England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Courtly was shoving the soft center of the bread into her mouth, being careful not to get crumbs on her dress. “Like what?” she asked curiously.

  Maximus thought as he chewed the pork. “Well,” he said reluctantly, eyeing her as he chewed. “I will not tell you unless you promise not to laugh at me.”

  Already, Courtly was grinning but she fought it. “I swear.”

  “Swear again.”

  “I do,” she said sincerely. “A million times, I do.”

  That was good enough for him and he shoved another piece of pork into his mouth. “As I said, my mother has collected many recipes over the years,” he said. “My older brother has a favorite – Cheese pie. My mother would make it for him quite a lot. As for me, I too had a favorite dish – a tart that she would call ‘Maxi’s Tart’. I do not even know if it has a real name because she always called it my tart, but it is onions boiled in beef broth and then mixed with butter, salt, cheese, raisins, and spices. It is baked in a crust and is absolutely delicious.”

  Courtly went back on her promise and grinned at him. “It sounds wonderful,” she said. “Mayhap your mother will give me the recipe if I ask her.”

  Maximus’ good humor took a hit. “That would be very difficult,” he said, his tone considerably softer. “She has been quite ill for the past month. She does not seem to awaken any longer. She simply sleeps.”

  Courtly sobered dramatically. “Oh, Max,” she breathed softly. “I am so very sorry to hear that. Where is she?”

  “At Isenhall Castle, my brother’s seat.”

  Courtly’s brow furrowed as she thought of Maximus’ mother dying without her sons around her. “Then why are you here?” she asked, though not unkindly. “I should think that if my father was ill, I would want to be by his side every moment.”

  Maximus nodded, sadly and wearily. “I am here because in my mother’s brief moments of consciousness,” he said, “she dictated that the good of the country was more important than sitting around, waiting for her to die. We had to come to Oxford after that. You see, my mother is not someone to be crossed. Had we not come to Oxford, I promise that she would have risen out of her deathbed to box our ears. But it was not an easy decision, I assure you.”

  Courtly was sad on his behalf. Speaking of his mother seemed to dampen his good humor significantly and for that she was sorry. Reaching out, she grasped his wrist, squeezing gently.

  “I am truly sorry,” she said. “I am sorry that you felt you had to come to Oxford rather than be with your mother. Will you be able to see her soon, I wonder?”

  Maximus felt her flesh against his like a searing brand. Her hand was soft and heated. He took it in his hand and lowered his big body onto an uprooted stump next to her. Still, he held her hand, gazing into her beautiful eyes.

  “When I go home, I want you to go with me,” he said, quite impulsively. “I will speak with your father today when I return you to Kennington. I want him to understand that I will marry you right away. I… I cannot explain myself any more than that. This is not impetuous or foolish, Courtly. I do not give my feelings away easily, but I know what I want. What I want is you.”

  Courtly couldn’t help the smile of genuine elation that crossed her features. “My heart is overjoyed,” she exclaimed. “I know that others would think you very hasty, but I do not. When you feel something very strongly, then it is the right decision for you.”

  “Then you agree?”

  Courtly gazed into the face of the man she knew she would marry. It was nearly too much happiness for her to digest. Was it really true? Was all of this truly happening? It seemed as if she were living a dream.

  “I do,” she murmured. “Indeed, I do.”

  “Then tell me how to approach your father. If he does not agree, I shall take you anyway, so it is best if he agrees. How can I accomplish this?”

  It was a complicated question, coming from a man who was unused to being denied his wants or wishes. She lowered her gaze, watching his big, rough hand as it toyed with her fingers. There was something so incredibly warm and safe about his touch, yet she knew they were hands that had killed. Everyone knew of Maximus de Shera and his reputation for being a ruthless battle lord. The Thunder Warrior, he was called. But at the moment, those hands were nothing short of tender. She must have been looking at him rather strangely because Maximus smiled when she didn’t answer him right away.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Why do you look at me so?”

