CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Inside a rather large merchant shop on the Street of the Merchants, known as Threeneedle Street, Lyssa was watching an old merchant and his wife string out rolls and rolls of fabric to show her the quality, color, and durability of it. Since Lyssa needed to inspect the product and it took two of them to bring out the rolls of material, Garret ended up being the dummy.
Truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure how he ended up permitting fabric to be draped on his big body, but the expression on Lyssa’s face didn’t make it seem so bad. She was trying so hard not to laugh as the old man with the long white beard and his equally old wife with a visibly white mustache hung blue silk fabric over one shoulder and then green brocade fabric over the other. Lyssa didn’t want the blue but she loved the green, so the green was set aside. Just when Garret thought he had a reprieve, the merchants brought out more fabric and he found himself swathed in mustard yellow.
“What do you think, my lady?” the merchant asked. “Beautiful, is it not?”
The merchant and his wife were Jewish, as were most of the merchants on the street, and their accents were very heavy. “Think” sounded like “deenk”, so sometimes he had to ask the question twice before Lyssa understood him. But she and Garret had been here almost an hour, the very first merchant stall they stopped at after leaving The Wix, so now she was becoming more adept at understanding the old couple. They’d stopped repeating themselves for the most part, and Lyssa thought they were rather sweet. And they had a horde of stock in their stall, filled with more treasures than the royal treasury.
Or, at least, it seemed that way.
“I-It is very beautiful,” Lyssa said. “I-I should like to have it.”
Triumphant, the old man pulled the fabric away from Garret while his wife pulled forth something else. Garret could see that they would continue to use him for a dummy as long as he stood there so, at that point, he thought to defend himself somewhat.
“Do you truly need to have me show off these goods before you’ll buy them?” he asked, half-pleading, half-demanding.
But Lyssa laughed softly at his misery. “T-Those fabrics would not look half as beautiful if you were not showing them to me,” she said. “Y-Yellow is truly your color. Y-You should have a tunic of that color.”
He shook his head quickly. “Nay, lady, I shall leave the yellow to the women.”
“B-But why? I-It is such a lovely color.”
He smiled thinly. “On you, but not on me.”
Lyssa could see that he was he was embarrassed and trying very hard to act like he wasn’t. “I-It is quite fashionable for men and women to wear clothing of matching color,” she said. “I-It is most impressive to see at feasts and gatherings.”
He was shaking his head even as she said it. “Not me.”
“N-Not even to show all men that I belong to you if we wear a matching color?”
He looked at her then, seeing the glimmer of mirth in her eye. But there was also hope; hope that he was willing to play his part in this relationship that was forming between them. His uncertainty in just how to comply with the rules of a relationship had him rethinking his stance on matching colors. If that was what men and women did together, then perhaps he shouldn’t be so stubborn. Therefore, he pursed his lips, irritably, before breaking down into a grin.
“If I thought I could get away with writing my name across your forehead, I would do so in order to tell all men to whom you belong,” he said softly, warmly. “But wearing clothing that match….”
“A-All of the proper couples do that these days.”
“She is right, my lord,” the old woman merchant agreed emphatically. She had a big stretch of a beautiful wine-colored silk in her hands. “Many young lords and ladies have matching clothing made. Would you not do it for your lady? If you do not, some man may think she does not have anyone. That would be terrible!”
The old woman had a way of making it sound like Garret was a rotten lover for not wanting to match his lady. He could see Lyssa giggling out of the corner of his eye. In truth, his resistance was gone because he could see that it meant something to her. He meant something to her. Understanding that it was important, he surrendered.
It made his heart joyful to see her happy.
“Very well,” he sighed heavily. “If it means so much to you, then I will wear a tunic to match you.”
Lyssa squealed with delight, grabbing the old woman by the arm. “T-The dark blue silk that you showed me,” she said quickly. “Y-You know the one? I-I will take that. M-Make sure there is enough for a cote for me and a tunic for him.”
The old woman began moving quickly, snatching up a lovely blue silk from a pile draped on a nearby table. “It will be beautiful on you both,” she said happily. “Now, come and see my ribbons!”
Flashing Garret a grin, Lyssa rushed off after the old woman, who evidently had a treasure trove of ribbons, threads, and other items that could be sewn onto a cote for embellishment. Even though the old man was trying to show Lyssa more fabric, she was swept up in gold thread and semi-precious stones that would adorn her garments, and Garret watched from afar. He couldn’t stop watching her.
He didn’t want to.
