Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
S he is an angel.
That was what Maximus was thinking as he walked down the avenue with Courtly on his arm. He had returned to the bath house promptly an hour later, with a good deal of food, only to be met in the reception room by the most Godly angel he had ever laid eyes on. Dressed in a gown the color of amber, it was silky, simply cut, and emphasized everything good about her. She looked absolutely magnificent.
And she smelled strongly of lemon and lavender. It was exhilarating. With her clean hair, braided and styled, and a scrubbed face, Maximus knew, at that moment, that he had passed beyond simple infatuation with the woman. He was entering a realm he’d never before entered, something deeper and more meaningful. But it scared him, and thrilled him, so much to think about it, that he wouldn’t verbalize it, even to himself. He simply settled down to enjoy the view.
So he took her in one hand and her possessions in the other, and went outside to find a place to eat the food he had brought. Somewhere down towards the big square where the church was located, he found a small garden between buildings that had a bench made from rough-hewn logs. Putting their meal of bread, fried pork, and little pies made from meat and raisins onto the bench, he set Courtly down beside it and they both plowed into the food, starving.
“A lovely meal, Maximus,” Courtly said after swallowing her first gratifying bite. “Are you fond of fried pork, then? Some people do not like it because it is dry and crispy.”
Standing over Courtly, Maximus had a mouthful. “I adore it,” he said, chewing. “My mother, much like you, learned the art of cooking. When I was very young, she would have the cook fry pork skin in lard and it would puff up, crispy and delicious. She would make other things, too.”
Courtly was shoving the soft center of the bread into her mouth, being careful not to get crumbs on her dress. “Like what?” she asked curiously.
Maximus thought as he chewed the pork. “Well,” he said reluctantly, eyeing her as he chewed. “I will not tell you unless you promise not to laugh at me.”
Already, Courtly was grinning but she fought it. “I swear.”
“Swear again.”
“I do,” she said sincerely. “A million times, I do.”
That was good enough for him and he shoved another piece of pork into his mouth. “As I said, my mother has collected many recipes over the years,” he said. “My older brother has a favorite– Cheese pie. My mother would make it for him quite a lot. As for me, I too had a favorite dish– a tart that she would call ‘Maxi’s Tart’. I do not even know if it has a real name because she always called it my tart, but it is onions boiled in beef broth and then mixed with butter, salt, cheese, raisins, and spices. It is baked in a crust and is absolutely delicious.”
Courtly went back on her promise and grinned at him. “It sounds wonderful,” she said. “Mayhap your mother will give me the recipe if I ask her.”
Maximus’ good humor took a hit. “That would be very difficult,” he said, his tone considerably softer. “She has been quite ill for the past month. She does not seem to awaken any longer. She simply sleeps.”
Courtly sobered dramatically. “Oh, Max,” she breathed softly. “I am so very sorry to hear that. Where is she?”
“At Isenhall Castle, my brother’s seat.”
Courtly’s brow furrowed as she thought of Maximus’ mother dying without her sons around her. “Then why are you here?” she asked, though not unkindly. “I should think that if my father was ill, I would want to be by his side every moment.”
Maximus nodded, sadly and wearily. “I am here because in my mother’s brief moments of consciousness,” he said, “she dictated that the good of the country was more important than sitting around, waiting for her to die. We had to come to Oxford after that. You see, my mother is not someone to be crossed. Had we not come to Oxford, I promise that she would have risen out of her deathbed to box our ears. But it was not an easy decision, I assure you.”
Courtly was sad on his behalf. Speaking of his mother seemed to dampen his good humor significantly and for that she was sorry. Reaching out, she grasped his wrist, squeezing gently.
“I am truly sorry,” she said. “I am sorry that you felt you had to come to Oxford rather than be with your mother. Will you be able to see her soon, I wonder?”
Maximus felt her flesh against his like a searing brand. Her hand was soft and heated. He took it in his hand and lowered his big body onto an uprooted stump next to her. Still, he held her hand, gazing into her beautiful eyes.
