Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

“T his belongs to de Lara?” Tiberius asked as they came upon the compact manor house, the windows emitting a glowing light in the dark of night. “This hardly looks like a property for the great marcher lords.”

Maximus’ gaze moved over the house. Surrounded by a wall that was part timber and part stone, the house itself was oddly shaped and rather small. There was a two-storied structure that he could see and then another single-storied wing that attached to it. He pulled his black and white Spanish Jennet to a halt and the knights around him followed suit. He and Tiberius sat a moment, looking at the distant structure, the only point of light and shelter in miles of darkened landscape.

“This has to be it,” Maximus finally said. “The priest on the south side of Oxford said he knew the house and directed us down this road. There is nothing else but this house, so this has to be it.”

Tiberius shrugged. He was hungry and somewhat irritable, so he spurred his big, brown warmblood forward.

“Come on, then,” he said. “I am famished. I must eat before I collapse. But from the looks of that place, I don’t suppose they will provide us more than a crust of bread and the dregs of the wine.”

Maximus and the knights followed, loping down the road and closing the distance between them and the manor house. As they drew closer, the structure seemed to become somewhat bigger, but certainly not what they had expected from a great marcher lord. It was run-down and the walls seemed hardly enough to hold back an army of children, much less men with wicked intentions. The gate itself was very large and seemed to be made strictly of wide, hammered, iron strips that were held together with big, iron bolts. One could see right through the slats into the yard beyond, which would have been a horrible feature in the event of an attack. Arrows, arms, and weapons could come right through the gaps at the inhabitants inside.

Maximus and Tiberius dismounted their horses and approached the odd gate, looking inquisitively at the gathering of men beyond. There were a couple of fires and men milling about, tending horses or sitting by the fire mending clothes or weapons. It was all quite casual, as if they hadn’t a care in the word. No sentries on duty, no guards. Tiberius and Maximus looked at each other curiously, shrugged, and then Maximus called out to the men.

“Greetings,” he bellowed in the loud, deep voice that Maximus was so capable of. “I am de Shera. I have come at the invitation of Kellen de Lara.”

Every man in the ward looked over at the gate as Maximus’ voice echoed off the buildings. A few of the men even stood up, as if a challenge had been issued. Clearly, Maximus’ voice was loud enough that it could be startling and he always sounded as if he were bellowing commands in battle. It was just his nature. But one of the men broke off from the group, a big, blond devil, and headed to the gate at a clipped pace. As he approached, he lifted a hand in greeting.

“Lord de Lara is expecting you,” he said. “You will leave your weapons at the gate.”

Maximus’ expression was steely. “I will leave them inside the gate and not outside.”

The man didn’t reply other than to throw the big, iron bolts on the gate and yank it open. Creaking and groaning, the gate slowly opened as the man heaved.

Not wanting to seem as if they were trying to bust into the ward, Maximus didn’t help the man as he struggled with the very big, very heavy gate. Finally, he opened it enough so that men were able to pass through, and Maximus and Tiberius did, followed by their knights. But once they were all inside the gate, they immediately began removing weapons.

“You will place someone to guard our possessions and weapons,” Maximus instructed de Lara’s man. “I do not want to return to find things missing.”

De Lara’s knight whistled sharply between his teeth and two men came away from the group in the ward, making their way over. The knight issued a few orders to the pair before returning his focus to Maximus.

“My name is St. Héver,” the knight said. “I am Lord de Lara’s second.”

Maximus cocked an eyebrow. “The house of St. Héver?”

“Aye.”

“I have heard of it.”

The big knight dipped his head politely. “I am honored, my lord.”

Maximus eyed the knight. He’d seen this man, too. He was a fighting man, a knight on the front lines, and Maximus remembered hearing somewhere that Kirk St. Héver was a fearsome fighter. He certainly seemed big and professional enough. After a moment of scrutinizing St. Héver, Maximus began to look around at the manor complex.

“Where is de Lara?” he asked. “Surely he was expecting me sooner than this. We were delayed when one of the horses came up lame and we had to return to the livery for another.”

Kirk pointed to the long, single-storied building behind them by several dozen yards. It was at the far end of the ward.

“He is in the hall,” he replied. “You may go to him.”

Maximus pushed past the knight, heading towards the building indicated. He and his men had to pass by de Lara’s men as they went and there were looks bordering on hostility as they passed. Maximus ignored them but Tiberius went so far as to sneer at a pair of young knights who were posturing angrily. He leaned into his brother’s ear.

“Why are these men so hostile?” he hissed. “Have we unknowingly offended them?”

Maximus didn’t know and he surely didn’t care. “Idiots,” he replied under his breath. “De Lara had better have a good meal to make up for the bad manners of his men.”

Tiberius glanced over at the host of unfriendly faces. “We are allied with de Lara, are we not?”

“Both de Lara and I support de Montfort, so we are, in theory.”

“I do not think his men know that.”

Maximus wouldn’t give a second thought to the soldiers who were watching him and his party trudge across the bailey towards the hall. While the bailey itself smelled of men and animals, of urine and animal dung, they were catching wafts of smells that were emerging from the hall and the scents upon the air were most appealing. He could most definitely smell bread and he thought he even smelled meat.

He was famished, that was true, but his stomach seemed to be nervous for other reasons. Every time he thought of that phial of rose oil in his tunic, that secret precious bottle, thoughts of the lovely Courtly filled his mind and he realized that he was anxious to see her again. Fearful, even. He wondered if she had only been kind to him at their first meeting earlier that day because he saved her life.