It was surreal, this moment in time. He’d never experienced anything like it – spending time with a woman who he was more attracted to by the second. His life had always been one of such rigorous training and duty and, most of all, surrounded by men. He was proud of his relationships with his fellow knights. But now, he was spending time with a woman and even at his advanced years, he felt like a giddy squire, as if he were just coming to learn about women for the first time.
In truth, he was. He was feeling terribly awkward but he was more than willing to learn what he needed to know about making a woman happy, and if that meant she had to make a tunic for him that matched her dress, then so be it. He would feel stupid, but she would be happy, and that was all that mattered to him.
“G-Garret,” Lyssa called out to him, breaking him from his train of thought. She was holding up a beautiful silver belt that had tassels on it. “W-What do you think?”
He shrugged. “If you like it, I like it.”
She beamed at him and handed the belt over to the old woman, who was accumulating quite a pile from the young lady’s shopping. The old woman tugged her over to another part of the shop.
“Come, meyn zis,” she said in her heavy accent. “See what more I have for you!”
Garret’s eyes tracked Lyssa as she scurried after the old woman, happily leafing through all the merchant had to show her. Scarves joined the pile, and more fabric, and even hose. Ribbons joined the hose. Garret knew he was about to spend a good deal of money but he truthfully didn’t care; he’d never had so much fun spending it.
It was a small price to pay for such happiness.
It was another hour before they finally left the merchant’s shop, with Garret carrying a big trunk over one broad shoulder. The trunk wasn’t full because he was certain they weren’t finished shopping, and he was right. Passing by the tanner as the street bustled around them, they noted that the man had several pairs of doe-skin slippers displayed, shoes he could size to the lady who wished to purchase them, and he sized two pairs for Lyssa. They were durable and well-made, and they joined the rest of the booty in the trunk. The trunk then went back over Garret’s shoulder as they continued down the dusty road on the hunt for more treasures.
“W-Would you like for me to help you carry the trunk?” Lyssa asked as they walked beneath the shade of a big yew tree, the only tree on the entire street. “I-It must be getting quite heavy by now.”
He looked at her, grinning. “Do you think you can carry it?”
She laughed softly. “I-I did not mean by myself,” she said. “B-But I can take one end of it and you can take the other. I-It would not be so much of a burden for you.”
He shook his head, his gaze upon her was soft. “It is no burden,” he said quietly. “It is pure joy. I have waited many years to carry my lady’s trunk.”
Lyssa gazed up at him, her cheeks flushing a gentle pink. “H-Has there ever been another lady for you?” she asked. Then, she quickly lowered her head. “T-That was a foolish question. P-Please forgive me.”
Reaching out his free hand, Garret took her fingers in his. It was bold and he knew it, to do such a thing in public but, at the moment, he didn’t much care. His bachelor’s heart was warming to this woman by leaps and bounds – her smile, her silly giggle – everything about her had him feeling like he’d never felt before. In this moment, in this space of time, he felt freer than he’d ever felt in his life, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
From a man who had been on the fringe of life and death his entire professional career, he never knew such untroubled moments existed.
“You are free to ask me whatever you wish,” he told her, his fingers fondling hers. “Nay, there has never been another lady, at least not the way you mean. In my youth, there was one young woman that I was fond of but her parents were not fond of me.”
Lyssa was very interested. “H-How is that possible? S-Surely any family would be proud to have you for their daughter.”
He shook his head. “Not this family,” he said. “It seems that I did not have the breeding and political connections that they wanted, so they married her to a man twice her age who did. The last I heard, she was still married and had twelve children.”
Lyssa’s eyes widened. “T-Twelve children?” she gasped. “G-God’s Bones, I cannot imagine having twelve children.”
He grinned. “Then you would not have twelve of my sons?”
There was teasing in the air. Lyssa played along, giving him an expression that suggested she was both shocked and frightened at the mere mention.
“T-Twelve?” she repeated. “C-Can we not negotiate this number?”
He laughed. “Absolutely not,” he said, sobering unnaturally fast. “Twelve sons. I demand it.”
The humor between them was playful, and so very natural, and a mischievous gleam came to her eye. “W-What good are so many sons?” she asked. “D-Daughters are far more valuable. T-Think of the great marriages you could make.”
He shook his head drolly. “Think of the dowries I would have to pay.”
She smiled brightly. “T-Take heart; mayhap they would not marry at all and you could save your money. M-My family has a history of spinsters, as evidenced by my Aunt Rose. I-If our daughters do not marry, then you do not have to pay anything at all.”
His eyes narrowed. “Twelve unmarried women living at home for the rest of my life?” he scoffed. “I would rather live in the barn with the horses than listen to twelve frustrated women for the rest of my days.”