“When I go home, I want you to go with me,” he said, quite impulsively. “I will speak with your father today when I return you to Kennington. I want him to understand that I will marry you right away. I… I cannot explain myself any more than that. This is not impetuous or foolish, Courtly. I do not give my feelings away easily, but I know what I want. What I want is you.”
Courtly couldn’t help the smile of genuine elation that crossed her features. “My heart is overjoyed,” she exclaimed. “I know that others would think you very hasty, but I do not. When you feel something very strongly, then it is the right decision for you.”
“Then you agree?”
Courtly gazed into the face of the man she knew she would marry. It was nearly too much happiness for her to digest. Was it really true? Was all of this truly happening? It seemed as if she were living a dream.
“I do,” she murmured. “Indeed, I do.”
“Then tell me how to approach your father. If he does not agree, I shall take you anyway, so it is best if he agrees. How can I accomplish this?”
It was a complicated question, coming from a man who was unused to being denied his wants or wishes. She lowered her gaze, watching his big, rough hand as it toyed with her fingers. There was something so incredibly warm and safe about his touch, yet she knew they were hands that had killed. Everyone knew of Maximus de Shera and his reputation for being a ruthless battle lord. The Thunder Warrior , he was called. But at the moment, those hands were nothing short of tender. She must have been looking at him rather strangely because Maximus smiled when she didn’t answer him right away.
“What is it?” he asked. “Why do you look at me so?”
Embarrassed that she had been caught daydreaming, Courtly grinned. “I am sorry,” she said. “I do not mean to stare at you. But it was only this time yesterday when we met and now, already, you speak of marriage. I must say that when you make a decision, you move swiftly with it. But what about your family? Mustn’t your brother and mother give permission? You are a great lord, Maximus. Surely there are protocols you must go through.”
Maximus continued to caress her fingers even as he ate more fried pork. “Although my brother is the Earl of Coventry, I am a lord in my own right,” he said, chewing. “I am Baron Allesley, a title I inherited from my father. I have lands far to the north near Chester with two smaller, manor homes and a small castle that is manned by de Shera men as a garrison against the Welsh. The land is very rich, the soil good, so the crops are always plentiful. Moreover, the castle guards a road leading in and out of Wales, and tolls are taken. I have a very good income from my lands and will be able to provide extremely well for you, as my wife. As for me needing permission from my brother, I supposed that I do, but he will do whatever I want him to do. If I tell him I am to marry you, he will have no objections.”
Courtly was rather surprised to hear all of this, although in hindsight, she should not have been. She knew the de Sheras were powerful. But she also knew that a title and lands would not overly persuade her father to give his permission to a marriage. In fact, she was fairly certain the title of Lord Allesley wouldn’t impress Kellen one bit.
“If you say that is true, then I will believe you,” she said, “but I fear that my father will not think it so simple.”
Maximus took a drink out of the wine bottle he had brought along. “And why not?” he asked. “I have everything he could possibly want in a good husband for his daughter.”
Courtly nodded, sighing as she set down her food. She found she wasn’t particularly hungry any longer, thinking about her father and how he would surely reject Maximus’ offer of marriage. Knowing her father as she did, it was a given.
“You would make any woman a fine and honorable husband,” she said, forcing a smile. “You are perfect in every way. But my father… I am not entirely sure what drives him but, as I told you, he has chased away every suitor I have ever had. Earlier today, I discovered that he has done the same thing to his sister, which is why she is a spinster. Or, at least, she blames my father for her state. I had no idea he had done that to her but I suppose I should have guessed something like that was amiss. My father and his sister cannot stand the sight of one another and surely there is a great reason behind that. Hatred such as that is not innate.”
Maximus took another drink of wine and squeezed her hand before releasing it, picking through the food he had brought and offering her something small, baked, and pie-shaped.
“Here,” he said. “It is custard. Surely you have not finished eating yet.”
Courtly shook her head, took the custard, but didn’t bite into it. She noticed that Maximus had not replied to her statement. As he rummaged around for more little custard pies, she spoke.
