Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Sirrah!” the woman gasped, trying to yank her tangled skirt away from his head. “Let me go!”

  Maximus realized that his arms were tangled in her skirts as well. “I am trying, my lady,” he assured her. “Kindly push yourself up and I will be able to move.”

  Evidently, the woman could feel his hot breath against her woman’s core as he spoke because she suddenly shrieked and began pummeling his head, still half-wrapped up in her skirts.

  “You beast!” she cried. “You dirty, foul beast! Remove yourself!”

  She was landing some heavy blows to his head and Maximus put his hands up, grabbing her fists as they swung at them. He could only see her with one eye because of the skirts still around his head, but that one eye was glaring.

  “You will cease your fit,” he growled. “I am not here by choice, lady. You fell on top of me. If anyone should be angry between us, it should not be you. Now, stop beating me and pull your skirts away from my head unless you wish to remain in this position for the rest of your life.”

  The young woman was embarrassed and frustrated. Maximus could see it in her expression. She was also the most utterly beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. With long, blond hair secured in a braid, she had a sweet oval face, lush lips, and big eyes the color of a hot, summer sky. She was absolutely ravishing. But that beautiful face was twisted into a serious frown.

  Grunting miserably, the woman yanked at her skirts, trying to push herself off of him. Maximus was able to get his arms free and he reached out, taking her by the waist as he sat up. He was able to set her to her feet before rolling over and rising to his knees. He watched as the woman ran over to the young girl, pulling the child into a relieved embrace.

  “Are you well, Issie?” she asked softly. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  The young girl shook her head, holding tightly to the woman. “Nay,” she replied, looking at Garran, who was standing a few feet away. “He… he saved me.”

  The young woman looked at the big, black-eyed knight. “You have my thanks,” she said sincerely. Then, she reluctantly turned to Maximus, who was just rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off his leather breeches. It was clear that she was torn between her embarrassment and her gratitude. “And to you, sirrah… I suppose I should thank you also. Had you not been here, the outcome might have been considerably different for my sister and me.”

  Maximus moved away from the flaming structure, which was starting to collapse. Pieces of building were falling onto the avenue and, silently, he and Garran moved the women away from the danger to the other side of the street. It was a chivalrous habit to protect the weaker, female sex and had nothing to do with his overall concern for the women. Considering the ungrateful lady had beat him around the head, he would just as soon leave her where she stood.

  “Your gratitude is unnecessary,” he said, realizing he was having difficulty looking her in the eye and not thinking of that sweet morsel between her legs that had presented itself so unexpectedly to him. “If you are uninjured and do not require further assistance, then we shall be along our way.”

  He didn’t even wait for an answer. He found that he was increasingly confused as to his reaction to the woman, as if she had somehow cast a spell over him. Something about her was pulling him towards her whether or not he wanted to and he didn’t like it, not one bit. As he and Garran turned away, heading back for the Street of the Merchants and to the business they were there to conduct, the young woman’s soft voice called after him.

  “Sirrah,” she said. “I should like to know your name so that I may tell my father. He will want to thank you.”

  Maximus paused and he turned to face her. Her voice had a silky, sensual quality, something he found quite alluring. A siren’s song, he thought ominously. She is trying to bewitch me with that honeyed tone.

  “As I said, gratitude is not necessary,” he said somewhat stiffly. “We were honored to be of assistance.”

  He turned to leave but, again, the woman stopped him. “Wait, please,” she said. By the time he turned around with some impatience to look at her, she was walking towards him, clutching the little girl beside her. Her lovely features were considerably softer. “I… I am sorry I became angry with you when you were only trying to help. I am afraid that my fear got the better of me. If you would forgive my behavior, I would consider it a personal favor.”

  Lord, but that tone was smooth and gentle. He almost closed his eyes to it, letting it flow over him, infiltrate him, and he knew that if he let himself go that she could talk him into anything with those dulcet tones. He wanted to walk away from her and away from the situation. He truly did. He had no involvement here and was anxious to be about his business. But gazing into those bright, blue eyes, he realized he couldn’t simply walk away from her. Something about her had reached out to grab him.

  “There is nothing to forgive, my lady,” he said, less stiffly. “Your fright is understandable.”

  She smiled faintly and Maximus went weak in the knees. He simply couldn’t help it. He’d never seen such a beautiful smile. “You are too gracious,” she said. Then, she indicated the girl in her grasp. “This is my sister, Lady Isadora de Lara. I am Lady Courtly. My father is Kellen de Lara. Mayhap you know of him.”

  Maximus cocked an eyebrow. “The Lord of the Trilateral Castles?” he asked. “Trelystan, Hyssington and Caradoc Castles. Your father is Viscount Trelystan.”

  Courtly nodded. “He is, indeed,” she said, surprised that the man should know her father in such detail. “Then you know him?”

  Maximus nodded. “I do,” he replied. He had a mind like a steel trap and never forgot anything once he’d learnt it. “The Marcher lords of de Lara hold nearly the entire southern portion of the Welsh Marches as the Lord Sheriffs. Everyone knows of your family, my lady. They are great and powerful. And I know your father well. He is a fine and just man.”

