Free The Pride of Lions by Marsha Canham

of the stables, where he was induced to remove his shirt and breeches. The cut on his temple required some patience to staunch the bleeding; the thigh wound was deep enough to warrant stitches, but Damien thought it prudent not to wait on the doctor and sent instead for the groomsman who usually tended the Ashbrooke horses. The stitches were put in place slowly and painstakingly, and when the actual sewing was done, Damien sent him away and helped wrap the wound himself in tight cotton strips.
    “The sooner you are away from here the better,” Damien muttered. “God damn , I should have known something like this would happen.”
    Raefer bit the end off a fresh cigar and lit it. “Becauseof me or because the lieutenant is an arrogant sonofabitch who likes to play cock of the block?”
    Damien glared. “You may think all of this is amusing, but Garner meant what he said. He doesn’t forgive and he won’t forget.”
    “You’re saying I should have killed him?”
    “It might have saved us both a lot of trouble.”
    Montgomery’s response was delayed as he leaned over the water barrel and rinsed his face and throat. When he straightened, his gaze was drawn to the door of the tack room, where Sir Alfred Ashbrooke stood, his multiple chins quivering in the lamplight.
    Damien turned. “Father!”
    Sir Alfred ignored his son. “Mr. Montgomery. I felt obliged to come and compliment you on your skill. I do not believe I have seen such fine swordsmanship in all my days.”
    Montgomery finished drying himself and pulled on a pair of clean breeches. “It is not the kind of compliment I seek on a day-to-day basis, but I thank you nonetheless.”
    “I thought you might also be relieved to know the wound in the lieutenant’s side, while certainly serious, is not likely to be fatal. The doctor feels it was quite a precise cut, missing most of the vital organs, and he anticipates a full recovery in time.” He paused a moment and clasped his hands behind his back, swaying slightly against a wave of alcoholic vapors. It was obvious he had been drinking heavily, his usual belligerence heightened by the effects of strong brandy. “I am encouraged to see your own wounds are minimal. Your … wife and family will be grateful to get you home in one piece.”
    Montgomery’s eyes flickered again as Colonel Halfyard loomed up in the doorway behind Sir Alfred, his nose just as red, his eyes just as bleary. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I am not married.”
    “Ah.” Sir Alfred smiled crookedly and nodded to the colonel, who in turn gave a signal to someone standingout of sight. That “someone” proved to be six armed dragoon officers, their uniforms tinting the shadows scarlet.
    Montgomery scanned the hostile faces before arching an eyebrow warily. “Have you come to arrest me, then?”
    “The duel was fairly fought,” Colonel Halfyard declared. “Fairly won. No need for an arrest.”
    Montgomery shrugged his big shoulders into a clean shirt. “In that case, I assure you the escort is unnecessary. I have no intentions of overstaying my welcome.”
    “The escort, sir, is to ensure your cooperation in fulfilling the rest of your obligation.”
    “The … rest of my obligation?” Montgomery frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”
    “Neither do I,” Damien said. “Raefer was challenged, he met the challenge, and won—honorably, as Colonel Halfyard has already noted. What else is expected of him?”
    Sir Alfred pursed his lips and rocked back on his heels like a lecturing prelate. “You were challenged for taking liberties with my daughter. You accepted the challenge. You won. These men are here to see that you assume your full responsibility.”
    Montgomery retrieved his cigar, but it did not quite reach his lips. “My … responsibility?”
    “Indeed. Your exact words were, I believe, I saw something I wanted and I took it . You fought for my daughter, sir, and you have won her fairly. Both she and the