by Lynn Kurland
He tugged on one of her toes. “To see anyone I know?”
“You’re fishing again.”
“I can’t help it.” He swung her down into his arms. “Sit you on this bale of hay and admire my fine form while I see to my mount. And keep your feet up. You don’t want your bunnies getting damp.”
Genevieve sat back against the opposite stall door and felt herself be carried back in time hundreds of years. The sounds that filled the air were of mail and leather creaking, the soft stamping and snorting of the horses around her and Kendrick’s deep whisper as he talked to his horse in French. Her husband’s first language was Norman French; how astonishing! It made her wish the boundaries of time would thin just long enough for them to escape back into his world. How would it have been to have Kendrick as her knight in truth? To know that her safety, even her very life, depended on his skill?
And how would it have been to ride with him to Artane and meet his family? Would his parents have cared for her at all, or would they have wished Kendrick had chosen another? She was almost tempted to ask him to take her there anyway, so she could see where he had grown up. Unfortunately, the castle was probably not even close to what it had looked like in the Middle Ages. It might be too painful for him to see it changed.
“Genevieve?”
She looked up and caught her breath. It wasn’t that she wasn’t accustomed to his handsomeness, or his finely built body. She was. She was also very familiar with that knee-buckling, sexy smile of his. No, her abrupt loss of breath had nothing to do with those things. Or perhaps everything to do with those things.
This man was hers.
And he wanted to woo her.
He walked over to her purposefully, hauled her up into his arms and gave her a mock frown. “I hunger, wench.”
She put her arms around his neck. “Well? What are you going to hunt us for dinner?”
“I’ll slay a few steaks from the freezer.”
“You’re so brave.”
“Ah, a compliment,” he said, sounding supremely pleased. “I would have more of them. Perhaps while I am in the act of subduing the refrigerator with my sword. My prowess in battle was always greatly revered.”
She smiled and pressed her lips against his cheek. “I’ll cook supper. I doubt you’ll have the strength after all your efforts in gathering the goods.”
He only grunted again, arrogantly, and strode back to the house.
Kendrick sat at the long kitchen table with his legs stretched out and watched his wife as she puttered about in her medieval gown with those ridiculous slippers. Kendrick felt a surge of affection for her well up inside him and he couldn’t help but act on it. He jumped to his feet, whirled her around and planted a smacking kiss on her startled mouth.
“You are adorable,” he grinned.
She laughed at him. “Why?”
“Because you just are.” He kissed her again quickly, spun her back around and threw himself back down in his chair. Genevieve put her hand to her head, obviously to stop it from spinning, then looked over her shoulder at him.
“Are you feeling all right?”
He smiled and nodded. What he wanted to do was get up again and kiss her senseless. Instead, he remained firmly planted in his chair. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. He would woo Genevieve de Piaget until she was positively dizzy from his efforts, but he wouldn’t touch her until she touched him first. It might take him a month to woo her to his bed, but he could wait. Having her come to him willingly was worth any amount of patience.
Heaven help him.
He sat back and smiled, deciding that things were going rather well so far. It had been an hour since he’d swept his love up onto his horse and in that hour Genevieve had laughed more than she had in the past week. He’d made a fool of himself by stalking the refrigerator with his sword, then doing the same to the microwave until he’d announced that they were both properly intimidated. Genevieve had laughed so hard, she’d cried. He would have stalked the rest of the appliances if he’d thought she might have found it amusing.
He lifted his arms to stretch, then realized he couldn’t. By the saints, when was the last time he’d forgotten he was wearing mail? Not even on the Crusade had it become such a part of him. He rose and walked over to his wife.
“Would you excuse me a moment?” he asked politely. “I am in desperate need of a stretch after my hard exercise in this kitchen today and my mail hampers me greatly.”