  Courtly’s smile grew. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I should like to tell him who saved my sister and me from certain death.”

  Maximus hesitated for a moment. A modest man, he wasn’t one to easily accept praise or accolades, but he saw no harm in giving the lady his name. Moreover, he wanted her to know it. As foolish as it was, he wanted her to know him.

  “De Shera,” he replied. “I am Maximus de Shera and my counterpart is Garran de Moray.”

  He was pointing to Garran beside him but Courtly didn’t look at Garran. She was focused on Maximus as the smile faded from her face.

  “De Shera,” she murmured, mulling the name over. “I believe I have heard my father speak of you. You have brothers, do you not?”

  “Two.”

  She nodded as her recollection returned. “Indeed, I have heard my father speak of you and your brothers,” she said. “One of your brothers is an earl, is he not?”

  “The Earl of Coventry.”

  “My father says the de Sheras are de Montfort’s muscle.”

  Maximus shrugged. “De Montfort has many men that fit that description,” he replied humbly. “We are simply part of a group under de Montfort’s command.”

  Courtly eyed the very big, very broad knight. He had brown hair, close-cropped, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that embraced his square-jawed face. His eyes were a very dark green, a color of the jade stone she had seen once on a piece of jewelry her father had given her mother. His features were even and well-formed, and he had shoulders so broad that she was sure the man couldn’t fit through a doorway with ease. His hands were the size of trenchers.

  He was exceptionally handsome, which did nothing to ease the embarrassment of what had happened when the linen rope had given way and she had fallen on top of him. The man’s face had been pressed right up against her genitals. She could still feel his scratchy beard against her tender core. The recollection of it sent shivers through her body, a quivering she did not understand, but all she knew was that it fed her embarrassment and caused her palms to sweat. Or perhaps there was mo
re to it than simply embarrassment, something primal and wanting. She simply didn’t know. All she knew was that she’d never known anything like it.

  “I am sure you are being modest,” she finally said. “I am not even a warrior, yet I have heard the de Shera name frequently. I am honored and fortunate that you were here to save my sister and me. It will make a fine story to tell my friends, in any case. They will be quite envious.”

  A flicker of a smile twitched on Maximus’ lips. “I hope it does not cause them all to run out and set buildings on fire, hoping I will come around to save them.”

  Courtly laughed softly, displaying lovely, white teeth. “Would it be such a burden, then?” she teased. “You are a hero, after all.”

  He shook his head firmly. “I am nothing of the sort,” he said. “I happened to be here at the right time and that is all.”

  Courtly’s eyes glimmered. “As I said, we were most fortunate.”

  Maximum simply nodded. The conversation was dwindling but he didn’t want it to. He rather liked talking to her. Her voice was like music to his ears and her smile made him forget all time and space and reason. It was hypnotic. He could have spent all day listening to her laugh. If she were a siren, then he was gladly, and quite happily, succumbing to her deadly charms. He didn’t care in the least. But he didn’t want to make a fool of himself by lingering over a dying conversation so he cleared his throat softly, sorry to see it end.

  “I will take no more of your time, my lady,” he said, eyeing the little girl clutched against her sister. “Before I go, however, tell me where your father is so I may send him word of your predicament. Surely he will want to know.”

  Courtly looked at the hostel, which was now crumbling with flame and ash. Men were attempting to douse the fire with buckets of water, sending great plumes of white smoke into the air.

  “I am not entirely sure where he is,” she said. “He said he had business to attend this morning but did not say where. My sister and I have nowhere to go at the moment. I suppose we should simply wait here for him to return.”

  Maximus, too, watched men struggle to put out the flame. The building was a total loss as people scrambled to keep the fire from spreading to the other closely-crowded buildings surrounding it.

  “Have you no one to wait with you?” he asked. “No servants or soldiers? None of your father’s men?”

  Courtly shook her head. “He took his men with him,” she replied. “My sister and I had a secured room and our nurse has gone to do some shopping. We were alone when the fire started.”

  Maximus turned to look at her. “Do you know how it started?”

  Again, she shook her head. “I do not,” she replied. “We heard the shouts and I went to open the door to the corridor and found it was filled with smoke. That is when I tied the bed linens together to make a rope.”

  Maximus was intently studying her lovely face as she spoke. He realized that she had a slight lisp, which he found very sweet. There was nothing imperfect about the woman as far as he was concerned.

  “That was very resourceful of you,” he said. “Not many women would have had the presence of mind to do that.”

  Courtly smiled bashfully. “It seemed the right thing to do,” she said. “I certainly wasn’t going to wait for the flames to consume us. I had to save my sister.”

  He nodded his approval. “And you did,” he said. “I shall wait with you until your father returns. That is the least I can do for the woman who saved her sister.”

  Courtly was back to laughing softly, now feeling giddy in his presence. She’d never felt giddy in her entire life so this was something new and rather thrilling. Contrary to their embarrassing introduction, she was quickly overcoming it and was now feeling at ease with the man. He was kind and considerate. She rather liked talking to him.

