Chapter Thirteen #4
Did she love him? Of course she did. She couldn’t remember when she hadn’t.
But in her world, speaking of things like love and emotion simply weren’t done.
No one had ever loved her, and she’d never loved anyone, not even her grandmother.
It was difficult to grow attached to an old woman who was bitter and never had a kind word.
Elle had spent many years trying to please someone who would never be pleased.
Could she speak of love to her? Of course not.
Could she speak of love to Curtis?
What if the feeling wasn’t mutual?
He was sweet to her. So very sweet. He called her “love” and “my love” from time to time, but she was sure it was simply a term of endearment and nothing more.
If he truly loved her, why hadn’t he simply come out and told her?
Nay, she couldn’t risk telling the man she loved him only to be rejected in turn.
It was enough that they smiled at one another, that he would kiss her hard and often, and that they laughed together a good deal.
That was the strange part. She’d spent a lifetime hardly laughing because there was nothing to laugh about, but with Curtis, smiles and laughter came so easily.
The man who had once been her enemy.
Now, he was her whole world.
The town of Rhayader came into view shortly, an idyllic little village surrounded by gently rolling hills.
They passed through the outskirts, and the children, recognizing the de Lohr carriage because they’d seen it come to town the past few weeks, began to run alongside, begging for coins.
The closer they drew to the town center, the more children joined in, until there was quite a pack following them.
Elle looked to Curtis, smiling, and he took the hint.
He always carried a sack of silver pennies with him, a smaller and less valuable denomination than the larger silver or gold coins.
Digging into a purse that was fastened to his saddle on the inside of his left thigh, he came away with a small handful of the pennies and tossed them onto the side of the road.
A cheer went up from the children as they rushed to the scattering of silver coins very excitedly, and Elle and Melusine watched with smiles on their faces.
The area they were in was fairly rural and poor except for a few bustling businesses in the heart of the village.
It was one of the largest villages in the Welsh midlands, surrounded by farmland and mountains to the north.
In the winter, it was cold and snowy here, and in the summer, it was green and mild.
The escort from Brython was heading to the heart of the village, where there was a big stone well in the center and a pool from which women would draw water.
There was also a big stone cross on one end of the pool signifying St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children and merchants, among others.
Curtis brought the escort into the center of the village and called a halt, putting Asa in command of the men.
Douglas, Andrew, and Westley immediately begged to go to the stall of a woman who sold sweets, and also to the alley where the blacksmiths plied their trade, and Curtis sent them off with a stern warning to behave themselves.
As they rushed off, he went to remove Elle and Melusine from the carriage.
Once Elle stepped out of the fortified cab, she began to sniff the air.
“Smell it?” she said. “Fresh bread. And pie. I smell pies.”
Curtis knew what that meant. They had to find food.
He was rather surprised, because Elle hadn’t been feeling well lately, not too inclined to eat like she usually did, but he would happily take her where she wanted to go.
Melusine didn’t particularly want to go along because Asa was staying with the men, so Curtis took his wife’s hand and led her away, following the smells of the bakers.
Elle held his big hand with both of hers as they crossed the square toward the bakers’ alley.
“Well?” Curtis said. “What will it be today? More bread? Mayhap the meat pies?”
Elle nodded. “All of that, please.”
He grinned. “What else?” he said. “What about the woman who makes those little cakes you like with the honey and cloves?”
“Those, too,” she said. “Though I am going to have to stop eating so much. My clothes will not fit me if I do not stop.”
He looked at her, noting her curvy figure with generous hips, slender waist, and full breasts. “Lass, you do not have to stop eating,” he said seductively. “I like you just the way you are, and you know it.”
She looked at him, knowing exactly what was on his mind.
It was on it every day, and when they retired every evening, he let her know just how much he loved the body she had developed.
But it went both ways—she’d learned to crave him as well, even catching him out in a lesser-known outbuilding once and initiating what had been quite a passionate rendezvous.
He still talked about it. But as he waggled his eyebrows at her, she put her fingers to his lips to silence him.
