The young girl shook her head, holding tightly to the woman. “Nay,” she replied, looking at Garran, who was standing a few feet away. “He… he saved me.”
The young woman looked at the big, black-eyed knight. “You have my thanks,” she said sincerely. Then, she reluctantly turned to Maximus, who was just rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off his leather breeches. It was clear that she was torn between her embarrassment and her gratitude. “And to you, sirrah… I suppose I should thank you also. Had you not been here, the outcome might have been considerably different for my sister and me.”
Maximus moved away from the flaming structure, which was starting to collapse. Pieces of building were falling onto the avenue and, silently, he and Garran moved the women away from the danger to the other side of the street. It was a chivalrous habit to protect the weaker female sex and had nothing to do with his overall concern for the women. Considering the ungrateful lady had beat him around the head, he would just as soon leave her where she stood.
“Your gratitude is unnecessary,” he said, realizing he was having difficulty looking her in the eye and not thinking of that sweet morsel between her legs that had presented itself so unexpectedly to him. “If you are uninjured and do not require further assistance, then we shall be along our way.”
He didn’t even wait for an answer; he found that he was increasingly confused as to his reaction to the woman, as if she had somehow cast a spell over him. Something about her was pulling him towards her whether or not he wanted to and he didn’t like it, not one bit. As he and Garran turned away, heading back for the Street of the Merchants and to the business they were there to conduct, the young woman’s soft voice called after him.
“Sirrah,” she said. “I should like to know your name so that I may tell my father. He will want to thank you.”
Maximus paused and he turned to face her. Her voice had a silky, sensual quality, something he found quite alluring. A siren’s song, he thought ominously. She is trying to bewitch me with that honeyed tone.
“As I said, gratitude is not necessary,” he said somewhat stiffly. “We were honored to be of assistance.”
He turned to leave but, again, the woman stopped him. “Wait, please,” she said. By the time he turned around with some impatience to look at her, she was walking towards him, clutching the little girl beside her. Her lovely features were considerably softer. “I… I am sorry I became angry with you when you were only trying to help. I am afraid that my fear got the better of me. If you would forgive my behavior, I would consider it a personal favor.”
Lord, but that tone was smooth and gentle. He almost closed his eyes to it, letting it flow over him, infiltrate him, and he knew that if he let himself go that she could talk him into anything with those dulcet tones. He wanted to walk away from her and away from the situation; he truly did. He had no involvement here and was anxious to be about his business. But gazing into those bright blue eyes, he realized he couldn’t simply walk away from her. Something about her had reached out to grab him.
“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 know him.
“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 brother’s 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 the embraced his square-jawed face. His eyes were a very dark blue, a color of the lapis lazuli 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 to it 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.”