Lyssa laughed at him, biting her lip and pretending not to when he looked at her. “T-Then mayhap we should reconsider having twelve children,” she said. “M-Mayhap just a few would be sufficient.”
“For my greatness? If we are only to have a few, then most definitely they must all be sons.”
“I-I should like to name the first one after me.”
He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “Lyssa? For a man?”
She laughed. “N-Nay,” she said firmly. “B-Bose. I-I have always wanted a son named for me. I-I have no brothers, so mayhap it is the only way to carry on something of my name.”
She had a point. Garret considered it. “Bose de Moray,” he muttered. “I believe I like it.”
“T-Thank you, my lord.”
“You are welcome.”
He said it rather imperiously, as if he was granting her permission, and Lyssa snorted, shaking her head at a man who believed his greatness was rooted in the number of sons he had and, better still, that he had control over what his wife would name them. But that was the way most men thought, or so she’d been told, and the truth was that she really didn’t mind. Up until a few days ago, she wasn’t sure she would ever marry much less have children, so if Garret wanted to feel as if he had control over their children and their names, then she was happy to let him.
For certain, it was all a fantastic dream just like the rest of this life she was now living.
It was magical.
But thoughts of children and marriage brought her to thoughts of their coming separation. As she’d been told, Garret had arranged for her to take a position at Lioncross Abbey Castle, seat of the great de Lohr family. As happy and thrilled as she was to be leaving Colchester, Lioncross Abbey was on the Welsh Marches and that seemed like a million miles away from London and from Garret. Certainly, it was far enough that she would not see him with any frequency and that concerned her.
“M-May I ask a question, Garret?” she asked quietly.
He looked at her. “You need not ask my permission to ask a question,” he said. “You are free to speak to me of anything you wish.”
Her smile was back, but it was soft and warm. “N-No one has ever said that to me.”
“What?”
“T-That I am free to speak. M-My mother used to tell me that my stammer made her head hurt. S-She would encourage me not to speak.”
He squeezed her fingers, still tucked in her hand. “Your stammer does not make my head hurt,” he said. “I have told you before that it makes no difference to me.”
“T-Then you are exceptionally gracious.”
“Have you ever practiced your speech without a stammer? I wonder if there are those who can teach you to speak without it.”
She shrugged. “I-I do not know. B-But I confess that sometimes I would like to speak as everyone else does. I-I have often wondered… well, if it is a habit I have never been able to break and nothing more. M-My tongue and my teeth are like anyone else’s, so I do not believe it is a defect. B-But my stammer grows worse when I am nervous or frightened, yet in times like this… I-I should not like for you to marry a woman that less-accepting men may whisper about. A-As if you have married someone… imperfect.”
He came to a halt, looking at her. “Is that what you have been told? That you are imperfect?”
Now, it was her turn to squeeze his hand. “Y-You cannot deny that my speech is less than perfect.”
He scowled. “Lyssa, I am not sure who ever told you that you were imperfect, but you are by far the most perfectly alluring and lovely woman I have ever met. I would not be courting you if I did not think so.”
The flush in her cheeks was back. “I-I suppose I am still in disbelief that so great a man should want to court me,” she said. “N-No man has ever wanted to court me. Y-You are the very first.”
“And the very last,” he told her, resuming their walk. “Never doubt that my intentions are true, Lyssa. Not ever.”
“I-I will not, I swear it.”
He tugged on her hand, gently, and ended up pulling her up against him. She wound both arms around his big right arm, holding him snuggly as they continued towards the end of the street. Lyssa could feel his big body against hers, her arms all wounded up around his muscular arm. To her, it was just like heaven. She’d never been so proud to be with anyone, a man who didn’t see any flaws in her.
Wasn’t that what love was like? She’d heard that once, that men and women in love only saw the perfection in each other. She’d known Garret all but two days but, still, she only saw the man’s perfection. To her, there was no man more handsome or more kind, and her heart felt as if it were fluttering wildly in her chest, as if it would fly away completely if she gave it the chance. Boldly, she placed her cheek against his arm, feeling the warmth of his enormous bicep against her cheek.
“A-About my question,” she said, returning to the original subject. “H-How long shall I stay at Lioncross Abbey Castle?”
They were nearing the edge of the street where there were two rather larger stalls that carried exotic merchandise from France and beyond. Garret slowed his pace as he looked at the wares on display at the stall on his right. But more than that, he was relishing the feel of Lyssa against him. God, he needed this time with her. He needed these moments with her. He looked down at her head against his arm, thinking this was what he wanted for the rest of his life – her against him, just as she was now. Trusting. Sweet.
