The more Tiberius talked and the more time passed with Maximus missing, the unhappier he became.
“Greetings, my lady.”
Courtly heard the voice, deep and gentle, coming from behind. She had been bent over a boiling pot of vegetables and she turned, startled, to see Maximus standing in the doorway. Overwhelmed by the unexpected sight of him, she couldn’t even manage to find her tongue. She simply stared at him, wooden spoon in hand, and her mouth hanging open. She was trying to think of something to say to the man, for surely, he was expecting some manner of response, but through it all, she could only think one thing – Sweet Jesὑ, the man is more handsome than I remember!
Seeing Courtly’s obvious shock, Maximus grinned. “Please tell me that you remember me,” he said, sounding as if he were pleading. “Surely you have not forgotten my name.”
Red-faced from having been bent over a boiling pot, Courtly lowered the spoon. “Of course I have not forgotten, my lord,” she said. “I… uh… well, the cook is out in the yard and I was simply… helping so that….”
Maximus cut her off gently. “Your father told me what happened,” he said quietly. He could see that she was deeply shaken from his unexpected appearance. “In fact, he said you have cooked the entire meal.”
Courtly glanced around the kitchen. The big, simmering pot of beans and pork rested over the fire and a pile of bread was on the table. It would be difficult to deny such a thing and she supposed that it was too late to run off and hope he forgot he ever saw her in the kitchen. She was deeply surprised her father should tell Sir Maximus what had occurred and rather embarrassed that she had tried to lie to him about it.
“I… I did, my lord,” she finally said, sighing. “He really told you that?”
Maximus nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “Aye,” he said. “Your father said that your aunt fled and took the servants with her. I came to tell you that I am deeply honored that you would go to so much trouble to feed me and my men. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Stunned at not only the generous offer but also by the man’s attitude towards the dirty grind of kitchen work, Courtly had no idea what to say to him. The question seemed genuine but certainly he couldn’t have meant it. Not only was it woman’s work, but it was something only servants and peasants would do. After a moment, she simply shook her head.
“You are a guest,” she said. “I would not dream of letting you help. But you are kind to offer.”
Maximus couldn’t take his eyes off her. With her cheeks red, her hair mussed, and her hands dirty, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He thought that maybe their first meeting had been an illusion of sorts, that she really wasn’t the angel he’d built up in his mind. But seeing her at this moment, at probably what she considered to be her worst, all he could think was how utterly marvelous she was. She was better than he had remembered.
“But you have no one to help you other than Lady Isadora, who is doing a fine job,” he said, watching Isadora grin as the girl gathered more bread and rushed out to take it to the hall. “I am relatively strong and follow commands well. If you just tell me what to do, I will do it.”
So he had meant his offer and Courtly was off-guard by his chivalry. She wasn’t used to a man offering himself in servitude to her, a man she had been counting the minutes until she saw again. Now, here he was, unwilling to leave her alone as she worked hard to prepare his meal. He was offering to help. But the mere thought was distressing.
Sweet Jesὑ, she wanted so badly to impress him. She wanted him to think she was a lady and meaningful of his attention. But here she was, in her dirty, smoke-smelling dress, her hair askew and her cheeks flushed from the heat. She knew she looked terrible. Her heart began to beat faster in her chest and her breathing began to quicken. Emotions she couldn’t control were bubbling up in her chest, embarrassment and disappointment and longing. Aye, she longed for him, longed to see him again, and longed to be a woman worthy of a de Shera. But she wasn’t. In her present state, she knew she wasn’t. She looked like the lowliest peasant, dirty and smelly. After this night, she was sure she would never see him again.
“You do not need to help,” she said softly, defeat in her voice. “You are my father’s guest and he would become enraged if he saw that you were to help me. It is bad enough that his daughter has been forced to cook the meal. I cannot even imagine what you must think of me, Sir Maximus. When you first saw me, I fell out of a window and landed on your head. Now, you see me working in a kitchen. I do not blame you if you think the de Laras are terribly uncivilized and uncouth people. We have shown you little else.”
Maximus gazed steadily at her. There was a faint smile on his face and an expression he’d never had before. Something like understanding with an inkling of adoration thrown in. He just couldn’t stop staring at her. Her words, for him, had no meaning. She had no idea what he was thinking because he didn’t really know himself, but he knew that it wasn’t disgust or disappointment. It was something he’d never before known. It was warmth, liquid and viscous, like honey flowing through his veins. It made his heart pound and his hands sweat. Reaching into his tunic, into the pouches sewn on the inside, he pulled forth the small, silken purse with the phial inside.
“This is what I think of you,” he said quietly, extending the purse. “I brought this to thank you for being so kind to have me to sup. I brought it as a gift for you. I hope that you do not think me too forward.”
Shocked, Courtly looked at the small, silk purse. It was a moment before she reached out, hesitantly, to accept it. But she didn’t open it. She simply stared at it.
“For me?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
Maximus nodded. He found that he was fairly eager for her to open it. “Indeed,” he said. “It is not unheard of to give a gift to the hostess of a feast.”