“Please tell me your thoughts, Maximus” she said. “If you have changed your mind, I do not blame you.”
He looked at her, frowning. “Why do you keep saying that?” he asked. “I have not changed my mind. I will never change my mind, so you can put your fears to rest. I am simply thinking on how to approach your father with all of this. You have given me a good deal to think on.”
Courtly pondered the situation, watching him down two small, custard pies. She took a tiny bite of hers. “Do you want my suggestion?”
He nodded. “I asked you, did I not?”
Courtly sighed faintly and set her custard pie down onto the bench beside her. “Send your brother and his wife to ask on your behalf,” she said. “My father both respects and fears Gallus de Shera. He is greatly impressed with the man. If your brother will plead on your behalf, my father may consider it. Truly, with the earl making the approach, he may have little choice in the matter.”
Maximus looked at her, seriously. “I would be a poor man indeed if I sent my brother in to plead for your hand on my behalf,” he said. “I am not afraid of your father. If I do not ask for your hand directly, what manner of respect do you think he will have for me? Nay, love, I will not hide behind my brother, although I understand your position on the matter. When I offer for your hand, it will be directly to your father.”
She smiled at him. “My apologies,” she said softly. “I did not mean to ask you to be any less than you are. I simply meant to suggest a way in which my father could surely not refuse.”
Maximus reached out again and took her hand, holding it tightly in his big mitt. “I know,” he assured her quietly. “But this is between me and your father. Now, eliminating my brother as an intermediary, how else would you suggest I approach him?”
Courtly thought on that. “As you said,” she replied. “Approach him directly and forcefully. Be firm but polite. My father respects strong men, of which you are clearly one, so the best way to handle him is to be stronger than he is. It is my suggestion you tell him what your intentions are rather than ask him. If you simply ask him, I can promise you he will deny you.”
Maximus lifted his eyebrows in thought. “Then I will not give him the opportunity,” he said. “But if he denies me, then I hope you will like living on the run, because that is what we shall do.”
Courtly giggled until she realized he was serious by the expression on his face. Then, she was rather stricken. “But… but you cannot do that,” she said, somewhat passionately. “What of your family? It will reflect poorly on them. And what about you? You have a great reputation, Maximus. You cannot ruin that by absconding with a woman. That is no way for a man like you to live your life. You cannot throw it all away simply because you cannot have the woman you want.”
He didn’t like her reply even though he knew, deep down, that she was correct. He brushed the crumbs off his breeches, looking around to see if there was more food.
“Do you want anything else?” he asked her, utterly avoiding her statement.
Courtly could see he was putting her off. Because a man’s life was at stake, no matter how much she wanted to be his wife, she couldn’t let him ruin himself because of her.
“Maximus,” she said softly. “Listen to me. If you and I run away together and you forsake everything, eventually, you will grow to resent me. That is no way for a marriage to exist. Once it is done, it cannot be undone. Your mistake cannot be undone. I will not let you destroy the rest of your life because of me.”
He paused in the hunt for anything further to eat. When he looked at her, it was with uncertainty and sorrow.
“You would not leave your father and go with me?” he asked.
Courtly reached out and put her soft hands on his bearded face, looking him in the eye. “There is nothing I would want more than to go with you,” she whispered, touching the magnificent face of Maximus de Shera and feeling his bristly heat against her flesh. “I have known you less than a day and, already, you are under my skin. Your humor and generosity and good character has endeared itself to me. Would I go with you? Without question. But I could not have you ruin your reputation because my father denies your marriage suit. Mayhap in time, he will relent if you continue to ask him and demand he change his mind, but for us to run off without his permission… you will ruin everything you have ever worked for. It will reflect badly on your family. What would your mother say?”
He was in the process of being thoroughly hypnotized by her luscious eyes and full lips, but the moment she brought up Honey, he stiffened.
“You will not bring her into this,” he said.
Courtly didn’t back down. “Why not?”
He wanted to pull away from her but couldn’t. Those eyes had him within their grasp and there was no escape.