His.
It made her question all the more difficult to answer.
“Not too long, hopefully,” he said. “There are things going on here in London that I must be part of and my responsibilities at Westminster keep me busy, so I hope it will not be too long before I can return for you.”
She was silent a moment. “W-We hardly know each other,” she said. “W-We will have to come to know each other again if I remain at Lioncross for too long.”
He had thought about that, too. That was perhaps the biggest issue he had with sending her so far away, but it could not be helped. He’d hardly spent any time with the woman but, already, he was missing her.
“It will not be so bad,” he said, trying to sound positive. “I can court you all over again. Mayhap, the time away from each other will even make you long for me and adore me all the more. You will spend your days thinking of me and your nights dreaming of me so that when I come to you again, you will fall into my arms regardless of how long it has been.”
She lifted her head from his arm, gazing up at him with those wide beautiful eyes he found utterly mesmerizing. “I will fall into your arms in any case,” she said softly, “and I shall wait every day for your return.”
He stared at her; the moment between them had become warm and fluid, swirling around them, flowing through him as if sheer energy were pulsing through every vein in his body. She was holding on to his arm but, suddenly, that arm was around her, pulling her soft body up against his. He held her; the first time he had truly held her and all he could do was look into that face and see his future reflecting in her eyes.
She was his future.
“Do you realize you just spoke to me without a stammer?” he asked huskily.
She blinked as if she did not understand the question. “T-That is not possible.”
Garret heard the stammer in her voice again and was sorry he’d mentioned it. Not that it mattered, but he did find it rather remarkable that in a moment of warmth between them, perfect speech met his ears. Perhaps she hadn’t stammered; perhaps she had and he’d only heard perfection. For certain, he was coming to think there was nothing imperfect about her in any way.
In fact, he was thinking very much on kissing her as he gazed down at the woman. Something was pulling him towards her but he didn’t want their first kiss to be a spectacle for all to see. Fighting the urge to suckle on her sweet lips, he forced himself to look away.
“Then I must have misheard you,” he said belatedly, trying to distract himself from thoughts of her tender lips, calling to him. “Shall we look at this merchant? Mayhap there is something more you would like to have.”
He started to walk but Lyssa dug her heels in. “N-Nay,” she said. “I-I have enough, truly. Y-You have already been quite generous today.”
“That is of little consequence. If you need more, we shall find what more you need.”
Lyssa shook her head, tugging on him so he wouldn’t try to force her into spending more of his money. “I-I have all I need, I assure you.” She paused. “B-But I am rather hungry. D-Do you suppose we could find something to eat?”
Garret looked around, getting his bearings of where the street was in relation to any taverns he might be aware of in the area. It was well past the nooning meal and he was a little hungry, too. Aldergate Road was just south of them and there were some popular taverns there, certainly a place where they could find a meal and perhaps spend more time to talk before he had to return her to The Wix. He knew he had to return her but, God help him, he didn’t want to be separated from her, not even to return her home. He wanted to stay just as they were, forever.
But the reality was that, at some point, a separation would come, as disappointing as it was. And another reality was that they were both hungry. He focused on the taverns that were on the street to the south and a gleam came to his eye.
“I think I know a place,” he said.
Her features lit up. “A-Another tavern? O-Or can we return to The Laughing Gravy?”
He laughed softly. “There are many taverns in London other than The Laughing Gravy,” he said. “Be adventurous. Try another one.”
“W-Will it have entertainment?”
“Possibly.”
She grinned. “I-I am in your hands, my lord. I trust you.”
His smile faded, thinking on all of the implications that statement held. She trusted him; that was a good thing. But did he trust himself around her?
Increasingly, the answer was more than likely not.
In truth, he wasn’t all that distressed about it.
*
The Drunken Cock Inn
The name was only marginally less strange than The Laughing Gravy, but Lyssa didn’t notice the odd name, the rather low-class patrons, or the smell of rubbish that seemed to come forth from the very walls. The only thing that mattered to her was the fact that the moment they entered, with Garret all but shoving people out of the way, there were two wenches standing on stools and singing loudly to a crowd of customers who were more interested in looking up the women’s skirts than in the song they were singing.
“Show us yer drunken cock, Nessie!”
Shouts like that abounded and the room would burst into laughter when the wenches would lift their skirts to their knees, teasingly, but no higher. It was naughty fun, Lyssa thought, but Garret wasn’t so sure. Before they even found a table inside the crowded inn, he was starting to think that it wasn’t such a good idea to bring Lyssa to such a bawdy place. When he thought to suggest that they perhaps find their meal elsewhere, he looked down at Lyssa and caught the expression on her face. Pure, unadulterated joy.
