Chapter Seven #2
Elle’s head came up from where she’d been tying her shoes, and, for a moment, they simply stared at one another.
In the light of day, and cleaned of the battle grime from the day before, Curtis looked like a younger, fresher version of the man she’d originally met.
It looked as if he had bathed, too. He was wearing heavy linen breeches, boots, and a linen tunic, but nothing more than that.
No mail, no weapons, no de Lohr blue and yellow tunic.
The sight of him was a distinct shock to Elle. If she thought the man handsome when they’d first met, he appeared positively godly at the moment. Quickly, she stood up to face him.
“I awoke and you were not here,” she said, sounding nervous. “I hope that you are not angry that I have dressed in the clothing from last night. I have nothing else to wear, as I cannot seem to find the clothing I wore yesterday.”
“That is because I had it burned,” he said, his voice deep and quiet. “I cannot stand that smell.”
Elle wasn’t sure if she should be insulted by that, but she figured if he really meant to offend her, he would have been more obvious about it. The man didn’t seem to be one who beat around the bush.
“It was probably for the best,” she said. “But, as I said, I really had nothing else, so until I can earn money and pay for more clothing, I hope you do not mind that I wear what you have provided.”
He frowned. “My lady, after our conversation yesterday, I thought I was clear in what our future together is,” he said. “That means that you do not have to earn any money. I will supply you with whatever you need. Can you sew?”
Her cheeks turned shades of red as she averted her gaze. “Nay,” she said. “I never learned.”
Curtis could see that he’d embarrassed her. “It is of little concern,” he said. “I am certain there are local seamstresses. We can find one and have her make you some clothing. Meanwhile, those dresses that belonged to my mother have now become yours. How does this one fit?”
She looked down at the blue garment. “Well enough… I think,” she said. “But there are ties in the back that I cannot reach. Is there a woman who can help me?”
He moved toward her. “Turn around,” he said, reaching out to grasp her arm and turn her when she didn’t move fast enough. He could immediately see what she meant. “I’m afraid I’ll have to do. We do not have any women servants with the army.”
Elle was wearing the shift, so her skin wasn’t exposed, but she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him so close to her. “I do not wish to be any trouble,” she said. “This is a menial task beneath you, my lord.”
His reply was to tie each tie very tightly, one at a time. He did the first one easily, but he pulled too hard on the second one, nearly yanking her into him. She caught her balance and leaned away from him, trying to prepare herself for another yank, and Curtis fought off a grin.
Truth be told, he wasn’t at all adverse to standing this close to her.
The difference in the woman from yesterday to this morning was like day to night.
Yesterday, she’d been filthy and combative, but the bath last night had shown him how well she could shine up with a little soap and water.
And when he’d just entered the tent now, he was momentarily speechless at what he saw before him.
She was in the blue dress that brought out the color in her magnificent eyes, and her hair was in two braids, which was incredibly charming.
If he’d simply seen her in the street passing by him and had no idea who she was, he would have definitely taken a second look.
Enid Avrielle ferch Gwenwynwyn was an unusual, and exquisite, beauty.
Against his better judgment and everything he stood for as a career knight with no distractions, he could feel himself becoming intrigued with her.
Interested, even. But that was solely based on her beauty.
Her manner would tell the true tale of whether or not he could be attracted to her on a deeper level.
There was a part of him that was hoping it was possible.
“There,” he said, finishing with the last one. “I tried to pull it as tight as I could so it would fit better. My mother is a little rounder than you are.”
Elle took a step away from him as she smoothed the dress, seeing that it did indeed fit better now. “It fits quite well,” she said. “I think so, anyway. I’ve never had a garment like this before.”
He looked her over. “You were made for a garment like that,” he said. “A woman of your beauty should not be wearing tunics and hose. This is what you were born for.”
She looked at him sharply, her cheeks turning a darker shade of red. “If I were a finer lady born to a fine and wealthy family, that would be true,” she said. “But I am neither of those things. My clothing suited me.”
His smile faded. “I have offended you,” he said. “I did not mean to. I simply meant to praise your beauty.”
She was vastly uncomfortable. “I would ask that you don’t,” she said. “It… it means nothing to me.”
