Chapter Nine
She 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.”