“Because…,” he said hoarsely. “Because she would possibly say the same thing you have just said. If my mother were of better health, I would send her to your father in my stead. My mother and no other. No one denies Honey de Shera, of anything.”
Courtly smiled gently. “I pray I have the opportunity to speak with her one day,” she whispered. “I would be deeply honored.”
Maximus smiled at her but the pull was too strong. Reaching out, he grasped her and pulled her against him, his lips slanting hungrily over hers. He could feel Courtly resist at first, startled by his action, but he wrapped his muscular arms around her and refused to let her go. She was sweet and warm and delicious, tasting like the custard she had just eaten. He could taste it on her lips. He kissed her slowly, with a purpose, experiencing her scent and taste and texture. It was intoxicating.
Maximus lost all sense of time as he gently suckled Courtly’s lips. She had stopped fighting him and was now collapsed against his chest, cradled in his arms as he feasted on her. Maximus had been with women in his lifetime, of course, losing his virginity when he was seventeen to the young women he had once described to Garran– She was the smithy’s daughter. When my father found out, he sent both her and her father away. I heard that she died later that year of a fever. Aye, that was all he really knew of love. He knew the pain of losing it before it even started.
As he nibbled on Courtly’s chin, he vowed that this love would be different. Already, it was stronger than he had ever imagined it could be. This love, he would not lose. As he began to suckle Courtly’s lips again, he heard someone clearing their throat softly.
“Maximus?”
Maximus knew the voice so he wasn’t particularly startled as he looked up from Courtly’s flushed face. Stefan du Bois was standing several feet away, looking rather embarrassed that he had been forced to intervene. Maximus, however, was consummately cool.
“Stefan,” he said evenly. “How did you find me?”
Stefan didn’t look at Courtly as she pulled herself from Maximus’ arms, her back to Stefan as she struggled to compose herself. Stefan, like any good knight, was focused on his liege.
“Lady de Shera has sent me for you,” he said. “She told me I could find you in or around the Street of the Merchants. Lady de Shera says that it is time to escort Lady Courtly back to Kennington.”
Maximus stood up, realizing that his manhood was a slightly aroused as the result of his heated kisses with Courtly, but he simply shifted his tunic under the guise of repositioning the sheath for his broadsword to cover it up. He was still reeling from their kiss, however, so much so that he was having difficulty focusing on what Stefan was saying. But he forced himself.
“Where is Lady de Shera?” he asked.
Stefan threw his thumb in the direction of The One-Eyed Raven. “She is not feeling well so we must return for her before we take the lady home,” he said. “She says that she must accompany you back to Kennington so the lady’s father will not think her irresponsible for leaving the lady alone with you.”
Maximus was already collecting Courtly’s possessions as the woman stood up, still wiping her lips, which were very red from Maximus’ bristly beard. Maximus took her by the elbow and politely escorted her to where Stefan was standing.
“Did you just come from The One-Eyed Raven?” Maximus asked the knight.
Stefan nodded. “Less than a half-hour ago.”
“Has Gallus returned from his meeting with de Montfort?”
“Not yet.”
“And Tiberius?”
“He and Garran went off together. They have not yet returned.”
Now that Maximus knew the status of his men and his brothers, he turned to look at Courtly, who smiled up at him wanly. She still wasn’t over Stefan having stumbled upon them. Maximus could see the embarrassment in her features and it made him smile. He found humor in her chaste shame. It was very charming. He extended an elbow to her.
“Shall we go, my lady?” he asked politely.
Courtly forced a smile, accepting his elbow and refusing to look at Stefan as Maximus led her past him. He headed for the livery, taking his blushing lady with him as Stefan followed behind. They had to cross a couple of busy avenues before they arrived at the livery, the yard of which was crowded by a merchant and his traveling party. Maximus simply plowed through the group, but they gave him a wide berth. Maximus was not a man to be ignored, in any case.