Curtis nodded but didn’t reply, at least not right away.
He was quickly coming to see that flattery was unwelcome, and after their conversations yesterday, he understood why.
Perhaps the surprise of seeing her clean and lovely had pushed him into easy praise, but she wasn’t shy in reminding him that it wasn’t something she wanted to hear.
And he was sorry.
“I hope you are at least comfortable in the garment,” he said. “The truth is that I did not come here to tie dresses or spew unwelcome flattery. Last night, we found a woman hiding who told us that she was your cousin. Do you have a cousin here at Brython?”
Elle’s eyes widened. “Melusine?” she gasped. “I do! Is she well?”
Curtis wanted to hear confirmation by name, and now he had it. “She is,” he said. “She and your brother slept in another tent last night, but I will have her sent to you if that pleases you.”
Elle was nodding before he even finished. “Aye,” she said. “Please.”
He went back to the flap and summoned a soldier, sending the man with a message for his father.
He also summoned someone else, and Westley burst through the tent flap, eager to do his brother’s bidding.
Curtis indicated for the lad to clean up the tent a little, and the young man went to work, picking up and tidying up as Elle stood back and watched him.
As Curtis went back over to his table and began to busy himself with a few things, the squire summoned a few soldiers, and soon, the tent was swarming with them, removing the bathing pot and the remains of the meal.
Elle realized she was unnerved with so many English soldiers close to her. As the men moved about, she backed into the side of the tent, as far away from them as she could go. She was unaware that Curtis was watching her, and, realizing she was becoming frightened, he went to stand next to her.
“I’ve not yet introduced you to my squire,” he said, snapping his fingers at Westley, who rushed to his side.
“This is my youngest brother, Westley, who happens to be my squire. But do not let his youth fool you—he is a very competent warrior, even if he is at the age where he is so annoying that I want to toss him over a cliff. West, this is Lady Elle ferch Gwenwynwyn. She is a princess of Powys and will be afforded all due respect.”
Westley bowed politely to her. “My lady,” he said. “It is an honor.”
Elle wasn’t sure how to respond, for two good reasons—the first was that she wasn’t used to being around men who were so mannerly.
The second was that she wasn’t used to being referred to as a princess of Powys, true though it might be.
Being around Curtis elevated her from a woman ignored by her family to a woman whose noble blood was acknowledged and respected.
She’d never been trained in the art of conversation, or in being polite when introduced, or anything of that sort.
She felt uncomfortable and embarrassed, so much so that all she could do was nod unsteadily to the squire.
It was all quite strange to her.
Curtis must have sensed it. With a slight nod of his head, he sent Westley away, thinking it might relax Elle a little, but she still looked uncertain. Cagey, even. He sought to ease her.
“He will not bite you, I promise,” he said quietly. “West is a good lad. You need not fear him.”
She shook her head, perhaps a little too quickly. “I do not fear him,” she said. “It’s simply that… You said he was your youngest brother?”
“I have five.”
“And… and you like them all?”
Curtis’ eyes glimmered with warmth. “I love my brothers dearly,” he said. “I would kill or die for any one of them, a thousand times over.”
She stared at him a moment before sighing heavily. “I do not know how that feels,” she admitted. “I have one brother, and we have always been at odds. And your father… It is clear that you love and respect him.”
“I do.”
Elle could feel her eyes sting with tears, and she had no idea why, but she turned away from Curtis, pondering a world in which a family actually loved one another.
“I do not even understand how that would be,” she said before she could stop herself.
Tears filled her eyes. “My father hated me, and I hated him. I hate my brother. No one loves me except Melusine, and that is because she has no one else either. Is there really a world in which a family is truly a family and everyone gets on with everyone else?”
Curtis could hear the pain in her voice, and it touched him. She was giving him some insight into a woman who was quite an enigma so far. “There is indeed a world where that is not only possible, but probable,” he said. “I live in that world. You are to be part of it, too.”
She looked at him sharply, quickly wiping away the tears that were starting to fall. “They will not love me,” she said defensively. “I am the enemy. I am a symbol of something they’ve spent their lives fighting against.”