Self-doubt clutched at him as he patted the rose oil, wondering if he had acted too hastily in purchasing it. What if her smiles and pleasant conversation had only been out of gratitude and nothing more? Maximus wasn’t in the habit of being attracted to women on a daily basis, so when he was attracted to one, it meant something to him. Certainly, other knights took whores or wives. Tiberius had a glut of women who lived or died by his smile and Gallus was now married, but Maximus had always been a warrior’s warrior. He was a knight, a fighter, and that was what filled his time– thoughts and practice of how he could better himself as a warrior. His time had never been filled with the opposite sex. Until now. He secretly hoped that was about to change.

Entering the arched doorway that opened into Kennington’s hall, he was met with a rather small and narrow common room with a dramatically arched ceiling constructed of big timbers. Immediately to his left was an alcove with a feasting table, evidently meant for the lord of Kennington and his family, and then there were two long, feasting tables, side by side, in the room. Instead of a hearth, there was a fire pit at one end of the room and the pitched roof had holes in it so that smoke could escape. The fire was lit and the room was quite warm, and quite pleasant, as Maximus and his men moved into the hall.

“Sir Maximus!”

The call came from the end of the hall with the fire pit and Maximus saw Kellen emerging from a small door. Dogs trailed after him as he headed in Maximus’ direction, his expression far more pleasant than the expressions his men had presented outside.

“You have arrived,” Kellen said, somewhat happily. “I am glad you could come. We have been looking forward to supping with you this eve. And you have brought your men?”

Maximus nodded, indicating the men to his right. “I do not believe you have met my brother, Tiberius,” he said, indicating the tall, dark-haired brother. “And these are my knights, the de Wolfe brothers, de Moray, and du Bois.”

Kellen’s smile faded somewhat as he looked at the collection of knights. “De Wolfe?” he repeated. “William de Wolfe?”

Scott nodded. “Indeed, my lord,” he said. “He is our father.”

Kellen was visibly impressed. “Then the honor is mine to have the sons of the illustrious Wolfe under my roof,” he said. Then, he indicated the tables. “Please sit. Food shall be brought about shortly.”

Maximus and his men moved to the closest table. There was a wooden tray that had a pile of what looked to be some kind of dense, cream-colored bread upon it. That was where the heavy smell of bread was coming from. As Maximus took a seat, Tiberius reached out and took a hot piece of the bread, sniffing at it.

“What manner of bread is this?” Tiberius asked, biting into it. It was puffy, rather dense, and had an abundance of salt in it and on top of it. “It is delicious.”

With that, the other knights grabbed at it, taking hunks for themselves. Kellen sat opposite Maximus and next to Troy de Wolfe. He seemed rather confused by the question.

“It is… truthfully, I am not sure,” he said. “I will have to ask my daughter.”

Maximus peered at the plate of bread. “Did she instruct the servants to bake it thusly?”

Kellen appeared uncomfortable in the slightest. “She created the recipe,” he said, avoiding the question. He didn’t want de Shera to know that his daughter had been working like a slave in the kitchen for the past two hours because Ellice was hiding most of the servants from him. The man didn’t need to know his family’s problems and, frankly, he was embarrassed by it. “Courtly fostered at Prudhoe Castle in the north and the lady of the castle was evidently quite adept in cookery. She learned in France and passed her knowledge along to my daughter. Therefore, my daughter is skilled in the art of fine cookery. You will be sampling it tonight.”

That seemed to impress Maximus. “Where is your daughter?” he asked, looking around the room. “Will she join us?”

Kellen’s discomfort grew. “She will, eventually,” he said, trying to be delicate on how he explained things. “There was some trouble with the servants this evening and she is in the kitchen at the moment, overseeing things. But she will join us at some point.”

Maximus watched Kellen as the man fidgeted a bit and had difficulty meeting his eye. He wondered why. Reaching out, he took a piece of the flat bread and bit into it. Tiberius had been correct. It was quite delicious.

“How are your daughters after their experience today?” he asked, chewing. “I hope they suffered no ill effects.”

Kellen shook his head. “Fortunately not,” he replied. “But all of their clothing and possessions were burned, so I will apologize in advance that neither one has had the opportunity to change into more appropriate clothing. Until I can secure a seamstress or material for them, they are forced to make do.”

Maximus finished one piece of bread and reached for another. “That is very unfortunate,” he said. “Had I known, I would have brought material with me. I would assume your daughters can sew.”

Kellen nodded. “They can,” he said. “Courtly can, anyway. Isadora does not have much interest in it.”

“Oh?” Maximus said. “Why not?”

Before Kellen could reply, Isadora emerged from the small doorway on the other side of the fire pit, a pitcher in one hand and several small wooden cups in the other. She was trying to be very careful about not dropping anything and when Maximus saw her, he jumped up and went to her.

“Here, lady,” he said, taking the pitcher. “Allow me to help you. I fear the pitcher is much too heavy for you.”

Isadora gazed up at the man who had a hand in saving her young life. She hadn’t a chance to speak with him at all earlier, as Courtly had seemed to do all of the talking for them, so she was a bit shy to speak with him, and his chivalrous gesture had her cheeks flushing.

“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 Jes?, 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 Jes? , 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.

“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.