“There is nothing to forgive, my lady,” he said, less stiffly. “Your fright is understandable.”
She smiled faintly and Maximus went weak in the knees. He simply couldn’t help it. He’d never seen such a beautiful smile. “You are too gracious,” she said. Then, she indicated the girl in her grasp. “This is my sister, Lady Isadora de Lara. I am Lady Courtly. My father is Kellen de Lara. Mayhap you know of him.”
Maximus cocked an eyebrow. “The Lord of the Trilateral Castles?” he asked. “Trelystan, Hyssington and Caradoc Castles. Your father is Viscount Trelystan.”
Courtly nodded. “He is, indeed,” she said, surprised that the man should know her father in such detail. “Then you know him?”
Maximus nodded. “I do,” he replied. He had a mind like a steel trap and never forgot anything once he’d learnt it. “The Marcher lords of de Lara hold nearly the entire southern portion of the Welsh Marches as the Lord Sheriffs. Everyone knows of your family, my lady. They are great and powerful. And I know your father well. He is a fine and just man.”
Courtly’s smile grew. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I should like to tell him who saved my sister and me from certain death.”
Maximus hesitated for a moment. A modest man, he wasn’t one to easily accept praise or accolades, but he saw no harm in giving the lady his name. Moreover, he wanted her to know it. As foolish as it was, he wanted her to knowhim.
“De Shera,” he replied. “I am Maximus de Shera and my counterpart is Garran de Moray.”
He was pointing to Garran beside him but Courtly didn’t look at Garran. She was focused on Maximus as the smile faded from her face.
“De Shera,” she murmured, mulling the name over. “I believe I have heard my father speak of you. You have brothers, do you not?”
“Two.”
She nodded as her recollection returned. “Indeed, I have heard my father speak of you and your brothers,” she said. “One of your brothers is an earl, is he not?”
“The Earl of Coventry.”
“My father says the de Sheras are de Montfort’s muscle.”
Maximus shrugged. “De Montfort has many men that fit that description,” he replied humbly. “We are simply part of a group under de Montfort’s command.”
Courtly eyed the very big, very broad knight. He had brown hair, close-cropped, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that embraced his square-jawed face. His eyes were a very dark green, a color of the jade stone she had seen once on a piece of jewelry her father had given her mother. His features were even and well-formed, and he had shoulders so broad that she was sure the man couldn’t fit through a doorway with ease. His hands were the size of trenchers.
He was exceptionally handsome, which did nothing to ease the embarrassment of what had happened when the linen rope had given way and she had fallen on top of him. The man’s face had been pressed right up against her genitals. She could still feel his scratchy beard against her tender core. The recollection of it sent shivers through her body, a quivering she did not understand, but all she knew was that it fed her embarrassment and caused her palms to sweat. Or perhaps there was more toit than simply embarrassment, something primal and wanting. She simply didn’t know. All she knew was that she’d never known anything like it.
“I am sure you are being modest,” she finally said. “I am not even a warrior, yet I have heard the de Shera name frequently. I am honored and fortunate that you were here to save my sister and me. It will make a fine story to tell my friends, in any case. They will be quite envious.”
A flicker of a smile twitched on Maximus’ lips. “I hope it does not cause them all to run out and set buildings on fire, hoping I will come around to save them.”
Courtly laughed softly, displaying lovely, white teeth. “Would it be such a burden, then?” she teased. “You are a hero, after all.”
He shook his head firmly. “I am nothing of the sort,” he said. “I happened to be here at the right time and that is all.”
Courtly’s eyes glimmered. “As I said, we were most fortunate.”
Maximum simply nodded. The conversation was dwindling but he didn’t want it to. He rather liked talking to her. Her voice was like music to his ears and her smile made him forget all time and space and reason. It was hypnotic. He could have spent all day listening to her laugh. If she were a siren, then he was gladly, and quite happily, succumbing to her deadly charms. He didn’t care in the least. But he didn’t want to make a fool of himself by lingering over a dying conversation so he cleared his throat softly, sorry to see it end.
“I will take no more of your time, my lady,” he said, eyeing the little girl clutched against her sister. “Before I go, however, tell me where your father is so I may send him word of your predicament. Surely he will want to know.”
Courtly looked at the hostel, which was now crumbling with flame and ash. Men were attempting to douse the fire withbuckets of water, sending great plumes of white smoke into the air.
“I am not entirely sure where he is,” she said. “He said he had business to attend this morning but did not say where. My sister and I have nowhere to go at the moment. I suppose we should simply wait here for him to return.”
Maximus, too, watched men struggle to put out the flame. The building was a total loss as people scrambled to keep the fire from spreading to the other closely-crowded buildings surrounding it.
“Have you no one to wait with you?” he asked. “No servants or soldiers? None of your father’s men?”
Courtly shook her head. “He took his men with him,” she replied. “My sister and I had a secured room and our nurse has gone to do some shopping. We were alone when the fire started.”
Maximus turned to look at her. “Do you know how it started?”