There was no way she was leaving.
With a grunt of resignation, he found a table for them back near the window overlooking the street. Trouble was, there were already people there and he’d had to forcibly remove them as Lyssa stood by with big eyes, watching Garret toss two men away from the table and then challenging them to fight back. Wisely, they didn’t, and Garret confiscated the table for Lyssa, tossing the remains of the previous meal onto the floor and then bellowing for a serving wench. Two women scrambled in his direction.
“What’ll it be, m’lord?” the older of the pair asked. She was round, with wild red hair, and missing teeth. “A drink for you and your lady?”
Garret nodded, setting the trunk on to the ground at his feet and shoving it partially under the table. “What do you have that is good?” he asked. “And I do not mean the cheap product the rest of the room is drinking. What do you have that costs money?”
The wench’s gaze moved over Garret, then to Lyssa, and back again. She knew customers and could tell that the knight had money to spend. “This lot is drinking ale we brew in the stable,” she said. “It tastes like horses. But for you… there is some good Spanish wine we keep just for men such as yourself.”
“Bring it. And what do you have to eat?”
As the younger wench went running for the wine, the older wench cocked her head. “This lot has been eating boiled mutton that’s a week old,” she said, snorting at the thought of people not caring what they were ingesting. “But the tavernkeeper’s wife just made a brymlent. It smells good!”
Garret frowned. “What is that?”
Lyssa spoke up. “A-A fish and fruit pie,” she said. “I-If it is made correctly, it is quite good.”
He looked at her, unsure he wanted to try a fish and fruit pie, but he waved the older wench onward. “Bring that, too,” he said, “and anything else you have in the kitchens that might be good to eat.”
The older wench sauntered away. As Lyssa watched the singing wenches finish their song, Garret removed his heavy leather gloves and kicked the trunk even further underneath the table. He didn’t want to advertise the fact that he had a trunk full of goods to the thieving rabble that undoubtedly populated a place like this. In fact, he started looking around, seeing the clientele, and turned to Lyssa.
“I can find a better tavern for you,” he said, trying to press his point again. “I have been to this place before but only with my men, so it did not occur to me that it is not a place for a lady.”
But Lyssa grinned. “I-I think it is fascinating,” she said. “B-Besides… nothing can happen to me with my protector about. I-I am not concerned.”
He looked at her and, seeing the smile on her face, gave in to the urge to put his arm around her. He’d been so careful displaying his affection up until this point, or at least moderately careful. But in this establishment full of the dregs of London, he saw no reason not to show his fondness for the lady. He was finished showing restraint. Therefore, a big arm went around her, pulling her chair right up against his.
“Your faith in me is flattering, my lady,” he said, his voice low as his face came very close to hers. “I shall always endeavor to earn it.”
Lyssa’s heart was fluttering wildly as his big arm went around her, pulling her close. He was being open with his affections and she was so thrilled with it that she was nearly lightheaded. It was difficult to catch her breath. She found herself staring at his face, the lines of his angular jaw, a dark beard with flecks of silver in it, but it was more of a beard that comes about when a man hasn’t shaved in a few days. It wasn’t a truly cultivated or heavy beard. Just enough to give him a rather rugged look. Somewhere beneath that beard, she could see skin that had been marred by eruptions in his youth, but it didn’t take away from his masculine beauty. And when she looked into those black eyes… eyes blacker than night… it was as if she had no will of her own. It brought something Juliana had once told her to mind.
“I-I was told that you are called Kronos, the Father of the Gods,” she said. “J-Juliana told me that on the night I met you. L-Looking at you now, it is very easy to believe that.”
A flicker of a smile crossed his lips. “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged, reaching out a timid hand to touch the beard on his face, finding it scratchy like bristles. “B-Because there is something about you that speaks of power,” she said. “I-I am not sure if I can describe it, but I feel as if… as if you are a man of such depth and experience, that surely a man like that is not finite.”
Garret took one of her hands and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently. As much as Lyssa’s heart was racing, his was racing all the more. She had that effect on him. “I am, indeed, mortal,” he said softly. “A man of mortal feelings and hopes and dreams. Until I met you, I never realized I even had such capabilities.”
Now, the warmth and attraction that had always been present between them was turning into something more. It was giving them permission to touch one another, to discover each other on a deeper level with a gentle touch or, in Lyssa’s case, with a hand to Garret’s face to feel his beard for the first time. It was exploration in the greatest sense of the word as Garret kissed her fingers again, smiling at her when she tickled his cheek through his scratchy beard. It was excitement and delight in its purest form as two lonely people realized they weren’t alone anymore.