“Hush,” she said, looking around. “You’ll not titillate me when there’s nothing we can do about it.”
He laughed low. “Apologies,” he said. “But the truth is that I cannot help it.”
“You’d better help it or you’ll make us both miserable.”
“Why?”
“Because we cannot do anything about it.”
He shrugged. “True,” he said. “But speaking of miserable, are you feeling better this morning?”
She shrugged. “A little,” she said. “I do not know why I’ve not been feeling well the past few days, but I feel better today. I’ll feel even better once I’ve eaten.”
“You still do not think that I need to summon a physic?”
“For what?” she asked as if it was a ridiculous suggestion. “There is nothing wrong with me. It would be a waste of money.”
He simply squeezed her hand, looking ahead to the bakers’ alley.
There were four bakers on a small courtyard and two enormous ovens between them, going at full speed this morning.
Smoke from the oven fires was blasting into the sky as the bakers worked the ovens and their stalls.
Elle knew which stall she wanted, and she headed off to her right, straight into a stall where a husband and wife made braided bread with milk and honey, tarts with quince or raisins, and little cakes with oats and apples and cinnamon. Those were her favorite.
And the bakers knew it. They saw her coming in and were already pulling out the honey bread and the oatcakes.
They put everything into a basket for her, and she took it gleefully while Curtis paid them well.
When she wouldn’t share with him, the husband gave Curtis one of the oatcakes, and he took it appreciatively.
He followed Elle out into the courtyard, where there were benches beneath an enormous yew tree, and as she sat down, he shoved the oatcake into his mouth for fear he would have to hand it over to her when she realized he had it.
“What more do you wish, my love?” he asked, mouth full. “I can see if the baker on the corner has any baked eggs left.”
Elle was already tearing into the honey bread. “I would like that,” she said, shoving the soft inside of the bread into her mouth. “Is it wicked of me not to want to share this with Melly?”
“Nay, it is not wicked.”
“She can procure her own, can’t she?”
“She can,” he said. “Asa can buy it for her. Moreover, you do not even share with me. If you feel wicked about something, let it be about that.”
She gave him a naughty little grin, one that had him smiling back.
He swallowed the bite in his mouth, patting her on the head as he headed in the direction of the baker who sometimes had baked eggs with cream and cheese.
He didn’t do it often, so Curtis didn’t have high hopes as he entered the stall.
He asked the man about the eggs and was delighted to be told that there was some left.
Curtis purchased all of it, wolfing down about half before his wife saw it because once she had it in her hands, the chances of him getting anything were slim.
As he’d said, she wasn’t apt to share.
Therefore, he was trying not to look like he was licking his lips when he brought the eggs back to her.
The branches above were blowing gently in the breeze as he handed her the eggs, set in a bowl made of dried, woven grass.
Elle was thrilled for the eggs and began eating them with gusto as Curtis looked around to the other bakers to see what they had to offer.
One baker seemed to have two pieces of bread, very large pieces, with some kind of meat in between them.
He turned to Elle to ask if she wanted some of it, only to see that she had vomited on the tree trunk.
Quickly, he picked up the bread and the remaining eggs from her lap as she struggled not to vomit again.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said, brushing tendrils of hair away from her face so she wouldn’t soil them. “What happened?”
Elle had the back of her hand to her mouth, eyes closed as she struggled not to vomit again. “I do not know,” she said breathlessly. “I thought if I ate, I would feel better. Everything was fine, and then… it just came back up.”
Curtis was sympathetic, grasping her arm and helping her to stand so she wouldn’t get any vomit on her skirt. “That settles it,” he said. “I’m going to find a physic. Is there one in the village?”
She nodded weakly. “The apothecary is also the physic,” she said. “Mayhap… mayhap he has a potion to help. I suppose I am not beyond seeking something to settle my stomach.”
“We shall go and see him.”
Elle was upset about the wasted food. “Look at this mess,” she said sadly. “I must have eaten something that had gone bad and not realized it. Now, the poison will not leave me. It is the only explanation.”
Curtis had his arm around her as he walked her out of the courtyard. “That is probably all it is.”