea of men and wenches, wondering how Alec had
been fortunate enough to wed such a beautiful woman. Not that he did not
deserve it, of course; 'twas only right, considering Alec was the greatest
knight in the realm. At least, he had been at one time.

Simon's finest room was not much
to the eye, but it was clean and comfortable and Peyton was sorely feeling her
exhaustion as Alec set the satchels to the floor and tossed their cloaks over a
chair. She immediately tossed back the bedrug and threw herself on the
mattress, clothing and all. Alec grinned as she jerked the cover over her head.

"You are not even going to
undress?" he mused. "My, my, you must be fatigued."

She sighed heavily, with
contentment. "Do not be long. I shall expect you to join me shortly."

"Aye, General."

"And tell a serving wench
that we will expect a morning meal at sunrise."

"Aye, General. Anything
else?"

She grunted and he chuckled
softly, moving for the door. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, my
Legend."

In faith, he was exhausted as
well, but he was also eager to finish his conversation with Simon. The man had
been invaluable support during the long months in the Holy Land and Alec
considered him a good friend. Futhermore, were he to retire with Peyton, he was
positive he would not be able to contain himself and he had promised that she
would be allowed time to recover. He did not want to break his promise; Christ,
he might stay downstairs all night in that case.

Peyton heard him leave, nearly
asleep. The bed was comfortable to a fault and as she drifted off, she suddenly
remembered that she had neglected to ask him what time they were to leave.
After all, she wanted to rise and bathe in plenty of time to return to
Blackstone and she wanted to make sure there was hot water available for her
toilette.

She rolled onto her back,
debating whether or not she should go downstairs and ask him, but she did not
want to leave the comfort of the bed. It was warm and wonderful and her eyes
closed again as she pondered her predicament. But she forced her eyes open,
determined to seek her answer so she could sleep with confidence. And besides;
she had to use the privy terribly and she did not see a chamber pot in the room.
With a grunt, she heaved herself from the bed.

Somehow, the common room was
smokier and louder than she remembered. She immediately spied Alec at the table
near the hearth with Simon, a large pitcher of ale between them. Two serving
wenches hanging all over Simon and Peyton thought it fortunate that the women
were staying away from Alec lest she be so inclined to tear their hair out by
the roots.

It was amazing how protective she
was of him already, but not so amazing considering the soul-baring that had
occurred between them. She felt a distinct need to protect him from those who
would be a physical threat or a deliberate temptation.

She descended the stairs and
began to weave her way towards her husband. His back was to her and she was
focused only on his blond head, smiling weakly at Simon when he caught sight of
her. But her forward momentum was halted as a mailed arm reached out and
grabbed her, and Peyton suddenly found herself sitting in an armored lap.

"Look what I have
caught!" the knight crowed happily. "The most beautiful wench in Ely!
Where have you been hiding yourself, lass?"

Peyton balled her fist and struck
the knight squarely in the face, releasing his hold. As she struggled from his
lap, a giant hand suddenly reached down and pulled her free. Startled, she
looked up to see that Simon had hold of her protectively as Alec plowed into
the unfortunate knight.

Peyton watched with amazement as
Alec finished the man in two powerful blows of his massive fist; one to the
face, and another to the side of the head. In the next second, the unconscious
knight lay in a heap upon the floor.

Instantly, his companions were on
their feet, four against one, and Peyton gasped as she tried to pull free of
Simon's grasp.

"No!" she cried,
yanking free and planting herself in the deadly position in front of her
husband as if to act as his shield. She assumed the knights would think twice
before driving their swords into the guts of a young woman. "No fighting! He
is unarmed!"

"He should have thought of
that before he injured Graf!" one man snarled. "Prepare to meet thy
God, giant."

Alec tried to remove her from the
line of fire, but Peyton refused to budge. "You will not touch him! Had
your companion not been stupid enough to grab another man's wife, he would not
have been injured. Now, sit and I shall pay for your food and drink; lodgings,
too."

The knights looked to one
another, pondering her words, but they had not sheathed their swords and Peyton
refused to move from her defensive position.

"Does your wife always fight
your battles for you, giant?" a second knight sneered.

"Be glad that she has,"
Alec's voice was like thunder. "She has spared your life this night."

The four knights laughed heartily
and Peyton began to worry; if Alec continued to provoke them, surely she could
not prevent the coming battle. She cast her husband a menacing glare, but he
ignored her. He was watching the four knights as a cat watches a mouse.

"You talk bravely for a man
who does not bear a sword," the second knight said again. "You do not
even wear armor."

"I do not need armor or a
sword to prove my manhood," Alec replied smoothly. "Now accept my
wife's offer for restitution and sit down or commence with your battle. I shall
not stand here all night."

Peyton let out a sigh of
frustration. Before she could control herself, she turned to her husband.
"I am trying to save your hide, Alec. Would you please stop antagonizing
them?"

He actually smiled at her. "I
am not antagonizing them, love. I am simply trying to help them decide what
course of action to take."

Infuriated, Peyton returned her
attention to the knights. "Sheath those swords 'else I shall shove them
down your throat. There will be no battle here tonight."

"Lady," the first
knight said slowly. "Although you are most delicious to observe, I grow
weary of your unruly tongue. Take a seat and let the men work out their
differences."

Alec side-stepped Peyton, drawing
the knights attention away from his wife. Before Peyton could follow him, Simon
had firm hold of her and clapped a hand over her mouth when she tried to
protest.