Now, they had each other.
“W-What do you hope for, Garret?” she asked, trying not to speak loudly but the noise of the tavern room made the situation not quite as romantic as it could have been. “D-Do you wish for a peaceful life after we are married? O-Or will you continue your duties at Westminster?”
He took the hand that he was holding and pressed her palm against his face, acquainting himself with the touch and feel of her against his flesh.
“I have duties and responsibilities to Richard,” he said. “But I want to make you happy, also. I suppose I’ve not thought much of it. But, for the time being, I intend to continue my duties at Westminster. I have an apartment there where we may live, but I also have lands in Wiltshire given to me by Richard.”
Lyssa cocked her head curiously. “I-I was not aware.”
He nodded. “I told your aunt, but I suppose I’ve not yet had the opportunity to tell you. I hold Ravendark Castle near Salisbury along with the titles of Lord Ravendark and Lockerley. You, my lady, shall be Lady Lockerley when we are married. You will be a woman of standing and of wealth. No woman has deserved such a thing more.”
She smiled at his flattery. “I-I would marry you with only the clothes you are wearing,” she said. “T-Titles and wealth are of little matter to me. A-As long as I have you, that is all I am concerned with.”
A sweet, beautiful woman without ambition? Garret could hardly believe it. That wasn’t the world he came from and he was certain that wasn’t the world she came from, either. To be unaffected by such things was rare, indeed, and her words touched him. Leaning forward, he kissed her sweetly on the lips. He simply couldn’t help it.
But it had been a mistake. Instantly, he was drunk with the taste of her and he pulled her up against him as his lips slanted over hers. Here, in the middle of a common room with the rabble and rubbish of London as witnesses, he’d made their first kiss a spectacle for them to see. But he hardly cared; all he cared about was the feel and taste of Lyssa up against him. Never in his life had he been so intoxicated with the first taste of anything… or anyone.
But somewhere, somehow, his common sense gained control from his lust and he forced himself to pull away from her with a groan.
“God’s Bones,” he muttered. “I am sorry if that was an unwelcome advance. I do not know what came over me… nay, that is not true. I do know what has come over me. You have come over me. And I shall do that again if the opportunity presents itself, so consider yourself warned.”
Lyssa looking at him with a mixture of surprise and lust. “You have my permission to do so, any time.”
The catch in her voice was gone again. Or was it? Garret still wasn’t sure if he was imagining such a thing, but he hardly cared. In moments of extreme warmth, or affection, she seemed to lose it. Or maybe he just stopped hearing it. He smiled faintly at her.
“Then I shall kiss you, whenever and wherever I can,” he murmured. “However, there is a problem.”
“What?”
“I promised your aunt that I would behave. It seems that I have gone back on my promise. Furthermore, she threatened me if I should forget my promise. Now, I fear for my life.”
Lyssa laughed softly. “I-I will not tell her, I swear it.”
He grinned because she was. But quickly, his smile faded. “Lyssa….”
He trailed off and she looked at him, expectantly. “W-What is it?”
He sighed heavily. “I… I have a confession,” he said. “I do not know if I can take you to Lioncross Abbey. The more I think on it, the more reluctant I am to do it. I do not know if I can stand being away from you for so long.”
Her smile faded also and he could see some fear in her eyes. “N-Nor I,” she whispered. “I-I have been thinking the same thing. I-I said something about it earlier – how we would not know each other when next we saw one another and… o-oh, Garret, must I truly go? W-Why can I not stay here, with you?”
He pursed his lips, rather sadly, and sat back in his chair. “You could not stay with me if we were not married,” he said. “Your aunt would cut off my… well, let us say that she would cut off something that we both need if we are going to have twelve sons.”
Lyssa knew what he meant and her smile was back, embarrassing though it might have been. “S-She would not have reason to if we were married,” she said hesitantly. “I-I know it is foolish and forward to even say such a thing, but….”
He cut her off. “You are not alone in your thinking, sweetheart. I have been thinking the same thing. But to marry after having known each other for three days… it will appear foolish and rushed. People would talk.”
Lyssa shook her head. “L-Let them,” she said. “T-They will, anyway. T-They will speak of Westminster’s captain marrying a foolish lass with a catch in her speech, but I do not care what they say. W-We know this is not a foolish or rushed endeavor. I-If it is right in our hearts and if we feel strongly about it, then it surely cannot be wrong.”
She made a good deal of sense but Garret was torn. He was afraid he was being susceptible to silly romantic whims and afraid that he was thinking with his heart and not his head. Or, his loins in this case. He was afraid he was thinking with everything else but the great wisdom he was known for.