  Embarrassed that she had been caught daydreaming, Courtly grinned. “I am sorry,” she said. “I do not mean to stare at you. But it was only this time yesterday when we met and now, already, you speak of marriage. I must say that when you make a decision, you move swiftly with it. But what about your family? Mustn’t your brother and mother give permission? You are a great lord, Maximus. Surely there are protocols you must go through.”

  Maximus continued to caress her fingers even as he ate more fried pork. “Although my brother is the Earl of Coventry, I am a lord in my own right,” he said, chewing. “I am Baron Allesley, a title I inherited from my father. I have lands far to the north near Chester with two smaller, manor homes and a small castle that is manned by de Shera men as a garrison against the Welsh. The land is very rich, the soil good, so the crops are always plentiful. Moreover, the castle guards a road leading in and out of Wales, and tolls are taken. I have a very good income from my lands and will be able to provide extremely well for you, as my wife. As for me needing permission from my brother, I supposed that I do, but he will do whatever I want him to do. If I tell him I am to marry you, he will have no objections.”

  Courtly was rather surprised to hear all of this, although in hindsight, she should not have been. She knew the de Sheras were powerful. But she also knew that a title and lands would not overly persuade her father to give his permission to a marriage. In fact, she was fairly certain the title of Lord Allesley wouldn’t impress Kellen one bit.

  “If you say that is true, then I will believe you,” she said, “but I fear that my father will not think it so simple.”

  Maximus took a drink out of the wine bottle he had brought along. “And why not?” he asked. “I have everything he could possibly want in a good husband for his daughter.”

  Courtly nodded, sighing as she set down her food. She found she wasn’t particularly hungry any longer, thinking about her father and how he would surely reject Maximus’ offer of marriage. Knowing her father as she did, it was a given.

  “You would make any woman a fine and honorable husband,” she said, forcing a smile. “You are perfect in every way. But my father… I am not entirely sure what drives him but, as I told you, he has chased away every suitor I have ever had. Earlier today, I discovered that he has done the same thing to his sister, which is why she is a spinster. Or, at least, she blames my father for her state. I had no idea he had done that to her but I suppose I should have guessed something like that was amiss. My father and his sister cannot stand the sight of one another and surely there is a great reason behind that. Hatred such as that is not innate.”

  Maximus took another drink of wine and squeezed her hand before releasing it, picking through the food he had brought and offering her something small, baked, and pie-shaped.

  “Here,” he said. “It is custard. Surely you have not finished eating yet.”

  Courtly shook her head, took the custard, but didn’t bite into it. She noticed that Maximus had not replied to her statement. As he rummaged around for more little custard pies, she spoke.

  “Please tell me your thoughts, Maximus” she said. “If you have changed your mind, I do not blame you.”

  He looked at her, frowning. “Why do you keep saying that?” he asked. “I have not changed my mind. I will never change my mind, so you can put your fears to rest. I am simply thinking on how to approach your father with all of this. You have given me a good deal to think on.”

  Courtly pondered the situation, watching him down two sm
all, custard pies. She took a tiny bite of hers. “Do you want my suggestion?”

  He nodded. “I asked you, did I not?”

  Courtly sighed faintly and set her custard pie down onto the bench beside her. “Send your brother and his wife to ask on your behalf,” she said. “My father both respects and fears Gallus de Shera. He is greatly impressed with the man. If your brother will plead on your behalf, my father may consider it. Truly, with the earl making the approach, he may have little choice in the matter.”

  Maximus looked at her, seriously. “I would be a poor man indeed if I sent my brother in to plead for your hand on my behalf,” he said. “I am not afraid of your father. If I do not ask for your hand directly, what manner of respect do you think he will have for me? Nay, love, I will not hide behind my brother, although I understand your position on the matter. When I offer for your hand, it will be directly to your father.”

  She smiled at him. “My apologies,” she said softly. “I did not mean to ask you to be any less than you are. I simply meant to suggest a way in which my father could surely not refuse.”