She only smiled blandly. Kendrick had the presence of mind to be pleased with her lack of reaction. At least she didn’t expect him to come back down naked and ravish her on the table. He stroked his chin as he left the kitchen. Now, that was a fine idea. Perhaps his lady wouldn’t be opposed to it in a few months. Of course, Worthington would have to be sent on holiday again for them to have enough privacy, but Kendrick had the feeling the old busybody would find traveling much too much to his liking to protest being sent away again. Aye, a bit of loving while there was chocolate ice cream well within reach wasn’t a poor idea at all.
Getting his mail shirt off was a trick, but not completely beyond him. It was a relief to have the weight off his back. He shoved his legs into a pair of soft jeans and dug into his trunk for some kind of tunic. He pulled out a sweatshirt with the Raiders logo on it and smiled at the sight. When had Genevieve done this? Perhaps she wasn’t as opposed to him as she seemed.
Nay, that was unfair. She loved him. She had always been shy and likely still would be. For all he knew, he intimidated her with his size alone. A pity she hadn’t known his mother. He could call to mind scores of memories of his mother tilting her head back to shout at his father, who stood a good head and a half taller than she and doubled her in weight. But his father wouldn’t have hurt her for any money. Why, ‘twould have been unthinkable! He would have sooner cut down his sons than lay a hand on his lady. A pity Genevieve had never witnessed the like. She would have realized that he shared his father’s sentiments.
He hastened from the room and ran down the stairs and across the great hall to the kitchen. He could smell the seasoned meat and his mouth had already started to water. If he weren’t careful, he would be the size of his horse soon.
Genevieve was just setting down a chocolate milk shake at his place when he walked into the kitchen. He immediately rounded the table and wrapped his hands around the glass. Genevieve put her palm over the top and held the goblet to the table.
“No.”
“Aye.”
“Kendrick, not before supper.”
“I can decide for myself.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Aye, I can.”
She frowned.
Take no prisoners, Seakirk. He leaned over and captured her mouth with his. He didn’t try to force her mouth open, he simply covered her mouth with his and kissed her. She didn’t pull away. In fact, she lost her balance and leaned into him. He didn’t catch her. He pulled back and looked to see if his assault had achieved the desired result.
His lady was clutching the side of the table with both hands, her eyes closed, her mouth parted slightly. Oh, and his milk shake was now free. He downed the contents in one slow, throat- and brain-numbing draught, then set the glass down with a bang. He burped discreetly, to his ears anyway, and sat down with a satisfied grunt.
Genevieve opened her eyes and looked down at him.
“You, my lord, are a barbarian.”
He tried to look offended. “I burped discreetly.” By the saints, she looked like she was ready to faint!
“I wasn’t talking about that.”
He lifted one eyebrow and affected a casual pose. “Oh?”
She put her fingers to her lips and turned around to fetch a plate. Kendrick smothered his smile and jumped to grab a platter of vegetables that was nigh onto slipping from his lady’s fingers. He set it on the table and then put Genevieve in her chair. She didn’t look capable of getting there herself. Well, at least she wasn’t bolting. Perhaps he could ke
ep her dazed long enough to teach her to trust him.
Dinner was a silent affair. Kendrick was far too busy eating to talk and Genevieve looked to be too bemused. She toyed with her food as she leaned her chin on her hand and watched him devour his supper. He finished with all haste, then looked around for more. She smiled at him and pushed her plate over.
He consumed his second meal more slowly, mainly because Genevieve was watching him and he became uncomfortably aware of his table manners. Silverware had never been much of a concern for him in the past. A man didn’t live out-of-doors for months on end and worry about offending his comrades’ sensibilities. Kendrick ate with his hands, using his knife only when his teeth wouldn’t suffice. Just how did a man wield a fork without looking like a dolt? He looked up at Genevieve with a pained smile.
“Forgive me.”
“Why? You’re doing fine.”
“I’m embarrassing myself.”
She shook her head and came to stand behind him. She put her hand over his left hand. “Hold the fork like this. Once the meat is cut, either keep it in this hand or switch, whatever is more comfortable. Got it?”
