Courtly pointed to the pile of smoldering ruins that had once been their hostel. “There was a fire, Papa,” she told him seriously. “Sir Maximus and Sir Garran saved our lives. We had to jump from the window and they were here to save us.”
Kellen de Lara, Viscount Trelystan and Lord Sheriff of the Southern Marches, looked at his eldest daughter with horror. A man in his early forties, he was fair and handsome, his face weathered from the years of harsh elements and harsh campaigns. His gaze moved between the smoking building and his daughter’s earnest face. Stunned, he simply shook his head.
“Sweet Jes?,” he murmured, reaching out to grasp his daughters, the both of them. “Is this true?”
“It is.”
“And you jumped from the building?”
“Aye, Papa.”
Kellen was nearly beside himself. “Are you well?” he demanded softly. “Did you hurt yourself in any way?”
Courtly shook her head. “We are well,” she replied, her gaze moving to Maximus. “It is Sir Maximus you must thank, Papa. He was a hero.”
Maximus, embarrassed by the praise, was already shaking his head even as Kellen turned to him. “It was not as much as that, my lord,” he said. “Your daughter was quite resourceful and constructed a rope from bed linens, using it to lower herself with. All we did was hold the rope steady and make sure she and her sister came to no harm.”
Kellen was pale with shock. “I can never thank you enough, Sir Maximus,” he said. “What you have done… you have saved my children. I am in your debt.”
Maximus shook his head, uncomfortable. “That is unnecessary, my lord,” he assured the man. “I was happy to help. But now that you are here, I must go about my business. I did not want to leave your daughters unescorted until you returned.”
Kellen was overwhelmed with the situation and with Maximus’ chivalry. He knew the man in name and reputation only, as he’d never had the opportunity to work closely with him. De Montfort kept the de Shera brothers close to him, like personal attack dogs, so it wasn’t often that the brothers mingled with the other barons. Now, Maximus was in his midst and had evidently done him a great service. He owed the man.
“Again, you have my deepest thanks,” he said. “You as well, Sir Garran, have my thanks. May I at least invite you both to sup with us this eve? I should like to demonstrate my thanks for your heroics. Invite your brothers as well. I’ve not had the opportunity to converse with the three of you other than cursory discussions.”
Maximus was hesitant. “Your offer is generous, my lord, but my brothers may have other plans,” he said. Then, he caught a glimpse of Courtly’s hopeful expression and he knew that, come what may, he was going to accept de Lara’s invitation. It wouldgive him another opportunity to see Courtly again. “I, however, have no such plans. I would be happy to sup with you.”
Kellen smiled and Courtly positively beamed. “Excellent,” Kellen said. Then, he turned to eye the heap of ashes behind him. “We have been supping at the hostel but it would seem our dining hall has been burned to the ground. Come out to Kennington House, south of Oxford, and we shall dine tonight in the halls of my ancestors. We shall put on such a feast as to impress even the likes of you. Will you come, then?”
Maximus nodded, trying not to stare at Courtly, who was smiling at him quite openly. “I will be honored, my lord,” he said. “I will see you this eve.”
With that, he nodded his farewells to the de Lara group, excusing himself, and together he and Garran headed back down the avenue, back to the spice merchant to reclaim the licorice root and other things he had purchased. Already, he was thinking on the evening and the time he would spend gazing at Courtly de Lara’s magnificent face. Already, he was missing her as he headed back down the avenue.
It was an effort not to turn around and look at her, but he didn’t want to do it and seem over-eager. His thoughts, however, lingered on the lovely Courtly as her father took charge of both her and her sister, ushering them onto horses and making their way to Kennington House where the vile de Lara aunt resided.
Even as they reached the spice vendor, Maximus was thinking on gold-spun hair and on luminous, blue eyes. As Garran collected the packages they had already paid for, Maximus caught sight of an entire shelf of perfumed oil. He gazed at it, a thought coming to him, as Garran headed out of the stall.
“We must find Ty,” Garran said, squinting down the avenue to see if he could catch sight of the youngest de Shera brother. “We need to get this stuff to Lady de Shera.”
Maximus was still looking at the perfumed oil, breaking from his train of thought as Garran spoke. He eyed Garran, eyed the oil, and then pretended to look at other things.
“Go and find my brother,” he instructed. “I will look the wares over one more time to see if there is something else we can purchase to help Jeniver’s belly.”
Garran went without another word. Maximus peered from the doorway of the stall, casually, watching the knight head down the avenue in search of Tiberius. When he was positive that Garran wasn’t going to turn around and head back in his direction, he went straight to the spice merchant and pointed to the perfumed oils on the shelf.
A few minutes later, a beautifully wrapped phial of rose-scented oil was tucked safely in Maximus’ tunic, intended for a certain young lady when he saw her at sup that night.
CHAPTER TWO
Kennington House
Oxford South
Kennington House hadbeen built the previous century and had come into the de Lara clan through marriage. It had originally been a de Vere property those years ago and the de Veres had spared little expense for it; a very large and lavish hall was attached to a two-storied secondary building that contained four smaller chambers on the bottom floor and a massive, master’s chamber on the upper floor. The house itself was shaped like a “T”, with the window of the master’s chamber facing the church across the road because the pious de Veres liked it that way.
In the smaller chamber on the ground floor, Courtly sat on a simple, oak chair, working on a piece of embroidery that wasn’t her own. Her aunt, Lady Ellice, had given it to her when they had arrived at Kennington House earlier that day and had told her to finish it. The woman had given her and Isadora no greeting other than to hand them projects to complete, for her attention was fully on her younger brother, Kellen, and the distinct distaste they had for one another. A childless spinster, Ellice had no patience for children or even for people in general. She was a bitter, nasty shrew.
Therefore, while Ellice and Kellen went through the motions of a stiff greeting as Kellen explained the reason behind their arrival at Kennington, Courtly and Isadora disappeared intothe house and into the small bedchamber they usually slept in during the times they had visited. Neither girl wanted to be around their father and aunt when the conversation turned nasty, which it usually did fairly quickly. It had, for as long as the girls could remember, an underlying hatred and bitterness from Ellice towards her brother, although that underlying hatred had never been explained. It was simply the way of things.