Courtly was still looking at it. “Does Papa know you brought this?”
“He does not.”
Her eyes came up, studying him. “I am not entirely sure he would allow me to accept a gift from you, Sir Maximus. Papa is rather… odd about those things.”
Maximus snorted. “Why?” he asked. “It is not as if I am giving you a jewel, for Christ’s sake. It’s simply a… a gift. You do not have to tell your father if you wish.”
Courtly’s lips twitched with a smile as she gazed up at him. “I am glad you said that,” she said, “for I very much want to keep it, but I fear that Papa will make me give it back if he knows.”
“Then do not tell him,” Maximus told her. “Now, open it quickly before he comes in here, sees the gift, and berates us both – me for giving it and you for accepting it.”
Courtly laughed softly as she rapidly untied the purse and pulled forth the alabaster phial. She gasped softly when she saw it, with great pleasure, and when she pulled out the stopper and inhaled the rich, rose scent, she sighed again. Her face lit up with a bright, grateful smile, a gesture that sent Maximus’ heart fluttering wildly.
“Thank you, Sir Maximus,” she said sincerely. “Perfumed oil, isn’t it?”
Maximus nodded. He was trying very hard not to grin like an idiot because her reaction had pleased him so. “Do you like it, then?”
“I love it,” she said, nodding firmly. “It is the most wonderful gift I have ever received. I cannot thank you enough for your thoughtfulness. You truly must be a very generous and kind man.”
Maximus was starting to feel a bit embarrassed with her gratitude. He didn’t like recognition, or praise, but she was giving it to him in great doses and he was starting to feel uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know how to gracefully accept it. Her thanks had been enough but her praise had made him self-conscious. He was mesmerized by her happy expression and wanted very much to be gracious in return, but he had no idea where to begin. He pointed at the delicate phial.
“You should hide it now,” he said. “If your father finds it, he will want to know where you got i
t and I do not wish to lie to him.”
Courtly cocked her head, eyeing him as she sniffed at the oil again. “Would you lie to him on my behalf?”
Maximus pursed his lips, clasping his hands behind his back and kicking at the dirt of the kitchen floor in a sweetly coy gesture. “I suppose I would have to,” he said. “I gave it to you, after all. I should not like for him to become enraged at you for something I did.”
Courtly smiled at him as she put the phial back into the purse and shoved the entire thing into a pocket in the waistline of her surcoat. When she was finished tucking it away, she returned her focus to Maximus. He was watching her closely, and she took a moment to simply take in the man and his features; the square jaw covered by the neatly trimmed beard, the straight nose, the cropped hair. To think that such a handsome man would bring her a gift made her feel light and giddy, but it was more than that – he was showing depth that she had never seen in a man of his caliber. Working in a kitchen and an unkempt appearance didn’t disturb him. Was it possible that Maximus de Shera was a man of true and noble character, more than she could possibly imagine?
“You are very gallant to want to protect me,” she said after a moment. “Is that who you truly are, Sir Maximus? A protector of women who jump out of windows?”
He shrugged. “I am a protector of women who need it,” he said. “You may need it should your father discover what I brought you.”
“If he does, I will handle him. I would not want to trouble you with it.”
“It would be no trouble, I assure you.”
She laughed softly, mostly because he seemed so unsure of himself as they skirted the edge of a flirtatious exchange. “How can you say that to me?” she demanded lightly. “I smell of smoke, my face is red, and I am cooking like a common servant. I cannot comprehend that you would still be so gallant towards a woman who has done naught to impress you, in any fashion.”
Maximus’ smile faded as he gazed into her big, beautiful eyes. His guard was going down and he didn’t even realize it. He wasn’t practiced enough with women yet to truly know how to maintain a sense of self-protection. Whatever magic Courtly de Lara had, it was working on him. It was breaking him down, stone by de Shera stone.
“That is not true,” he said quietly. “I knew when I met you this afternoon that you were a lady of breeding and beauty and honor. Even now, you cook a meal because there is no one left to do it. Rather than let us starve, you would make sure we do not. That speaks greatly for your character, my lady. You have impressed me deeply yet you do not even realize it.”
Courtly could feel his sincerity. Something in his gaze was reaching out for her, touching her, like invisible fingers that would stroke her cheek or touch her hair. She could feel all of this from him and more, and her heart, much like his, began to race wildly. Could it be possible that the man was as interested in her as she was in him? She could not dare to hope but, evidently, it was true. She could read it in his expression and in everything about him. Her heart began to soar.
“If that is true, then I am honored and grateful,” she said, feeling heat in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat of the kitchen. The heat came from Maximus’ gaze. “At the very least, I have not offended you with my actions, and I am greatly relieved.”
Maximus found himself inspecting the arch of her eyebrows and the pert tip of her nose. She had such a magnificent face. “Nay, lady, you have not offended me,” he said, his tone gruff and soft. “You could never do such a thing. But as much as I would like to continue this conversation, mayhap we should take the food into the hall now so that my men will not faint away from hunger. My brother has come with me and he becomes quite cross when he is hungry, so do allow me to help you bring the meal to the table. It would be my honor.”