  “Truly, that is not necessary,” she said. “I am sure my father will return any moment.”

  Maximus simply nodded. “And I will leave when he comes,” he said, eyeing her. “But not before.”

  Courtly wasn’t sure what to say to that. She was very flattered that he should take it upon himself to remain with her until her father returned. She wanted to pretend he was doing it because there was something about her personally that he liked, not simply because he felt a sense of chivalry towards her, but it was a foolish hope and she knew it. Still, it was fun to pretend. She would probably never see him again after this so she would take what time she could with him, a handsome and honorable knight of the highest order, and make the most of it.

  “You are kind, my lord,” she said, looking away rather coyly when he turned his gaze to her. “Now I am feeling quite guilty for having called you a foul beast. You are nothing of the kind.”

  Maximus suppressed a grin. “You have already apologized for that.”

  She glanced at him. “I realize that, but I want to make sure you understand that I am truly sorry,” she said. Then her focus moved to the building in front of them, now a heap of flaming ruins. She sighed heavily. “Oh, dear… all of our possessions were in there. I did not even have time to throw them into the street. I suppose I really did not think to because it all happened so fast.”

  Garran, standing on the other side of the ladies, heard her. “Mayhap it is good that you did not, my lady,” he said. “There were thieves running off with the possessions that had been thrown out into the streets. Had they run off with yours, we would have had to tear apart the northern end of the city looking for them.”

  Courtly looked at the big, broad knight with the black eyes. “I would not have asked that of you, I assure you,” she said. “But I find it quite sad that people must steal because they do not have food to eat or clothing to wear. That is why they steal, you know. They have nothing else.”

  Garran glanced at Maximus over the lady’s blond head, seeing his own thoughts reflected in Maximus’ eyes. She is naïve, this one. A crystal princess raised in a crystal palace with the only true grasp of the world being what she had been told. Women such as Lady Courtly rarely had a true idea of the evils of the world, protected as they were. Garran cleared his throat politely.

  “Mayhap, my lady,” he replied. “But it is also equally as likely that they are simply greedy or wicked. It could be any number of reasons.”

  Courtly was still watching the smoldering ruins. “Poverty does terrible things to people.”

  Maximus was looking at her. There was something sad in her tone. “Poverty and greed drive men to do bold and wicked things,” he said, changing the subject because he didn’t want to debate the morals of mankind with her. He’d seen far more than this guileless lady could ever lay claim to. “I seem to recall that the de Laras have a townhome in Oxford. Why is it that you did not stay there instead of this hostel?”

  If Courtly noticed the obvious change in focus, and she would have had to have been daft not to, she didn’t comment on it. She smiled politely.

  “You know a great deal about us, Sir Maximus,” she said. “I wonder what else you know?”

  He gave her a half-grin. “I have always been one to remember tiny, little details,” he said. “Once I hear or read something, I never forget it. It is a gift or a curse, depending on how one looks at it.”

  “How do you look at it?”

  “It depends upon the information.”

  Courtly’s smile turned genuine. “I think it is a wonderful gift,” she said. “As for the de Lara home, we have one in Kennington, which is a few miles south of Oxford. However, my father’s sister is in residence right now and he dislikes her intensely, so we must stay in town.”

  Maximus snorted. “I had an uncle like that,” he muttered. “My father could not stand to be around him for a variety of reasons. He is the uncle that we used to… well, it does not matter what we used to do. In any case, it is a pity your stay in town resulted in the loss of your possessions, but at least you retained your lives. That is what matters most, is it not?”

  Courtly was watchin
g him intently. “What did you used to do to your uncle?”

  Maximus shook his head. “Childhood antics, my lady. Not worth mentioning.”

  “Will you tell me if I ask very nicely?”

  “Nay.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we were terrible children and I do not want you to think ill of me.”

  Courtly laughed softly. “I would never do that,” she said, a mischievous glimmer in her eye. “I will beg you if I have to.”

  “Do not beg.”

  “I will. I am about to do it. I swear, I will.”

  Maximus was trying not to grin, trying not to look at her, but she was being very charming. It was extremely difficult to resist.

  “Beg all you like,” he said, turning away from her so he wouldn’t have to look at that lovely, charming face. “I will never tell you. I would rather die than tell you.”

  Courtly could sense a game afoot. “That seems rather harsh,” she said, feigning seriousness. “Did you steal from him, then?”

  “Nay.”

  “Beat him?”

  “Nay.”

  She sighed deeply. “Then I cannot guess what it is,” she said, pretending to be resigned and miserable. “It would seem that I must go to my grave not knowing what you and your brothers did to this uncle. It is a terrible curse you have put upon me. Do you not know that a woman’s curiosity must be satisfied or else?”

  He looked at her then, grinning. “Or else what?”

  She could see she had his interest and she looked away, being playful. “I cannot tell you,” she said, turning the tables on him. “You would not like the answer.”

  “Tell me.”

  She shook her head. “I would rather die than tell you,” she said, using his own words. “And do not beg because it will not do any good.”