Inside the stable, the de Shera carriage had been removed when Jeniver had been taken back to The One-Eyed Raven. The only thing left was Maximus’ muscular jennet plus Stefan’s big, white rouncey. Maximus quickly realized that there was no transportation for Courtly so he sent Stefan to hunt down the livery owner. As Stefan went on the prowl, Maximus turned to Courtly.
“I should apologize for that unseemly display,” he said softly, a gentle smile on his lips. “I should not have lost control as I did but I could not seem to help it. Worse yet, I cannot promise that it will not happen again.”
Courtly broke into a bashful smile. “I suppose you must sample that which you intend to marry.”
Maximus laughed softly. “I must,” he agreed, sobering. “And I am pleased.”
Courtly gazed up at him. “As am I,” she whispered. “But… but I truly fear what will happen when you return me to Kennington. My father was clearly unhappy this morning when I went with Lady de Shera and I am afraid of what he will do upon my return. I suppose I am in for a row.”
Maximus’ expression grew grim. Deadly, even. “He would not hurt you, would he?”
Courtly shook her head. “Nay,” she assured him. “He would never do that. But he will be… angry.”
Maximus considered that scenario. Not that he blamed the man, to be truthful. His daughter had all but been wrested away from him. With a sigh, he gently stroked her hair as he leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead in a gesture of comfort.
“It is not your fault that we took you from Kennington,” he said. “But I understand your point. Hopefully my brother’s wife can soothe any anger your father might feel when we return you home, because angry or not, I intend to speak to him tonight.”
Courtly wasn’t entirely sure that was a good idea. When her father’s mood was foul, there was no reasoning with him. To broach a marital contract would certainly not be well-met. She wasn’t convinced that tonight would be the appropriate night for such a thing but, on the other hand, she supposed there would never be a good time for such a thing in her father’s eyes.
“Be mindful of his mood, then,” she said with a sigh. “I know you wish to speak with him sooner rather than later, but since you will not send your brother on your behalf, all I can say is that you must be mindful of his mood.”
Maximus eyed her with some amusement. “I believe I can handle the man.”
He was confident. Courtly appreciated a man with confidence, but she hoped he wasn’t in for a massive shock when her father denied him. In Maximus’ world, there was no such thing as a denial to his wishes. She could see it in his face. He had every confidence that he could convince Kellen to allow him to marry Courtly. She feared that would not be the case.
Maximus, however, also harbored those secret fears in spite of his outward appearance. The lady had fairly convinced him that his pursuit of her hand would not be an easy task and, as much as he had told her he would not send his brother in his stead, now he was starting to reconsider. If Gallus could get him what he wanted, then he was willing to consider it, but on the other hand, he was a very prideful man. He wasn’t accustomed to sending others to do his tasks. As Stefan returned with the livery owner leading a small, gray palfrey, Maximus hoped that Gallus was returned to the inn by the time he got there.
He needed the man’s counsel on a most serious matter.
*
“Max, I am glad you are here. Plans have changed and we must discuss them.”
Maximus had entered the smelly, stale inn only to run straight into his brothers, both of them. The words had come from Gallus, who had been standing next to Tiberius in quiet discussion over by one of the leaning, abused, tavern tables. But the appearance of Maximus had Gallus and Tiberius moving towards him, only to realize that on Maximus’ arm was a petite, rather beautiful woman. Both brothers came to a halt, focused on the lady.
“My lady,” Gallus greeted. “Please excuse me. I did not see you when my brother entered the room.”
Courtly smiled at the very handsome man with black hair who slightly resembled Maximus. “That would not be difficult, my lord, considering that Sir Maximus fills up the entire doorway when he enters a room,” she said, watching the brothers snort in agreement. “There is nothing to excuse, in any case.”
Gallus was smiling openly at the woman. “You must be Lady Courtly,” he said. “My wife has told me about you and has spoken quite highly of you. I am Gallus de Shera and I believe you already know my brother, Tiberius.”
Courtly dipped into a practiced curtsy. “My lords,” she greeted, noticing that the youngest de Shera brother was smiling at her quite broadly. It was almost comical. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Sir Tiberius.”
