Page 13 of Lord of Misrule

“These are our things,” Kit answered him, since Jarvis was in no position to turn around without dropping something.

“This is ridiculous. No one travels with so many belongings,” grumbled Tolin.

“I do.”

“You couldn’t possibly use all the things you’ve brought with you.”

She looked up at him when she answered. “If we’re going to be living here until Twelfth Night, then these things will all be needed, I assure you.” She tried to pick up the bag but it was bulky and she slipped on the wet cobblestones. Tolin’s arms shot out to catch her. He pulled her to his chest to steady her and keep her from falling.

A mistake.

Feeling the warmth of her body pressed up against him, smelling the floral scent of her hair, and noticing each one of her delectable curves, it had his mind racing. Once again.

“Thank you,” she said, looking directly at him. Their faces were close. So close that he could have easily bent over and kissed her lush lips. But he didn’t. “If you don’t mind, I am getting wet. I have fresh bread and baked goods in these bags that will be ruined if we stand here a minute longer.”

“Huh? Baked goods? Oh, yes.” Tolin blindly released her. He picked up the bag of pans and carried it as they headed to the great hall together.

“I’ll require a private room for my accommodations during my visit. For me and my family, that is,” she added catching him off guard.

“Private room,” he repeated, confused by the family part and thinking about that instead. “Wait a minute. You said during your visit.”

“That’s right.” She continued to walk.

“But you’re not here visiting and are not a guest. You are here as part of a punishment for what your son did, if I must remind you. Therefore, there will be no private room or any room at all.”

“What he supposedly did,” she corrected him, once again taking control of the conversation as he kept pace at her side. “Of course, you believe that a little boy is capable of stealing a sword from a royal guard, even though it is the furthest thing from the truth.”

“That is what my guard told me. I have no reason not to believe it.”

“I see,” she answered with a sniff. “Well, if that is what you believe, then perhaps you need to think about getting a new guard. One who can fend off an eight-year-old boy.”

He wanted to object, but after just seeing Henry well in his cups, he was having his doubts that the guard was worth much at all. Perhaps the girl was right, but he couldn’t admit it. Nor would he ever let the wench tell him what to do.

“I am still waiting for an answer. Who are those other people who arrived here with you?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him in the rain. “That is my pregnant sister and her husband.”

“Why are they here?”

“To help me bake, of course. For your celebrations from Christmas until Twelfth Night.”

“I didn’t say they could come here.”

“I thought you wanted successful festivities during Christmastide since you are in charge during your father’s absence. Did you not?”

“I assure you, I know how to plan a celebration.”

“I’m sure you do, my lord. But when you said you liked my tarts, I thought you wanted more.”

She was still standing close and it was driving him mad. The raindrops on her long eyelashes only made her eyes even more alluring.

“Yes, I do,” he answered, his hand resting on her shoulder. “You have no idea how much I crave your tarts.”

“My sister helps me make them, so it might be wise to let her stay.”

“Of course,” he said, getting lost in her eyes. “Wait a minute,” he mumbled, realizing she was catching him off guard yet again. “What about the man? He doesn’t look like a baker to me.”

“He’s not. But I figured you could use more help for the holidays. In the stable perhaps? He is good with horses and also very strong. He also likes dogs, so mayhap he’d be better suited for the kennels. I suppose you will be inviting some of the finest nobles to the castle for Christmastide?”