“Ah, nay,” he said quickly, as she moved away. Deception wasn’t a sin when it was used to keep your wife near you, was it? “Show me again, Gen. Just another time or two.”
Needless to say, he finished the rest of his meal with Genevieve’s help. He was disappointed when he had to admit he hadn’t the room for anything else. Genevieve started to pick up the plates, but he stopped her.
“Love, that gown can’t be as comfortable as jeans. Go change. I’ll clean up here.”
“Kendrick, I can do it.”
“Nay, you cooked. I’ll clean up.”
“You don’t know how to run the dishwasher.”
“How difficult can it be? The plates go in dirty and come out clean. Even a medieval barbarian can comprehend the simplicity of that.”
She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I was just teasing about the barbarian thing.”
“I think not.”
“Kendrick—”
He smiled. “You like me this way, I know. I’m not offended.”
“Good. And thanks for doing the dishes. You’re a very chivalrous knight.”
Once she was gone, he released a most satisfying burp and then set to his work. Placing the plates in the dishwasher was insultingly simple and he marveled that he didn’t need to even clean them off first. How civilized man had become to invent a machine that could chew up bones, chunks of vegetables and crusts of bread, yet still deliver clean dishes an hour later. He had trouble initially with understanding which way to place the plates and mentally chided himself for not having paid closer attention to the commercials on television that might have shown him how to accomplish the feat. Well, everything lined up fairly well and the door closed readily enough. What else could anyone ask for? The machine made terrible noises when he turned it on but perhaps that was how it was supposed to sound.
Kendrick walked to the door of the kitchen and looked out into the great hall. Genevieve still hadn’t descended. He paused. He was full, but another milk shake would certainly suit him. Perhaps he would make one for his lady while he was at it. She was powerfully fond of the concoctions and he understood fully the reasons why.
The blender. Another modern miracle. He plugged the beast into the outlet, then searched for the glass beaker. He espied it sitting upside down on a cloth near the sink, along with its blades and such. Fitting it together was accomplished easily enough and he rested the glass on the white base. After fetching his ingredients, he searched for a spoon and set to work. It was slow going, likely because he ate more ice cream than he put into the blender. No matter, for there was plenty in reserve. Genevieve’s command had obviously made an impression on Worthington, for the freezer was stocked to the brim with all manner of chocolate ice creams. Though he preferred the chocolate with the chunks in it, all he could find was the smooth variety. Olde Fashioned, it was called. He snorted. Ice cream with bugs and rocks in it would have been Olde Fashioned.
He heaped several spoonfuls of the ice cream into the blender, then added what he thought to be an appropriate amount of milk. Hopefully it wasn’t enough to make the shake runny. If there was anything he couldn’t abide, it was a runny shake.
He looked at the blender, sizing up the enemy and wondering why it looked so incomplete. The white base with its buttons, the glass with its metal curved piece, and the contents. He looked over at the towel. Nothing there but a bit of black plastic and some silverware. He shrugged and turned back to his minor appliance. Now, the buttons were a puzzle but surely they meant what they said. Low? Nay, that sounded far too slow. High was what he needed. The ice cream was hard and would take a great amount of strength to soften it into a thick liquid. Feeling rather pleased with himself and his prowess in the kitchen, he held onto the white base of the blender and pressed down on the correct button.
There was a tremendous gurgle.
And then an explosion of ice cream and milk.
Onto every surface of the kitchen, including him.
“Merde!” Kendrick bellowed. “Bloody whoreson, what possesses you!”
The machine stopped. Kendrick wiped the ice cream from his eyes and blinked. Genevieve was holding out the black plastic object.
“You forgot the lid.”
Her eyes twinkled madly and her lips twitched, as if she strruggled mightily not to throw back her head and howl with laughter. Kendrick felt a severe blush stain his cheeks, though his lady wouldn’t have noticed, thanks to the chocolate mess that covered him from the waist up. Well, his choice was either to laugh or weep. A giggle escaped his wife and that was all it took. She held her sides and doubled over as peal after peal of laughter left her gasping for air. All Kendrick had to do was envision the sight that had greeted her to make him laugh just as heartily. By the saints, he was a buffoon!