Tiberius moved to take her hand but Maximus threw out a big arm, blocking his brother. “I would not if I were you,” he threatened, eyeing Tiberius. As Tiberius shrugged, good-naturedly, Maximus returned his focus to Gallus. “What plans have changed, Gal? Can the discussion not wait? I must speak to you most urgently.”
Gallus was having a hard time keeping his attention strictly on his brother. He was mostly focusing on how tightly Maximus was holding on to the lady, which wasn’t like him at all. Gallus’ wife’s words were coming back to him now, words she had spoken that morning when Maximus had stormed off after his confrontation with Tiberius. If he truly feels something for the lady. Already, Gallus could see that it was true, astonishingly so. He’d never even considered that Maximus was capable of such a thing, although there had been a young woman in his youth that he had believed himself in love with. Still, Maximus was the last man he would ever have thought to have fallen for a woman.
“I am afraid it cannot wait,” Gallus finally said. “Jeniver is prepared to escort the lady back to her father. I will send my wife with a full escort to Kennington and you will remain here with me. We have much to discuss.”
That was not what Maximus wanted to hear. “Gal, whatever you wish to discuss is not more important than my news,” he said. “I have asked the lady to be my wife and she has agreed. But her father may prove to be a very large obstacle and I require your counsel on the matter.”
On the balcony above, where the sleeping rooms were, they heard a familiar cry. “Oh!” Jeniver was overhead, looking down at them. “Max, I heard you! What thrilling news!”
They could then hear rapid footfalls as Jeniver ran across the catwalk and took the stairs at the far end very quickly. Gallus was already moving in her direction.
“Slow yourself,” he admonished. “You will fall and break your neck.”
Jeniver, moving swiftly, waved him off. She rushed right past him and straight at Maximus, throwing her arms happily around his neck. Maximus, grinning, accepted his sister-in-law’s congratulatory hug, but Gallus was not so happy. He held out his hands as if to ease the force by which his wife was hugging.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he begged. “Max, if you squeeze her, you will have to answer to me. Do nothing!”
Maximus started to laugh, holding his arms out as if to show he wasn’t squeezing his brother’s pregnant wife. “I am not touching her, I swear it.”
By this time, Jeniver had released him and was moving to Courtly. Forgetting protocol, she hugged the woman happily.
“My heartiest congratulations,” she said, squeezing Courtly before releasing her. “This is the best possible news, my lady. Welcome to our family.”
Courtly was touched and pleased by Jeniver’s enthusiasm. “Thank you, Lady de Shera,” she said sincerely. “In truth, it has happened rather swiftly since Maximus and I have only just met, but… well, I am most pleased with his proposal of marriage.”
Jeniver was ecstatic. “Of course you are,” she said. Then, she looked between Maximus and Gallus. “I heard what you said about the lady’s father. Do you plan to approach him tonight when we return her to Kennington?”
Maximus nodded. “That is my intention,” he said. “I do not wish to wait.”
Jeniver was in full agreement as she looked at Gallus. “Absolutely not,” she said. “Gal, you will ride with us to Kennington and ask Lord de Lara on Maximus’ behalf. He cannot refuse an offer of marriage if it comes from you.”
Gallus threw up his hands. “Wait,” he commanded softly. “I cannot go to Kennington tonight. We agreed that you would return Lady Courtly. I have serious matters to discuss with my brothers and I need them both with me.”
Jeniver frowned. “Nothing is more important than a marriage, Gallus,” she said. “Your business can wait. Go with us now to Kennington and then you may discuss your business later tonight after we have settled with Lord de Lara.”
Gallus eyed his wife, displeased. He could see that she was being quite stubborn and he didn’t want to upset her, but his matters had priority over Maximus’ betrothal at the moment. Still, he could see by the expression on her face that it would be very difficult to convince her otherwise, especially in her emotional state. The pregnancy had wreaked havoc on his normally calm and sweet wife. It had made her a crazy woman at times. With this in mind, he drew in a calming breath and crooked a finger at both his wife and Maximus.
