One Enchanted Evening by Lynn Kurland Page A

recent bucket. Montgomery caught his cook’s arm before he upended another bucket of water on her.
    “Do not.”
    The cook looked no less disgusted than Everard had, but he at least refrained from commenting. Montgomery looked about him but saw no sign of his companion in the night’s events. He supposed Everard had retreated happily to where he might strip off his clothes and have a wash. Montgomery wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t do the same thing before the night was through.
    He lifted the maid up in his arms, giving up the thought of not touching her sodden clothing. He was filled with less disgust than pity, but he also had no desire to wear more of his cesspit’s filth than necessary.
    He was favored with lewd suggestions and other unpleasantness on his way through the great hall, but he ignored it and continued on his way. It was only as he reached his bedchamber that he realized he hadn’t covered the gel’s wings. The saints be praised the revelers below had been too far gone to realize that.
    Or so he hoped.
    “Another one?” Phillip squeaked.
    “To my surprise,” Montgomery said shortly. “I imagine I’ll remain here in the passageway to guard these two since they aren’t able to lock the door. I don’t dare leave them to trouble they might not want.”
    “I understand, my lord.”
    Montgomery imagined Phillip did. Artane was not without its own share of odd happenings. He smiled briefly at his squire. “Find Sir Ranulf and send him to me, then bolt yourself into my solar so I’ll know you’re safe. We’ll resume our duties in the morning.”
    Phillip nodded, wide-eyed, then turned and trotted off down the passageway. Montgomery watched him go, looked up and down the short passageway to make certain he hadn’t been observed by anyone else, then let himself into his bedchamber and shut the door behind him with his foot.
    Well, the first thing to do was to see to the most pressing issue and that was ridding the poor wench in his arms of her clothing. Montgomery wasn’t completely untried in the matters of removing women’s gowns, but he had to admit, as he laid her on the floor in front of his fire and looked at her garb, that what he saw gave him pause.
    Her wings were crumpled and ripped in a place or two, and he wondered with no small bit of alarm if that pained her.
    He rolled her over gently, then realized to his great surprise that her wings were simply fastened to her gown with small round bits of bone. He was tempted to linger over that discovery, but the stench of her clothing was truly difficult to bear. He would see to that first, then turn his mind to the other riddle. He was quite grateful that his cook had done her the favor of ridding her hair of most of the filth. Her gown, however, had not fared so well.
    He left her wings alone and worked on the laces that held the back of her gown together. They were easily undone and in short order he had her gown removed. He steadfastly ignored the fact that her wings were fixed not to her skin but to the cloth and that she wore the most alarming undergarments he’d ever seen in his life.
    He supposed ’twas fortunate for them all that he had a strong stomach for things of an otherworldly nature.
    He studiously ignored looking at her lithe form, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He laid her down, took off her slippers, then covered her quickly with an extra blanket to preserve what modesty she had remaining her. He then happily went about the more pedestrian business of washing her gown as best he could in the basin of water standing on a table beneath the window. He tossed the water out the window, hung her gown over a chair near the fire, then paced in front of that fire for far longer than he should have before he could even think about turning around to look at the two women in his bed.
    He considered the very sensible thought that he should go downstairs, find a wall sturdy enough for his purposes, and