Chapter Thirteen #3
Garret looked around, getting his bearings of where the street was in relation to any taverns he might be aware of in the area.
It was well past the nooning meal and he was a little hungry, too.
Aldergate Road was just south of them and there were some popular taverns there, certainly a place where they could find a meal and perhaps spend more time to talk before he had to return her to The Wix.
He knew he had to return her but, God help him, he didn’t want to be separated from her, not even to return her home.
He wanted to stay just as they were, forever.
But the reality was that, at some point, a separation would come, as disappointing as it was. And another reality was that they were both hungry. He focused on the taverns that were on the street to the south and a gleam came to his eye.
“I think I know a place,” he said.
Her features lit up. “A-Another tavern? O-Or can we return to The Laughing Gravy?”
He laughed softly. “There are many taverns in London other than The Laughing Gravy,” he said. “Be adventurous. Try another one.”
“W-Will it have entertainment?”
“Possibly.”
She grinned. “I-I am in your hands, my lord. I trust you.”
His smile faded, thinking on all of the implications that statement held. She trusted him; that was a good thing. But did he trust himself around her?
Increasingly, the answer was more than likely not.
In truth, he wasn’t all that distressed about it.
*
The Drunken Cock Inn
The name was only marginally less strange than The Laughing Gravy, but Lyssa didn’t notice the odd name, the rather low-class patrons, or the smell of rubbish that seemed to come forth from the very walls.
The only thing that mattered to her was the fact that the moment they entered, with Garret all but shoving people out of the way, there were two wenches standing on stools and singing loudly to a crowd of customers who were more interested in looking up the women’s skirts than in the song they were singing.
“Show us yer drunken cock, Nessie!”
Shouts like that abounded and the room would burst into laughter when the wenches would lift their skirts to their knees, teasingly, but no higher.
It was naughty fun, Lyssa thought, but Garret wasn’t so sure.
Before they even found a table inside the crowded inn, he was starting to think that it wasn’t such a good idea to bring Lyssa to such a bawdy place.
When he thought to suggest that they perhaps find their meal elsewhere, he looked down at Lyssa and caught the expression on her face. Pure, unadulterated joy.
There was no way she was leaving.
With a grunt of resignation, he found a table for them back near the window overlooking the street.
Trouble was, there were already people there and he’d had to forcibly remove them as Lyssa stood by with big eyes, watching Garret toss two men away from the table and then challenging them to fight back.
Wisely, they didn’t, and Garret confiscated the table for Lyssa, tossing the remains of the previous meal onto the floor and then bellowing for a serving wench. Two women scrambled in his direction.
“What’ll it be, m’lord?” the older of the pair asked. She was round, with wild red hair, and missing teeth. “A drink for you and your lady?”
Garret nodded, setting the trunk on to the ground at his feet and shoving it partially under the table. “What do you have that is good?” he asked. “And I do not mean the cheap product the rest of the room is drinking. What do you have that costs money?”
The wench’s gaze moved over Garret, then to Lyssa, and back again.
She knew customers and could tell that the knight had money to spend.
“This lot is drinking ale we brew in the stable,” she said.
“It tastes like horses. But for you… there is some good Spanish wine we keep just for men such as yourself.”
“Bring it. And what do you have to eat?”
As the younger wench went running for the wine, the older wench cocked her head. “This lot has been eating boiled mutton that’s a week old,” she said, snorting at the thought of people not caring what they were ingesting. “But the tavernkeeper’s wife just made a brymlent. It smells good!”
Garret frowned. “What is that?”
Lyssa spoke up. “A-A fish and fruit pie,” she said. “I-If it is made correctly, it is quite good.”
He looked at her, unsure he wanted to try a fish and fruit pie, but he waved the older wench onward. “Bring that, too,” he said, “and anything else you have in the kitchens that might be good to eat.”
The older wench sauntered away. As Lyssa watched the singing wenches finish their song, Garret removed his heavy leather gloves and kicked the trunk even further underneath the table.
