The Whispering Night Read Free Page B

appearance.
    "You will respect
the House of de Rosa, le Mon," he growled. "We have no patience for
your demands."
    Garren's jaw ticked.
"Since when is a man's right considered a demand? Have I been from England
so long that all propriety is ignored?"
    Alger bristled but
Bertram stopped him. "We are not ignoring your demands, Sir Garren. But do
we not have a right to question my daughter's future husband? Would you not
expect that formality were it your daughter?"
    Bertram wasn't being
particularly obstinate; he was simply asking a question. Garren thought perhaps
it was time he softened his stance a bit and allowed the man to have a look at
him. But he had no doubt that any of them would think twice before challenging
him in any way. With a faint nod of his head, he then accepted a cup of wine
that Bertram extended. Alger stood there and grumbled until Bertram silenced
him.
    "Sir Garren,"
Bertram began. "Please tell us of your adventures in the Holy Land. You
are the first crusader we have seen in many months. What news is there?"
    Garren did not drink the
wine; he simply held it in his hand. It was a nominal insult, accepting the
wine but not drinking it, suggesting it was sub-standard or that there could
possibly be poisoned laced in it. In any case, it was to further stress that he
was no one to be manipulated or trifled with.
    "The news is that
the men grow weary of fighting," he said. "One out of every two
Englishmen die from either illness or hunger, and the sands are littered with
more knights dead from disease than from Saladin's arrows."
    "What does the king
have to say about the condition of his men?" Daniel's deep voice came from
behind. "Surely the king would be concerned for the men who have followed
him on his quest?"
    Garren looked at the
young, dark-eyed man. "Richard spends his nights in his tent with his
lovers. He cares little for those who have sworn service to him. It is a dirty,
bloody undertaking and I am more than glad to be free of it." He turned
back to Bertram. "If there are no more questions, I would see my
bride."
    Bertram stared at him.
Then, he snorted ironically. "Not like your father, are you?"
    "What do you
mean?"
    "Andrew is the
congenial sort."
    "As I am not. And I
am not happy with the fact that I return from the Levant a committed man."
    "You have never
been so fortunate," Lon, the youngest uncle, spoke up. "Every man in
England would kill for the chance to become Derica's husband.  Had you not been
off killing infidels and bedding pagan whores, you might show more manners with
civilized people."
    Garren cast him a long
glance. "Are you suggesting that I am uncivilized?"
    There was great threat
in his tone. Lon smiled thinly. "I suggest nothing of the sort. I say it
plainly."
    Garren had been forced
to leave his weapons at the door. But that did not prevent a great arm from
shooting out, grasping Lon around the neck. Everyone leapt to aid him, but
Bertram's shout stopped the onslaught.
    "Enough," he
roared. "Le Mon, you will release him immediately. I forbid you to show
such disrespect in my house. One infraction is forgivable, but do it again and
I shall throw you in the vault myself. Is that understood?"
    Garren's gaze moved to
Bertram. He still held Lon in his massive grip. Ever so slowly, he released the
smaller man, but the implication was obvious. It was a pack of wolves against
one Alpha male, and there would be a war if all sides did not quickly come to
terms.
    "I do not
disrespect the House of de Rosa, my lord," he said. "But if you
expect such reverence from me, I would expect the same from you. I will not be
called uncivilized by men who stay in England, clinging to her shores as a
child clings to his mother's skirts."
    Every man in the room
flared except for Bertram and his eldest son. "Do you call us
cowards?" Donat bellowed.
     Garren didn't back
down. "You are either cowardly or too brainless to serve your country when
needed, so I will hear no more talk of my being