  Maximus reached out again and took her hand, holding it tightly in his big mitt. “I know,” he assured her quietly. “But this is between me and your father. Now, eliminating my brother as an intermediary, how else would you suggest I approach him?”

  Courtly thought on that. “As you said,” she replied. “Approach him directly and forcefully. Be firm but polite. My father respects strong men, of which you are clearly one, so the best way to handle him is to be stronger than he is. It is my suggestion you tell him what your intentions are rather than ask him. If you simply ask him, I can promise you he will deny you.”

  Maximus lifted his eyebrows in thought. “Then I will not give him the opportunity,” he said. “But if he denies me, then I hope you will like living on the run, because that is what we shall do.”

  Courtly giggled until she realized he was serious by the expression on his face. Then, she was rather stricken. “But… but you cannot do that,” she said, somewhat passionately. “What of your family? It will reflect poorly on them. And what about you? You have a great reputation, Maximus. You cannot ruin that by absconding with a woman. That is no way for a man like you to live your life. You cannot throw it all away simply because you cannot have the woman you want.”

  He didn’t like her reply even though he knew, deep down, that she was correct. He brushed the crumbs off his breeches, looking around to see if there was more food.

  “Do you want anything else?” he asked her, utterly avoiding her statement.

  Courtly could see he was putting her off. Because a man’s life was at stake, no matter how much she wanted to be his wife, she couldn’t let him ruin himself because of her.

  “Maximus,” she said softly. “Listen to me. If you and I run away together and you forsake everything, eventually, you will grow to resent me. That is no way for a marriage to exist. Once it is done, it cannot be undone. Your mistake cannot be undone. I will not let you destroy the rest of your life because of me.”

  He paused in the hunt for anything further to eat. When he looked at her, it was with uncertainty and sorrow.

  “You would not leave your father and go with me?” he asked.

  Courtly reached out and put her soft hands on his bearded face, looking him in the eye. “There is nothing I would want more than to go with you,” she whispered, touching the magnificent face of Maximus de Shera and feeling his bristly heat against her flesh. “I have known you less than a day and, already, you are under my skin. Your humor and generosity and good character has endeared itself to me. Would I go with you? Without question. But I could not have you ruin your reputation because my father denies your marriage suit. Mayhap in time, he will relent if you continue to ask him and demand he change his mind, but for us to run off without his permission… you will ruin everything you have ever worked for. It will reflect badly on your family. What would your mother say?”

  He was in the process of being thoroughly hypnotized by her luscious eyes and full lips, but the moment she brought up Honey, he stiffened.

  “You will not bring her into this,” he said.

  Courtly didn’t back down. “Why not?”

  He wanted to pull away from her but couldn’t. Those eyes had him within their grasp and there was no escape.

  “Because…,” he said hoarsely. “Because she would possibly say the same thing you have just said. If my mother were of better health, I would send her to your father in my stead. My mother and no other. No one denies Honey de Shera, of anything.”

  Courtly smiled gently. “I pray I have the opportunity to speak with her one day,” she whispered. “I would be deeply honored.”

  Maximus smiled at her but the pull was too strong. Reaching out, he grasped her and pulled her against him, his lips slanting hungrily over hers. He could feel Courtly resist at first, startled by his action, but he wrapped his muscular arms around her and refused to let her go. She was sweet and warm and delicious, tasting like the custard she had just eaten. He could taste it on her lips. He kissed her slowly, with a purpose, experiencing her scent and taste and texture. It was intoxicating.

  Maximus lost all sense of time as he gently suckled Courtly’s lips. She had stopped fighting him and was now collapsed against his chest, cradled in his arms as he feasted on her. Maximus had been with women in his lifetime, of course, losing his virginity when he was seventeen to the young women he had once described to Garran – She was the smithy’s daughter. When my father found out, he sent both her and her father away. I heard that she died later that year of a fever. Aye, that was all he really knew of love. He knew the pain of losing it before it even started.