He didn’t want to advertise the fact that he had a trunk full of goods to the thieving rabble that undoubtedly populated a place like this.
In fact, he started looking around, seeing the clientele, and turned to Lyssa.
“I can find a better tavern for you,” he said, trying to press his point again. “I have been to this place before but only with my men, so it did not occur to me that it is not a place for a lady.”
But Lyssa grinned. “I-I think it is fascinating,” she said. “B-Besides… nothing can happen to me with my protector about. I-I am not concerned.”
He looked at her and, seeing the smile on her face, gave in to the urge to put his arm around her.
He’d been so careful displaying his affection up until this point, or at least moderately careful.
But in this establishment full of the dregs of London, he saw no reason not to show his fondness for the lady.
He was finished showing restraint. Therefore, a big arm went around her, pulling her chair right up against his.
“Your faith in me is flattering, my lady,” he said, his voice low as his face came very close to hers. “I shall always endeavor to earn it.”
Lyssa’s heart was fluttering wildly as his big arm went around her, pulling her close.
He was being open with his affections and she was so thrilled with it that she was nearly lightheaded.
It was difficult to catch her breath. She found herself staring at his face, the lines of his angular jaw, a dark beard with flecks of silver in it, but it was more of a beard that comes about when a man hasn’t shaved in a few days.
It wasn’t a truly cultivated or heavy beard.
Just enough to give him a rather rugged look.
Somewhere beneath that beard, she could see skin that had been marred by eruptions in his youth, but it didn’t take away from his masculine beauty.
And when she looked into those black eyes…
eyes blacker than night… it was as if she had no will of her own.
It brought something Juliana had once told her to mind.
“I-I was told that you are called Kronos, the Father of the Gods,” she said. “J-Juliana told me that on the night I met you. L-Looking at you now, it is very easy to believe that.”
A flicker of a smile crossed his lips. “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged, reaching out a timid hand to touch the beard on his face, finding it scratchy like bristles.
“B-Because there is something about you that speaks of power,” she said.
“I-I am not sure if I can describe it, but I feel as if… as if you are a man of such depth and experience, that surely a man like that is not finite.”
Garret took one of her hands and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.
As much as Lyssa’s heart was racing, his was racing all the more.
She had that effect on him. “I am, indeed, mortal,” he said softly.
“A man of mortal feelings and hopes and dreams. Until I met you, I never realized I even had such capabilities.”
Now, the warmth and attraction that had always been present between them was turning into something more.
It was giving them permission to touch one another, to discover each other on a deeper level with a gentle touch or, in Lyssa’s case, with a hand to Garret’s face to feel his beard for the first time.
It was exploration in the greatest sense of the word as Garret kissed her fingers again, smiling at her when she tickled his cheek through his scratchy beard.
It was excitement and delight in its purest form as two lonely people realized they weren’t alone anymore.
Now, they had each other.
“W-What do you hope for, Garret?” she asked, trying not to speak loudly but the noise of the tavern room made the situation not quite as romantic as it could have been. “D-Do you wish for a peaceful life after we are married? O-Or will you continue your duties at Westminster?”
He took the hand that he was holding and pressed her palm against his face, acquainting himself with the touch and feel of her against his flesh.
“I have duties and responsibilities to Richard,” he said.
“But I want to make you happy, also. I suppose I’ve not thought much of it.
But, for the time being, I intend to continue my duties at Westminster.
I have an apartment there where we may live, but I also have lands in Wiltshire given to me by Richard. ”
Lyssa cocked her head curiously. “I-I was not aware.”
He nodded. “I told your aunt, but I suppose I’ve not yet had the opportunity to tell you.
I hold Ravendark Castle near Salisbury along with the titles of Lord Ravendark and Lockerley.
You, my lady, shall be Lady Lockerley when we are married.
You will be a woman of standing and of wealth.
No woman has deserved such a thing more. ”
She smiled at his flattery. “I-I would marry you with only the clothes you are wearing,” she said. “T-Titles and wealth are of little matter to me. A-As long as I have you, that is all I am concerned with.”