"You take your life in your
hands speaking to my wife in such a manner, little man," Alec said
quietly. "Apparently you learned little from your colleague's
mistake."

Four swords glistened in the weak
light and Peyton's eyes widened fearfully; she knew precisely where the
confrontation was leading and she was terrified. Simon released her from his
grip and wandered away, leaving her standing alone as the room full of patrons
quickly vacated; there was not a person in the stuffy hall who did not sense
the coming battle.

A real fear gripped her; she had
visions of Alec's guts coating the stone floor and in the same instant,
horrible flashbacks of James' gored body slammed into her mind. She whimpered
softly, hands to her mouth; it had nearly killed her to watch James die in her
arms and she was positive that if Alec were to die in her presence, she would
never recover. She would not want to live.

"Alec...," she
whispered desperately, tears beginning to well within her great sapphire eyes.
"Oh, God, no...."

He heard her, but he was focused
on the four men in front of him. His uncanny sixth sense told him they were
preparing to strike, and he braced himself as he drew their attention away from
Peyton. He wanted her out of the range of the broadswords.

"Come now, lovers,"
Alec said provocatively. "You were so brave. Has your courage shriveled
like your manhood?"

"Bastard," one knight
spat, and suddenly the air was filled with the whoosh of arcing broadswords.
Peyton screamed and jumped back, nearly tripping over a table, but her eyes
never left her husband. She was positive that she was about to witness his
demise.

The two knights closest to Alec
brought their swords down in unison; Alec lashed out a huge booted leg and
caught the first knight in the wrist hard enough to dislodge his heavy sword.
Before the blade clattered to the floor, he brought up his hand and with an
amazingly deft maneuver managed to disarm the second knight. Another broadsword
went sailing.

Before the two attackers had time
to react, Alec drove his fist into the second knight's face, immediately
turning to drive his thick elbow into the face of the first. Like two weakling
knaves, the men went down in a heavy crash of armor just as the third and
fourth knights upended the table in their haste to reach Alec.

Peyton barely had time to
comprehend the happening of the events. She stood, terrified and amazed, as
Alec effectively disarmed the third knight and then used him as a shield
against his comrade, who mistakenly gored him. As the fourth knight struggled
to remove his broadsword from his companion's belly, Alec balled his massive
fist and smashed the man's jaw into fragments. Writhing in pain, the last foe
fell to the floor as blood erupted from his shattered mouth.

Simon came flying back into the
room, his heavy sword arcing high in Alec's defense. But he came to a skidding
halt when he viewed the carnage before him; five injured knights littered his
floor and he looked to Alec with disappointment.

"You did not even wait for
me?" he asked, dejected. "How could you do that to me, Alec? It has
been ages since we last fought together."

Alec turned to his friend, not so
much as a bead of sweat on his brow. "I tried to save one for you, but
alas, I could not control myself. So sorry, old man."           

Peyton stood a few feet away, her
hands over her mouth in shock. Initial shock fading, relief flooded her body
and she began to tremble violently.  She was dazed, angered, panicked;
everything she could possibly feel. All she could imagine was Alec's gored body
lying on the floor, lifeless and pale.

Bile rose in her throat and she
knew she was about to become ill; in a valiant effort to spare her dignity, she
attempted to make way to the privy. Two steps into her retreat, however, she
realized her effort would be in vain; her weakened legs gave way and she
stumbled to her knees, vomiting her dinner all over Simon's dingy stone floor.

Alec was next to her instantly,
pulling her hair away from her face and clasping her body firmly. She wretched
and wretched until there was nothing left, and still she wretched. She fought
to catch her breath as her vision dimmed momentarily.

"Easy, sweetheart,
easy," he whispered softly. "You are overwrought. Let me help you...."

"No!" she rasped,
twisting away from him.

His eyes wide were with concern.
She waved him off, attempting to retain her last scrap of decorum as she
hastily mounted the stairs.  He bound up the steps after her, leaving the
clean-up to a still-disappointed Simon and his stunned employees.

Peyton stumbled into their room,
bolting aimlessly to the opposite side of the chamber as Alec stormed after
her. He reached for her once again, but she lurched out of his range.

"Nay!" she gasped,
bumping into the wall. "Do not touch me!"

He was truly concerned for her.
"You are exhausted, sweetheart. Come lie down."

She shook her head vigorously,
tears springing into her sapphire eyes. "How could you do that to me,
Alec? How could you?"

He stopped trying to pursue her
and paused, a puzzled look on his features. "Do what, love? I was merely
protecting you from a band of ruffians."

Tears spilled and a great,
anguished choke bubbled up. "Did you really think I wanted to see you
fight those men? Why do you think I was trying so desperately to calm them with
reason? I did not want you to fight them!"

His brow furrowed slightly; he
simply did not understand her trouble. "But.... I am unharmed. They could
not have killed me."

She began to sob; deep, angry,
frightened sobs. "Do you think I wanted to see you gored like James, right
before my eyes? How dare you fight in my presence when you know.... you know
that...."

She trailed off, overcome with
wracking sobs. His heart broke as he understood her terror and he cursed
himself silently; of course it never occurred to him that a skirmish might
upset her because she had seen her betrothed gored before her eyes and had been
unable to prevent the event.

Indeed, she had made a strong
attempt to calm the situation in the common room with reason and pacification.
Although she'd had no control over the situation that had claimed Deveraux, she
had grappled for command over a situation that could have just as easily
claimed Alec. She simply couldn't stand by and as her worst nightmare was
replayed before her disbelieving mind, and in his confidence he had worked
against her.