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 hehadmeant 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.”
