Page 45 of A Knight’s Vengeance

She did not want him to catch her staring. “Milord.” Because she wanted that bath—and only for that reason, she told herself—she graced him with a stiff curtsey.

Surprise lit his gaze. He drank from a goblet, then dragged his thumb over his lips. “You accepted my offer. I was not certain you would.”

“I was not certain myself, until Dominic promised Mildred would accompany me.”

His mouth pursed. “Mildred?”

Dominic stepped forward. “I had to sweeten the arrangement, milord. I agreed her lady-in-waiting could dine as well.”

De Lanceau’s brow darkened with a scowl. Elizabeth expected him to order swift punishment for Dominic. To her astonishment, the rogue gritted his teeth and bared a smile that looked almost painful.

“Well, milady. Since Dominic has taken it upon himself to honor your request, I would be remiss not to see it done. Guards, fetch Mildred.”

She heard the men behind her turn and stride away. Hushed conversation resumed in the hall.

De Lanceau stood and gestured to the chair beside him. “Come.”

The thought of sitting next to him and suffering his attentions for the whole meal tied Elizabeth’s stomach into a knot. Yet, there were other vacant chairs at the table. Mildred would soon arrive to chaperone.

Elizabeth squared her shoulders and forced aside her reluctance. She would have the bath he promised. If she must pacify the rogue for a short while, then so be it.

She nodded to him, stepped up onto the dais, and sat in the chair to his right. Tension seemed to ease from his posture. He called to the serving woman to bring more bread, and with effortless grace, lowered himself into his chair. The scents of fresh air and leather wafted to Elizabeth, and his nearness stirred memories of his body’s heat pressed against hers. She bit down on her lip.

A blush threatened, but at that moment, the gray-haired woman waddled toward them and set down a wooden board of grain rolls.

“There ye are, milord. Plenty for ye and the lady.”

De Lanceau grinned, and the serving woman’s face reddened. “You are as kind as you are beautiful, Mistress Peg.”

His smile, warmed with genuine affection, took the harshness from his features. He no longer looked forbidding, but handsome.

Elizabeth wrenched her gaze away.

Peg’s blush deepened. “Ye tease, milord.” She giggled, dipped in a curtsey, and then stomped away, shouting orders to the maidservants delivering food.

A tantalizing smell reached Elizabeth. She sniffed and tried to identify the meaty scent.

De Lanceau reached out to the table’s edge and pulled over a filled trencher. Stew. He set the food between them.

Her knotted stomach lurched. He had not started to eat, though as lord of the keep he had been served first. He had waited for her. He intended to share his meal with her and honor the custom between noble lords and ladies.

She was going to be ill.

He must have sensed her thoughts, for he pushed the fare toward her. She glanced at the braised meat and vegetables swimming in gravy. The sauce looked greasy and lumpy, but she did not care. Her stomach rumbled in an unladylike fashion, and she cringed.

Geoffrey slid a small silver eating dagger toward her. “Hungry?”

Denial buzzed on her tongue, but her helpless gaze fell again to the stew. Her stomach ached. Her fingers itched to grab the knife, spear a chunk of meat, and stuff it into her mouth.

“Elena tells me you have not eaten much in two days,” he said. Elizabeth watched his lean fingers break apart one of the rolls and tear it into bite-sized pieces. She had never seen such wondrous bread, flaked with oats and seeds. Choosing a soft morsel, he dipped it in the rich broth. “Is that true?”

“Aye.”

“’Tis foolish to starve yourself,” he murmured, toying with the bread. “If you refuse to feed yourself, I will have to find a way to make you.” His gaze flicked up, and he looked at her. “Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

He lifted the soaked morsel to her lips. “Then eat, or I will make good my promise.”