England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I can carry it,” she insisted.

  Maximus could see that he’d either embarrassed or offended her and hastened to make amends. “Of course you can,” he said. “I only meant to help. Forgive me for offering if you did not need it.”

  Isadora was growing more flushed by his sweet behavior and she smiled timidly. “I am not offended,” she said, moving towards the table of men with the cups in her hands. “I was being very careful not to drop it.”

  Maximus nodded. “I could see that,” he said. “You are quite strong. In fact, I do believe your muscles are bigger than mine.”

  Isadora’s smile grew as she became flustered and flattered at the same time. “I am not too strong,” she said. “You are teasing me.”

  Maximus grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling just as Isadora said they did. “I never tease a lady,” he insisted, although it was obvious he was jesting. “Well, not much.”

  Isadora giggled. Much like her sister had been, she too was very quickly becoming enraptured by the big, handsome knight. “I must return to the kitchen and bring out more food,” she said eagerly. “I will come back.”

  Maximus’ confused expression returned. “Why must you get food?” he asked. “Why do you not sit down and join the conversation?”

  Isadora spoke before her father could interject a tactful explanation. “Because we cannot find the servants,” she told him with straight honesty as only a child could give. “It is only my sister and I, and one servant Papa managed to find.”

  Brow furrowed now, Maximus glanced at Kellen. “Where are your servants?” he asked the question to both of them. “Has something happened to them?”

  Kellen was appalled that his youngest daughter had divulged the information he had been trying very hard not to disclose. Isadora was young, intelligent, and tactless.

  “Nay, nothing has happened to them,” he said quickly. “They belong to my sister and… you see, my sister has….”

  “Auntie did not want to prepare a feast tonight,” Isadora said helpfully because her father seemed to be stumbling. “She did not want to share her food or servants, so Papa became angry with her and she ran off and took her servants with her. Courtly and I have been working in the kitchen and cooking. She wanted to make a good meal for you and I have helped her.”

  She said it rather proudly as Kellen put a hand over his face, appalled at the words that had just come out of his daughter’s mouth. That which he had been trying to conceal was now common knowledge for the entire room. He didn’t dare look at Maximus, who was staring at Isadora as if attempting to comprehend what she had just told him.

  “Your sister has been cooking?” he repeated. “Do you mean to tell me that she has actually cooked a meal?”

  Kellen’s hand came away from his face. “It is not as bad as it sounds,” he insisted weakly. “Courtly is a fine woman, my lord. Cooking is a servant’s task and she certainly would not do it habitually. She….”

  Again, Isadora cut her father off, eager to tell Sir Maximus of Courtly’s accomplishments. At least, Isadora thought they were great accomplishments.

  “She wanted to make sure you were presented with a great feast,” she said enthusiastically. “She did it herself, all of it. She made a stew with beans and pork, and she made a boil of vegetables that has vinegar and honey and pepper in it, and she also fried the pork and made a sauce of onions and butter to put on it. But she had trouble with the bread… it has eggs and milk and onions in it. She couldn’t make it puff up like real bread.”

  Maximus listened to the child rattle on. He was stunned, but not for the reasons Kellen might have thought. True, it was shocking for a noblewoman to cook, but he was overcome with the fact that Courtly actually went to the trouble to do it. Once again, faced with a situation that was seemingly difficult, in this case an aunt running off with all of her servants, Lady Courtly showed her ingenuity by cooking a meal herself so that there would be food to eat for guests. For him. Truly, he was astonished by the lengths the woman went to in order to please her guests. The fact that cooking, by noblewomen, simply wasn’t done had never even entered her mind.

  “Where is your sister?” he asked after a moment.

  Isadora pointed to the door near the fire pit. “In the kitchen.”

  Maximus’ gaze found the door. It was difficult to read his thoughts for his expression remained neutral. He had learned long enough never to show his emotions. After a moment, he turned to Kellen, who was not so adept at hiding his thoughts. He spoke.

  “You are ashamed of this.” It was not a question.

  Kellen was looking up at Maximus with some hesitance in his features. “I did not want you to think my daughter is anything other than a fine lady,” he said. “Noblewomen do not spend time in the kitchen, cooking, and I do not want you to think I forced my daughter into some manner of servitude. It was her idea, I assure you. She simply did not want me to be embarrassed when you attended a feast with no food.”

  “So she cooked an entire meal by herself?”

  Kellen nodded with some resignation. “She did,” he said. “I apologize that I have no cook or servants to offer you this evening. Although it is unseemly, it would seem my daughters must do the work tonight. I pray you can overlook that breach of etiquette.”

  Maximus just looked at the man. Then, he moved away from the table and headed for the small door near the fire pit. Isadora, not to be left behind, trotted after him. When they disappeared through the door, Kellen turned his perplexed expression to Tiberius.

  “Where did he go?” he asked. “Surely he does not intend to humiliate or berate my daughter.”

  Tiberius wasn’t sure where Maximus had gone but he shook his head firmly in response. “Never,” he said firmly. “My brother would not do that. I am sure he intends to thank the lady for her efforts.”

  Kellen, now concerned over Maximus and his daughters, alone in a kitchen, returned his focus to the small kitchen door. “Then mayhap I should go also.”

  He started to rise but Tiberius put out a hand, forcing the man to stop. “No need,” he said evenly. “I am sure Maximus will return shortly. Meanwhile, you will tell me of Kennington House. I have never heard of it before, you know. How long has it been in the de Lara family?”

  Kellen allowed himself to be reluctantly engaged in a conversation about the history of Kennington House, but the truth was that his thoughts were on the kitchen where Maximus had gone. He didn’t like the idea of the man being alone with his eldest daughter, even if Isadora was present. There was something unsettling and unseemly about it. He didn’t like men around his daughters as it was, not even men who had saved their lives, so it was very difficult for him to remain and allow himself to be engaged by Tiberius de Shera. All the while, he kept wondering what Maximus was doing, speaking to Courtly, unchaperoned. Nay, he didn’t like it at all. Men were only after one thing, even men like Maximus de Shera.

  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 it 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.