  As he nibbled on Courtly’s chin, he vowed that this love would be different. Already, it was stronger than he had ever imagined it could be. This love, he would not lose. As he began to suckle Courtly’s lips again, he heard someone clearing their throat softly.

  “Maximus?”

  Maximus knew the voice so he wasn’t particularly startled as he looked up from Courtly’s flushed face. Stefan du Bois was standing several feet away, looking rather embarrassed that he had been forced to intervene. Maximus, however, was consummately cool.

  “Stefan,” he said evenly. “How did you find me?”

  Stefan didn’t look at Courtly as she pulled herself from Maximus’ arms, her back to Stefan as she struggled to compose herself. Stefan, like any good knight, was focused on his liege.

  “Lady de Shera has sent me for you,” he said. “She told me I could find you in or around the Street of the Merchants. Lady de Shera says that it is time to escort Lady Courtly back to Kennington.”

  Maximus stood up, realizing that his manhood was a slightly aroused as the result of his heated kisses with Courtly, but he simply shifted his tunic under the guise of repositioning the sheath for his broadsword to cover it up. He was still reeling from their kiss, however, so much so that he was having difficulty focusing on what Stefan was saying. But he forced himself.

  “Where is Lady de Shera?” he asked.

  Stefan threw his thumb in the direction of The One-Eyed Raven. “She is not feeling well so we must return for her before we take the lady home,” he said. “She says that she must accompany you back to Kennington so the lady’s father will not think her irresponsible for leaving the lady alone with you.”

  Maximus was already collecting Courtly’s possessions as the woman stood up, still wiping her lips, which were very red from Maximus’ bristly beard. Maximus took her by the elbow and politely escorted her to where Stefan was standing.

  “Did you just come from The One-Eyed Raven?” Maximus asked the knight.

  Stefan nodded. “Less than a half-hour ago.”

  “Has Gallus returned from his meeting with de Montfort?”

  “Not yet.”

  “And Tiberius?”

  “He and Garran went off together. They have not yet returned.”

  No
w that Maximus knew the status of his men and his brothers, he turned to look at Courtly, who smiled up at him wanly. She still wasn’t over Stefan having stumbled upon them. Maximus could see the embarrassment in her features and it made him smile. He found humor in her chaste shame. It was very charming. He extended an elbow to her.

  “Shall we go, my lady?” he asked politely.

  Courtly forced a smile, accepting his elbow and refusing to look at Stefan as Maximus led her past him. He headed for the livery, taking his blushing lady with him as Stefan followed behind. They had to cross a couple of busy avenues before they arrived at the livery, the yard of which was crowded by a merchant and his traveling party. Maximus simply plowed through the group, but they gave him a wide berth. Maximus was not a man to be ignored, in any case.

  Inside the stable, the de Shera carriage had been removed when Jeniver had been taken back to The One-Eyed Raven. The only thing left was Maximus’ muscular jennet plus Stefan’s big, white rouncey. Maximus quickly realized that there was no transportation for Courtly so he sent Stefan to hunt down the livery owner. As Stefan went on the prowl, Maximus turned to Courtly.

  “I should apologize for that unseemly display,” he said softly, a gentle smile on his lips. “I should not have lost control as I did but I could not seem to help it. Worse yet, I cannot promise that it will not happen again.”

  Courtly broke into a bashful smile. “I suppose you must sample that which you intend to marry.”

  Maximus laughed softly. “I must,” he agreed, sobering. “And I am pleased.”

  Courtly gazed up at him. “As am I,” she whispered. “But… but I truly fear what will happen when you return me to Kennington. My father was clearly unhappy this morning when I went with Lady de Shera and I am afraid of what he will do upon my return. I suppose I am in for a row.”

  Maximus’ expression grew grim. Deadly, even. “He would not hurt you, would he?”

  Courtly shook her head. “Nay,” she assured him. “He would never do that. But he will be… angry.”