“A moment with you both, please,” he said. “Ty, please take Lady Courtly in hand. I must speak with Max and my wife, alone.”
Tiberius was more than happy to escort Courtly even though Maximus was literally growling at him. He ignored his brother and took the lady over to a table where they had wine and fruit and cheese. Meanwhile, Maximus and Jeniver went to Gallus, who pulled them to the edge of the room so they could have a bit of privacy.
“Max, I… Max, look at me ,” he said, noting that his brother’s attention was on Tiberius and Courtly. When Maximus reluctantly looked at him, he continued. “You know I had a meeting with de Montfort today. We will be leaving for London on the morrow and we must discuss plans and logistics of such a move. I do not have time to enter marital negotiations with Lord de Lara. Moreover, I am sure he has the same news that I do and will be moving to London tomorrow as well. His daughter, I would assume, will go with him. Can we not discuss marital contracts once we reach London?”
Maximus was clearly, and deeply, unhappy. “London?” he repeated. “Why are we going there? I thought de Montfort was convening a big gathering at Oxford tomorrow?”
Gallus grunted. “As I said, plans have changed,” he replied. “De Montfort received word that the king is convening his supporters next week and he wants to be there. Therefore, we move to London.”
Maximus rolled his eyes in exasperation. “That is all well and good, but it is quite possible that my business cannot wait until we go to London,” he said. “Courtly has said that her father intends to send her and her sister back to Trelystan Castle, mostly to separate Courtly from me. Evidently, he has chased away every suitor she has ever had and he did not like the fact that I paid his daughter attention at the feast last eve. It would seem that her father has an aversion to men when it comes to his daughters.”
Jeniver was listening serious as Gallus exhaled sharply, with impatience. “Max, listen to me,” he muttered. “I am very sorry to say that Kellen de Lara’s approval of your betrothal is not the most important issue we face at the moment. There is something even more critical than all of this. Because de Montfort wants us in London by next week, we cannot go home and visit Honey. We cannot spare the time to see to her.”
Maximus was distracted from Courtly and Tiberius now with the mention of his dying mother. He hissed. “Damnation,” he growled. “Can we not even spare a few days, Gal?”
Gallus shook his head. “You know I am as unhappy as you are about this, but we have no choice,” he said. “Moreover, my sorrow is deepened because I do not believe it will be safe to take my wife into London, either. It is a dangerous place at any given time and we will be spending most of our time with de Montfort and the allies, which would leave Jeniver alone a good deal of the time. It is my intention to send her back to Isenhall. I feel I have little choice. She will be safer there.”
With that, he reached out and took Jeniver’s hand, pulling her gently to him. As Gallus kissed his wife on the temple, Maximus was watching the two of them.
“Then in your sorrow from being separated from your wife, surely you can understand my desire to seek a betrothal with de Lara,” he said quietly. “You do not want to be separated from the woman you love and I… I do not want to be separated from Courtly. I must know she is mine, Gal. Can you not understand that?”
Gallus could, somewhat, but Maximus’ behavior had him frustrated. He struggled not to explode. “Of course I do,” he said with some anger. “But, Max… why you? Why now? You are my rock, my most dependable warrior. You are an immovable object, but now, suddenly, you are pleading like a childish squire, bleeding all things soft and silly about wanting a woman. How can you do this now when you know how badly de Montfort needs our focus?”
Maximus stiffened at his brother’s words. “I am allowed to be a man in all ways,” he said, struggling not to snarl in front of Jeniver. “I am allowed to have feelings for a woman. You’ve had the opportunity twice and I have not had it at all. Now, when I have found a woman I want to marry, you begrudge me the same happiness you have known? Are you truly so selfish?”
The situation was starting to get ugly and Jeniver put herself in between the two of them so they wouldn’t start throwing fists. “Max, he does not begrudge you happiness,” she said to calm the situation. “He does not mean it the way it sounds.”
