Page 72 of Ella’s Desire

“My battle axe is yours.” Ella smiled. “Two ales until then.”

“Aye, of course.” The woman nodded and slipped away.

“Everyone is staring at you,” Bronson said under his breath.

“I’m not the only one.” She lifted her brows at his new gambeson. It was a deep blue wool, the edges crisp where everyone else’s were soft and fading. “You call quite a bit of attention yourself.”

He glanced discreetly around the room and noticed the number of eyes that had settled on him. She was right. He was attracting a good bit of attention. Initially he had been loath to remove his armor and be left vulnerable. Now, he was grateful for her suggestion.

The barmaid appeared and set two ales in front of them. Ella gave her several coins and shook her head when the woman tried to pass some back. “For your troubles.” Ella indicated the men behind her.

The woman laughed and slid the coins into a small pouch at her side. “Thank ye, m’lady. That’s kind of ye.”

Bronson lifted the ale, not realizing he was thirsty until that very moment. He drew a deep sip and nearly choked as the grainy liquid hit his tongue. He swallowed hard, gulping down what he wished he could spit out. A residual sourness lingered on his tongue, thick and unpleasant.

Ella drank hers without expression.

“I can appreciate a lass who likes a good battle,” said a man at the table behind them.

Bronson glared toward the table.

Ella shook her head slightly. “Don’t listen to it.”

“I bet she can put up a fight between the sheets, eh?” Another man added.

Bronson clenched his fists under the table. “They are insulting you.”

Ella glanced across the room at the barmaid. “Calm yourself. I need to speak with her a moment, and it won’t do us any good if you start a fight.”

Bronson frowned and glared at the men. If he were in court, he would have addressed them posthaste about their lack of consideration for a lady. If they still persisted, then he would have challenged them to a duel.

Ella got up from her seat with a warning glance in his direction. She walked across the room, much to the appreciation of almost every eye within the tavern.

The man at the table licked his lips with lewd appreciation. “I’d like to peel those hose off her legs and taste what she’s got in that honeypot of hers.”

“I bet the hairs there are as golden as those on her head,” said another man.

It was too much. Ella had asked him not to fight, but the level of disrespect for a woman had gone too far. It was more than he could bear.

“Such thoughts ought to be kept to oneself,” Bronson said in a low, dangerous tone.

At court, such a tone would have stopped most men. Here, every gaze at the table next to Bronson slowly turned toward him, shocked into silence. And then they laughed. At him.

“Is that yer woman?” The man with the missing bottom tooth asked. “Mayhap we ought to have a go at her once we knock this jackanape to the ground.”

Bronson pushed up from the table. “Mind what you say.”

“I see a lass in hose that need to be pulled down to bare that shapely arse.” The Scotsman stood up and stalked closer. “A lass in need of a good fucking.”

Before Bronson could even think about what he was doing, his fist shot out and connected with the whoreson’s jaw, hopefully knocking out another tooth. His opponent’s head snapped back, and the man slumped to the floor.

25

Ella knew a fight had broken out by first the shout and then the thud.

The barmaid looked to where the heavy crash sounded. “That man of yers is fighting.”

Ella sighed. She had told him not to bother listening to the reivers. Apparently, he had not heeded her warning. She turned and found that the young woman wasn’t entirely correct. Bronson wasn’t fighting, but the Scotsmen certainly were. One lay on the ground unmoving, while two more held Bronson in place and another drew back his fist.