Still… he knew he wanted to marry Lyssa. He had from the start. He would only wait months or even years for propriety’s sake, not because he wasn’t certain of his feelings for her. Those wouldn’t change, not ever. If he married her now or in a year, he would still feel the same for her. Probably more so.
So… what was he afraid of?
More than likely, how it would look for Lyssa. Men would say terrible things about a woman who married a man after only having known him a few days. But he knew the truth, and so would she, so they shouldn’t care what men said of either of them.
If ever there was a time for him to display his bravery in a matter, it would be now.
“Is that what you want, then?” he finally asked. “To marry me now?”
Lyssa wasn’t sure if he was agreeable to the idea. He sounded hesitant. “N-Not if you do not wish to,” she said hurried. “I-It is not my intention to suggest anything you do not wish to do, but….”
He interrupted her. “That was not the question. Do you want to marry me now?”
She was looking at him fearfully, afraid of giving him the wrong answer. “N-Not if you do not….”
He stopped her again. “Let me rephrase the question,” he said. “Lyssa, will you marry me now? Would you be agreeable?”
She was coming to see what he meant and a spark of warmth, of understanding, glimmered in her eyes. “A-Aye,” she said. “I-If you are, then I am.”
He smiled, a gesture that ended up overtaking his entire face. He pulled her into his embrace, squeezing her tightly, as men at the table next to them suddenly began throwing punches. Bumped from behind, Garret released Lyssa, stood up, and promptly dropped all three men who had started a fistfight. All three fools fell victim to his big fists, one after another, and Garret didn’t even raise a sweat. As the men wallowed on the floor, the crowd took notice and began to cheer Garret.
But it turned into something of a spectacle. Men began running at Garret, daring him to drop them with one punch while still others were willing to make bets about it. Dismayed, Lyssa could not believe the disrespect and foolery she was seeing. Garret tried to take his seat next to her again but drunken men would not allow it, instead, trying to pull him into some kind of fighting game. He was annoyed, she could see that, but she also suspected he was trying to contain his impatience because he didn’t want to start a massive brawl in front of her. As this was going on, their food arrived and, in the midst of the chaos, Lyssa stood up and barked.
“Stop!” she snapped. All of the men near the table, including Garret, turned to look at her with surprise but Lyssa wouldn’t back down. She pointed at the men who were trying to goad Garret. “Y-You; get away from him this instant. D-Do you not know who he is? H-He is a champion for King Richard and far beyond your childish fighting games. B-Be gone with you, idiots. I-I will not tell you again!”
In that instant, Garret could see that whatever commanding presence Rose had, Lyssa had it, too. She had a firm no-nonsense manner that was vastly surprising, one that made both men and women instantly inclined to do her bidding. Truth was, Garret had no idea she could summon such a presence and as he grinned, the men trying to bait him into a punching game slinked away, unwilling to take on the angry lady. Lyssa followed them somewhat, jabbing a finger at one man who tried to turn around, perhaps to plead one last time with the big knight. But his lady was having no part of it, so he ducked his head and scampered away like the rest of them. When Lyssa was certain they would not try to come at Garret again, she turned to him.
“T-There,” she said, brushing off her hands. “N-Now they will leave you in peace. I-I am famished.”
Garret was grinning wide enough to split his face in two. He grasped her by the arm, gently, before she could take her seat.
“That was a remarkable thing to witness, my lady,” he said. “No one can get the better of you, can they?”
She returned his smile, sheepishly. “Y-You may as well know that I am quick to temper sometimes,” she said. “F-Foolishness always angers me.”
“I would like to think that you were defending me.”
“I-I would kill anyone who tried to hurt you or make a fool of you, Garret. A-As long as there was breath in my body, I would not allow it.”
Garret’s heart melted away, like butter on a hot pan. He’d never in his life had anyone think so well of him, or at least someone he thought well of in return.
“Your chivalry is without compare, my lady, and I am deeply grateful. I also think we do not want to tempt fate in case those men you chased away try to return.” He suddenly looked to the two serving wenches who were setting the food out on their table. “My lady and I do not wish to eat down here with all of this noise and madness. Are there any private rooms available in the tavern?”
The older wench with the bushy red hair pointed to the level above them. “Only sleeping rooms, m’lord,” she said. “There’s no place private for you to eat.”
“Then we shall take a sleeping room for the evening,” he said, motioning to the food on the table. “Take all of this up to one of your rooms. That is where the lady and I shall eat.”