Courtly wasn’t sure she could deny his offer for help again. Truth was, she didn’t want to deny him. He was being genteel and kind, and she liked it very much. She wanted to keep him with her, around her, even if that meant carrying trays of beans and pork. If he was willing, she would let him. She smiled in surrender.
“Very well,” she said. “I should not like your brother to become angry because he is famished. I must carry this great pot out to the feasting hall so that we may distribute the stew from it. Will you help me with it?”
Maximus looked around the kitchen, noting there were no trenchers. “That is a very heavy and very hot pot,” he said. “What did you plan to serve the stew in?”
Courtly sighed, the smile fading from her face. “There is no old bread or trenchers that I can find,” she said. “However, I made bread and I thought… well, it seems barbaric for all of us to eat out of the pot, but I am not sure there is any choice.”
Maximus began poking around the kitchen, looking for something to serve guests with individual servings. Under the butcher’s table, he found four wooden trays, which he pulled out and set upon the tabletop.
“We can use these,” he said. “We can cover them with the bread you prepared and then put the stew on top of it. Do you have spoons?”
Courtly inspected the trays. “I am ashamed I did not find these before you did,” she said, shrugging when he grinned at her. “They are rather dirty. Mayhap we can rinse them with water and use them as you have indicated. It is a brilliant idea. And I have indeed found some spoons to use.”
“Excellent,” Maximus said, picking up the trays. “Where is the well?”
Courtly pointed to the kitchen yard outside. “In the yard,” she said. “I will see if I can find other things to use to serve the stew in.”
Maximus winked at her and went out into the yard, drawing water in the darkness to rinse off the dirty trays. Still lingering on his wink, Courtly went about searching for other trays, stashed or hidden, and found six wooden bowls of varying sizes that had been kept under a smaller butcher’s block. Maximus ended up rinsing those off as well, and when all was said and done, they had found eleven items that could be used to eat from.
Both Maximus and Courtly were people of thought, of resourcefulness, and in this small moment of time, in a smelly and smoky kitchen, they bonded over making the evening meal a success as neither of them had ever bonded with anyone else. It was an odd situation, to say the least, but one that brought out the best in both of them. Courtly started it when she decided not to let her dinner guests go hungry and Maximus helped ensure that Courtly’s efforts would be a success. By the time the food was actually brought to the table, in abundance, Courtly was actually proud of what she had done and Maximus admired the woman more than he could have expressed. He was the last one to be seated, ensuring that Courtly was seated and served before he was. It was a sweetly chivalrous gesture, one that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room, including Kellen.
But Kellen was the only one who wasn’t touched by it. In fact, he could see that something was brewing between Maximus and his daughter and he silently scolded himself for inviting the man into his home where he could get his claws into Courtly. His daughter, however, didn’t seem to mind in the least. She spent the entire evening smiling at Maximus and speaking to him on fairly frivolous things, to which he paid careful attention. Any other man would have ignored the topics she was discussing, but not Maximus. He was listening. Any man who would listen to talk of flowers and painting and art was a fool for a woman, indeed. Kellen cursed himself for not having seen any of this at the onset.
As the evening deepened and Kellen watched the interaction between the two, he knew that he could not let it go on. Whatever was happening had to be immediately stopped.
He would have to end it.
PART TWO
WINDS OF CHANGE
CHAPTER FIVE
The One-Eyed Raven Inn
The Lady Jeniver ferch Gaerwen de Shera sat across the table from her husband’s brother at the morning meal, a surprising event considering her pregnancy often kept her in bed in the morning. But not this morning, she was actually hungry as she pulled bread apart
as Gallus, Maximus, Tiberius, and the knights sat in the quiet common room of the old inn. Men were sleeping in various positions around the room, just beginning to stir, as the sun began to rise.
“Please tell me about your meal at Lord de Lara’s last night, Max,” Jeniver insisted as she popped a piece of warm bread into her mouth. “Ty said that the lord’s daughter actually cooked the meal herself. Is this true?”
Maximus smiled weakly. He was exhausted because he hadn’t slept all night. Thoughts of Courtly de Lara had been seared into his brain until there was nothing else he could think of. Her brilliant smile, her honeyed voice, and her magnificent beauty had him obsessed as he had never been obsessed with anything in his life. He’d only known the woman a day, but in that day, he’d come to discover a woman of humor, intelligence, determination, and compassion. There wasn’t one aspect of the woman that he didn’t like or wasn’t attracted to.
“Aye,” he said. “Evidently, her father and his sister hate one another. The sister resides at Kennington and when de Lara told her he’d invited guests for dinner, the woman ran off and took her servants. Rather than let her father be embarrassed in front of his guests, Lady Courtly cooked the meal herself to save the man’s honor.”
“And it was a damn fine meal,” Tiberius, mouth full of bread, spoke. “She learned her craft at Prudhoe Castle and the meal was delicious. But I came to see last night that we may have a problem with the lovely Lady Courtly.”
Jeniver’s brow furrowed. “What problem is that?”
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