Chapter Thirteen #2
“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “When did this happen?”
She put her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs. “Last summer.”
“Then you should be delivering this child in the next month or two.”
That only made her weep harder, as if she had no answer for him. “Did you truly not know you were with child, Andressa?” Maxton asked. “Did you truly think that the swelling of your belly meant something else?”
She lifted her slender shoulders. “I was praying it was not true,” she whispered. “I was praying it was all a great mistake. If I ignored it, I hoped it would go away. I… I worked very hard, hoping the seed would die, but it did not. Then, when the child began to move…”
“He moves?”
She nodded. “It moves quite a lot, especially when I am trying to sleep.”
He couldn’t help but notice she addressed the child as “it”.
Not he, or she, but “it”. Beneath his hands, her belly was warm and firm.
Not huge, but definitely rounded, about the size of a large melon and easily concealed by the loose clothing she wore.
He removed his hands and pulled the damp drying towel tightly around her, covering her up.
Now, Maxton had a dilemma. A massive one.
William Marshal wanted Andressa to return to St. Blitha, but if Maxton had been uncertain before, now he was doubly so.
He couldn’t send a pregnant woman back there and a wild sense of protection swept him.
This wasn’t even his child, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Andressa was vulnerable and needed protecting.
Wasn’t that what he was sworn to do, as a knight?
God, he’d spent so much time killing men on command, or fighting other men’s battles – right or wrong – that the chivalry had left him long ago.
But now, it was back.
It didn’t matter that some foolish knight had seduced Andressa and left her with his child to deal with. Nay, that didn’t matter in the least. Maxton was the last one to judge when it came to sinning.
He told me he loved me…
It was one more horrific situation for this poor woman to deal with.
“I am sorry, my lord,” Andressa suddenly spoke, breaking the silence between them.
“I am so very sorry for my failings and my weakness. It would seem that all you have known from me since the moment we met are failings and weakness, but I assure you, I was not always like this. Once, I was a strong, noble woman. I was excellent in my studies. I had many friends. Believe it or not, I was pretty once, too. Or, so I am told. But you have discovered me at my lowest and, for that, I am very sorry. I wish you knew me before… before all of this.”
He looked at her. “You are beautiful,” he said as if she were mad to believe otherwise. “As for discovering you at your lowest, I am in no position to condemn you. My sins far outweigh your own.”
She looked at him in astonishment. “Then… then you are not… you do not think I am a horrible, failing creature for what I have done?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I am going to tell you something, Andressa,” he said pointedly. “I, too, have indulged in pleasures of the flesh outside of marriage, so if that is a sin, then I have sinned many times over. You are not alone.”
One might have thought it to be a tasteless confession, but to Andressa, it was possibly the best thing he could have said. When he could have turned his nose up at her, he proudly told her that she wasn’t alone in her failings. Not every man would have done that.
“Then… you are not disgusted?” She was still incredulous.
“Nay,” he said. “We all have our moments of weakness. You are not to blame.”
Andressa could hardly believe his reaction. For something she’d been trying to ignore, to pretend wasn’t real, his attitude made her feel like there was hope… hope for her, hope for everything. Hope that, perhaps, this wasn’t the end for her, after all.
“You are very understanding,” she said. “Most anyone would judge my actions harshly.”
He snorted softly. “As I said, I have sinned in such a way many times over, with many women who were not my wife.”
“Then you are not married, my lord?”
He shook his head. “Stop addressing me formally,” he said. “It seems ridiculous under these circumstances. You will call me Maxton. Or Max. Call me what you wish, Andressa. I will answer. But to answer your question, I am not married.”
“But why not?”
“Who would have me?”
She blinked, as if the question was ridiculous. “Any woman would be very fortunate to have you as a husband,” she said. “You are a skilled, kind, and generous knight, and surely you have much to offer any woman. Has someone been foolish enough to deny your suit? Is that it?”
He looked at her, a flicker of a smile on his lips. “I’ve not been brave enough or stupid enough to actually pursue a woman,” he said. “But your words are appreciated. I am not sure if they are true, but they are appreciated.”