Maximus was so angry that his lips were starting to turn white, tense with rage. “He means it exactly that way,” he said, both to Jeniver and to Gallus. “I will not let him ruin my chance for happiness. If her father will not allow us to marry, I have no qualms about abducting her and leaving England for good.”
Shocked, Jeniver and Gallus looked at him. “Max, you wouldn’t,” Jeniver gasped. “You would not leave us!”
Maximus opened his mouth but Gallus reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his tunic. “You are mad,” he hissed. “You do not even know what you are saying. I did not say that I would not speak with de Lara on your behalf. I simply asked you to wait. How is that destroying your chance at happiness? If the lady loves you now, she will love you next week or next year. Why is it so urgent that you marry her this instant?”
Maximus didn’t like to be grabbed, not even by his brother. Jeniver could see his fists balling and she shoved him back, smacking her husband’s hand so that he would release him. Pushing the men apart was strenuous and she was already feeling sick and weak, but she jabbed a finger at Maximus in a stunning show of strength.
“You will not fight him, do you hear?” she commanded. Then, she looked at Gallus. “And you know very well that family loyalty supersedes everything. Your loyalty is to your brother most of all. You will listen to me well, both of you. Gal, we will all take Lady Courtly back to Kennington now, whereupon you will speak with Lord de Lara about Maximus. You will get the man’s consent to a marriage this night or we will stay at Kennington until you do. Once you have his consent, Lady Courtly and I will return to Isenhall while you and Maximus go to London. Lady Courtly will be of great assistance to me, as you know I am not feeling my best as of late. We will remain with Lady Honey and your daughters until you and Maximus return from London. Maximus will then marry the lady the moment he returns. Now, will that convince both of you that the situation is not worth fighting over?”
Gallus didn’t like to see his wife so upset. Her pregnancy had been very taxing on her, and even now as she scolded them, he could see that she was rather pale. Nay, he didn’t like it at all, not one bit. He looked at his brother.
“She is right,” he mumbled. “Family is the most important thing. I did not mean to make you feel guilty for your feelings towards the lady, but you must understand that there is a great deal of pressure on me to mobilize our army and move at the head of de Montfort’s force. And you… you are my warrior. You are the knight that all men hope to be. I cannot lose you, Max. I simply cannot.”
Maximus was softened by his brother’s words and he, too, didn’t like seeing Jeniver so upset. He was feeling a great deal of remorse that he had upset her so, but mostly, he was fixed on what she had said.
“I know,” he said after a moment. “You will not lose me. But I need your help, Gal. Lady Courtly says that her father has chased away every suitor she has ever had and I do not want him to chase me away. I have a feeling I cannot intimidate him into agreeing to my demands. Therefore, I need your help. Badly.”
Gallus relented, mostly because he knew he had no choice. He looked at his wife. “Very well, sweetheart,” he said. “We will go to Kennington now and open negotiations on behalf of Max. I suspect I should just turn you loose on de Lara because we shall have his agreement much sooner.”
Jeniver grinned, relieved that Gallus and Maximus were no longer fighting. “I would not be opposed to that,” she said, although she was seriously thinking of resting for a little while. She was beginning to feel quite weak now. Still, this situation would not wait. She needed to be strong. “Allow me to go and gather my things and then we shall depart. Kennington House is not far from here, truly. We should make it there in little time and, depending on how soon we can gain de Lara’s agreement, we should be back this evening in plenty of time for you to discuss business with your brothers.”
Gallus cocked an eyebrow at his wife as she turned for the stairs she had so recently come racing down. “It is not that simple and you know it,” he said. “Negotiations could take more than just a few moments of your time.”
Jeniver cast him a glance, giving him a wink. “Not if you turn me loose on him.”
Gallus lifted his shoulders. “If you feel up to the task, you may try,” he said. “He may respond better to the soft overtures of a woman.”
Jeniver’s only reply was to smile as she turned back for the stairs. The moment that she did so, however, the entire room began to rock unsteadily and she began to feel very weak and dizzy. Grabbing for the banister was the last thing she remembered before everything went dark.