The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,84
with disgust. “I’ve no patience with your constantly bleak outlook on life. Thank the gods Una is nothing like you!”
“You have no notion what you’ve gotten into,” Otho persisted grimly. “Why do you think I’m sticking around? It’s not like you’ve any intention of guarding over her for the rest of your life, is it?” Otho’s lip curled. “I know your type.”
Armand’s fists curled and he took a few calming breaths before replying. “Oh, do you?” he drawled. “It seems you know me better than you do your own flesh and blood. Una was desperate to get away from court. She was no more suited there, than she would be in a convent.”
“And where do you imagine she would be suited then?” Otho flared up jeeringly. “Married to some obscure knight, who can barely hold his own in a fight? I’ve seen farmhands wield a sword with more skill than you, Sir Armand! Maybe here in the South they’ll bestow a knighthood on any fool, but where I’m from, it’s a different story, let me tell you!”
Armand had heard of red mists descending and people losing control before, but never associated such things with himself. He always prided himself on his steady, even temper. More often than not, he was the first to see humor in a situation, and hard to stoke to wrath.
Which is why he really could not really explain, why the next thing he knew, he was driving his fist into Otho’s face while the other lay sprawled out beneath him. It took an almost superhuman effort to stay his arm from landing another blow and he crouched over him, breathing raggedly, as he forced himself to roll away. He lay in the dirt, dragging air into his burning lungs and flexing his numb fingers. How many times had he hit him?
It was one thing for his wife to think him a gullible fool, but quite another for his brother-in-law to insult him like that. Of course, others had tried before in the field. You made mistakes when in a fury and Armand had always used this to his advantage. His had been the ready tongue and the mocking laugh that would provoke his proud enemies into hasty errors. Others never ensnared him with such tactics.
His fellow knights mocked him every time he went crashing out in an early round, and he shrugged it off every time. Such words had never dented his armor before. Why then, had he completely lost control this time?
He glanced at Otho’s bloodied face. He was still breathing at least. He propped himself up on one elbow and eyed the horse trough. He’d have to dunk him in it, he thought resignedly, dragging himself to his feet and grabbing Otho beneath his armpits.
He had just reached the trough and was propping Otho against the edge when he heard approaching footfalls and glanced around. It was Peter come running from the orchard, looking alarmed and out of breath.
“I seen you dragging him from over yonder. Whatever’s happened to Master Otho?” he puffed, coming to a standstill.
“He’s been attacked,” Armand answered coolly. “Here, help me dunk his head in.”
Peter hurried over, his mouth hanging open. “Was it one of them strangers on the prowl, like you was talking about?” he gasped.
“Yes,” answered Armand. “That’s exactly who it was. I shall need to hire more men to keep an eye about the place.”
“And to think I never seen no one,” Peter marveled aloud, as he grasped Otho’s shoulder and they lowered his head into the water.
After a moment, Otho’s limbs started to struggle and they pulled him back out and set him down upon the ground where he lay gasping for breath. “You bastards!” he growled.
“Nay, it weren’t us, Master Otho. It was them intruders what Sir Armand warned us about,” protested Peter.
Armand turned to him. “I want you to leave off mending the fence this afternoon and spread the word in the village, Peter. We’re looking for strong and capable men to come and work and patrol the grounds here. They’ll need to know how to handle themselves. It’s no good bringing me old men or the infirm.” He hesitated. “Former soldiers might work well.”
Peter scratched his head. “We might need to widen the net to Upper Derring and Derring Lacey too, mayhap?” he suggested.
Armand nodded. “Good idea. Tell them I’ll pay well and refer them to me or Otho here.”