Andressa eyed him. “You have told me of things from your past, things you are not proud of,” she said. “Will… will you tell me where you come from, my lo… I mean, Sir Maxton? You know much about me, but I know very little about you.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I do. Will you please tell me?”
He thought on that. It seemed an odd subject shift, from the subject of her illicit pregnancy to speaking of his background. But the truth was that he was glad to be off the subject of the child, at least for the moment. Perhaps speaking of himself might distract her enough to cause her to relax.
“If you call me Sir Maxton again, I am going to pinch you,” he said, watching a timid smile spread across her face.
He couldn’t help but grin in return, a light moment in the midst of a heady situation.
“It is simply Maxton, or Max. As for my background, you already know I am from Devon. Though my family name is de Long, we are known for our castle of Loxbeare Cross. An ancestor of mine built it one hundred and fifty years ago, and simply used it to refer to his family instead of our family name. That is what we are known as – Loxbeare.”
Andressa understood. “So you are Maxton de Long of Loxbeare Cross,” she clarified, watching him nod.
“I have heard of men using the names of their homes as identification. One such family that comes to mind is Pembury. There was a Lady Pembury, a friend of my patroness, Lady de Courtney, and she was from the town of Pembury. But her family name was Culpepper.”
Maxton nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “And I have two younger brothers and a younger sister, all three of whom I’ve not seen in almost twenty years.”
“Why not?”
Maxton lifted his shoulders, averting his gaze.
“I left home at a young age,” he said. “My father, Magnus, and I do not get on well. Magnus wanted me to remain at Loxbeare Cross, as his heir, and be his shadow. He did not want me to leave, but I… I wanted to see the world. I wanted to find my own way in life and do what I wanted to do, and not what my father told me to do. My father is quite overbearing.”
“Did your brothers and sister remain with him, then?”
Maxton turned away from her at that point, returning to the chair he’d been sitting in as he settled into a conversation that, under normal circumstances, was uncomfortable for him.
“My brother, Emmett, is more like my father,” he said.
“He is content to remain at home and rule with my father, while my brother, Jasper, has devoted his life to the church. The last I heard, he had taken his vows as a Benedictine priest somewhere in York. And my little sister, Lucy… I do not know what has become of her. She and I were quite close and when I left, she was around eight years of age. That would be at least twenty or more years ago. She was a light in my world. I miss her.”
Cracks in his facade were starting to show, emotions from the usually emotionless man. Andressa sensed that. “Surely you can write to your father and discover what has become of her?” she asked. “Mayhap she is married now, with many children to call you uncle.”
Maxton thought back to the little girl with the red curls, and how much she had wept when he’d left home. “I have written to my father,” he said quietly. “I never receive a reply.”
“Oh,” Andressa said as if sorry she had even suggested such a thing. “Is your father angry with you for leaving Loxbeare Cross, then?”
Maxton considered that question. “Angry? Aye,” he said. “But mostly disappointed. He did not want me to see the world and seek my own way in life. He wanted me to take after him, to be exactly like him. I could not do it. I had to follow my own path.”
“But you do not regret doing such a thing?”
“Never,” he said resolutely. “But I am sure my father has caught wind of my unsavory reputation as an Executioner Knight, among other things. Most everyone in England has. I am sure that is why he does not answer my missives. He is ashamed of me.”
Andressa was silent for a moment as she turned for the stool next to the hearth, lowering herself down to it. “You are still his son,” she said. “He has not stopped loving you.”
“I would not be too sure.”
“Mayhap you should go home and find out for yourself. At least, you would know for certain.”
Had anyone else made that suggestion, he would have scoffed, but coming from Andressa, he couldn’t seem to refute her. Her tone was gentle, her words reasonable. She had a great sense of wisdom about her, something he’d seen from the start. Therefore, he simply nodded his head.
“Mayhap,” he replied quietly. “But not today. Mayhap someday. In any case, now you know something of me. I am unspectacular.”
“You are fascinating,” she countered. “You are a man of great experience and I am sure your father will realize that someday. He raised a son who is not a follower, but a leader. Even I can see that.”