Genevieve shook her head as she reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a clean towel. “Kendrick, you’re drenched. Let me get some of this off you. On second thought, go take a shower. I’ll clean up the kitchen. And what is that terrible noise?”
Before Kendrick had time to argue with her about cleaning the kitchen, she had shut off the dishwasher and looked inside.
Well, no wonder the infernal thing had been making such a racket. All the crockery was broken! He padded over and squatted down next to the open door.
“There is something amiss with this beast,” he said, clucking his tongue. “Look what’s happened!”
Genevieve laid her hand on his head gently. “Kendrick, you have to scrape off the plates before you put them inside. And you can’t put in bones, my love. The dishwasher doesn’t like them.”
He realized immediately the enormity of his mistake. He lifted his eyes and looked up at her, pained.
“Perhaps I’m not at my best in the kitchens.”
She bent and kissed the end of his nose. “Maybe not, but you look adorable wearing a chocolate milk shake.”
“And this machine here?”
“We’ll get someone to come fix it tomorrow. You’ll know what to do with it the next time.”
He closed the door and rose with a sigh. “Let me build you a fire in the hall, love, then I’ll come clean this mess. ‘Twas my doing, after all.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll help. Worthington keeps more towels in the pantry. Grab a few and we’ll have the kitchen back in shape in no time.”
Kendrick had to admit that his lady was a swift cleaner. He made a rather ineffectual attempt at helping her, making more mess than he cleaned up. He was more than willing to sit when she pushed him down into a chair, though he silently promised to cook her a few meals in repayment for her aid. She’d need her strength if she were to survive his wooing.
He closed his eyes as he listened to her walk over to the sink and turn on the faucet. He heard the sound of a cloth being wrung out and assumed she had done it prior to laying it
out to dry.
Until he felt her nudge his knees apart. His eyes flew open. She smiled and drew her hand over his brow, closing his eyes. Kendrick groaned when he felt the soft, warm cloth against his skin.
“Oh, Genevieve.”
“Kendrick, it’s going to take more than a simple face washing to get you clean. I think you should go take a shower.”
“Whatever you want, Gen.”
But he didn’t move and she didn’t stop her ministrations. Kendrick hardly dared breathe, afraid he would frighten her away. By the saints, how he loved the feeling of her hand on his skin, even though the thin cloth was in the way. He was half tempted to make another mess just so she’d have to fuss over him.
But when she pulled away, he didn’t protest. He was a patient man. He would wait until she came to him. She’d washed his face. That was a fine beginning, wasn’t it? He opened his eyes and smiled up at her.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I think I must bathe.”
“You are looking a bit crusty around the gills.”
He rose. “You’ll wait for me?”
“Here?”
“I’ll build you a fire in the hall. Then I have a surprise for you.” He was tempted to take her hand, but he refrained. Best not to push things. He led her out into the hall, built up the fire in the hearth, then made her a bow. “I will return posthaste, my lady. To show you your wedding gift.”
Her mouth hung open. “But, Kendrick, I don’t have anything for you!”
He bent and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. “You are my wedding gift, Genevieve. I could ask for nothing more.”
With that, he straightened and walked away. And he suppressed the powerful urge to peek around the corner of the stairs and see what her reaction had been.
He hoped she was smiling.
Chapter Twenty-six
Genevieve looked into the fire and grinned. How adorable he was! She was sure the sight of him gaping at the blender as it exploded upward like a volcano would forever remain etched vividly in her mind. If she hadn’t known it would have wounded his pride, she would have shouted with laughter right then and there. And that bewildered look he’d worn when she’d handed him the blender lid. She laughed again. Sweet, charming Kendrick. How could anyone resist him?