Quickly, the food was gathered up and Garret took Lyssa by the hand, leading her through the riff-raff that was crammed into the common room of the tavern. He suddenly remembered the trunk under the table. He paused to grab the trunk and then led Lyssa up the narrow stairs that led to a second floor above.
It smelled like rubbish up here, too, but at least it was quieter, and it was definitely more private. From the smoky noise of the common room to the sudden quietness of the upper floors, Lyssa held tight to Garret’s hand as the two serving wenches took them to one of the very last rooms, a tiny room with a tiny bed and a tiny table with two stools. There was a hearth, but it wasn’t lit, and one of the women kindled a blaze as the other laid out the meal.
Meanwhile, Garret and Lyssa stood in the doorway, watching all of the activity, until Garret became impatient and chased the women away. He had no tolerance for lingering servants. Gallantly bowing to Lyssa as he extended his hand into the chamber, she giggled as she entered. He came in behind her, set the trunk down and closed the door quietly, bolting it. Lyssa turned to him.
“D-Did you really do this so I would not pick a fight with those men in the common room?” she asked. “I-It will not stop me. If I want to fight with them, I will.”
He laughed deeply. “As much as that would be great entertainment, I would much rather spend our last few hours together alone and not with an audience. I hope you do not mind that I asked for a private chamber.”
Lyssa shook her head, looking around. She couldn’t help but see the bed because it was right next to her and she wondered if Garret had plans for it. He didn’t seem like the type to push himself on a woman, but the truth was that she didn’t know him very well. Three days wasn’t enough time to come to know the character of a man but, somehow, she didn’t think this was some elaborate plan to bed her. She believed him when he said he had only been seeking privacy.
“I-I do not,” she said, sitting down on one of the stools. “I-In fact, I am glad for this. Now we can say what we please and not have to shout over the cries of men demanding that the serving wenches lift their skirts.”
He was forced to agree as he sat his bulk down on the other stool, which could hardly contain it. “I do apologize for that,” he said. “I suggested that we go somewhere else, twice.”
“I-I know.”
“It was rather unseemly of me to bring you to a place of such ribald entertainment.”
She chuckled as she pulled off the cloth covering the food; a big display of fish and fruit pie, cheese, bread and butter was spread out before them along with a big pitcher of the potent Spanish wine. She handed him one of the big, flat knives on the tray and took the other for herself.
“I-I do not mind,” she said, stabbing the knife into the pie and pulling forth a steaming bite of the contents. “I-It was rather fun. I-In fact, all of this has been the best time I have ever had. A-And I have spent it with you.”
He glanced up from buttering his bread, his gaze soft upon her. “There will be many more times such as this,” he said. “We shall be married in the morning and all of this madness with Colchester shall be forgotten. We shall start a new life together at Westminster and, when time permits, I shall take you to Ravendark. I believe you will like it a great deal; it is a smaller castle but rich with commerce and livestock. And the land upon which it sits is quite lovely. Permit me tell you about it.”
He did. Between bites of fish and fig pie, Lyssa listened, enthralled, as Garret told her story after story of Ravendark, of the people who lived there, his vassals, before starting in on his travels from The Levant. The man talked more than she’d ever known him to, telling about his life, his properties, and his adventures.
The more he drank, the more he talked, and the more she drank and ate. It was an evening Lyssa would never forget, listening to a man who had seemingly lived a thousand adventures and looking forward to her life with Garret more than she had ever anticipated anything, ever. There was so much ahead for them both, two people who were glad to have finally found a companion in life. It was the most beautiful evening Lyssa could ever remember.
But for someone else in the common room below, the evening hadn’t been beautiful… it had been life-altering.
Jago had been in a corner of the common room, negotiating a price with one of the whores for her fourteen-year-old daughter, when he’d seen Garret and Lyssa enter. To say that he was surprised to see Lady Lyssa in the company of Rickard de Moray’s brother was an understatement, but that surprise turned to confusion, and confusion to anger. He could hardly believe it.
Lady Lyssa is here.…
Jago had no idea what the woman was doing with Garret de Moray when she had no business being out of The Wix. He’d been made to feel like a dirty criminal for even touching the woman because his wife had been unhappy about it. It was Grace’s job to protect her virginal ladies, so why had Grace permitted Lady Lyssa to go out in public with Rickard’s brother? It didn’t make any sense to him.
But very quickly, something did… he came to realize that Garret de Moray was no ordinary escort. Jago became aware of that fact the first time he saw the man put his arm around Lyssa and, soon enough, he kissed her. But it wasn’t any kiss; it was something deep and hungry. Even from his table, Jago could see it.
De Moray kissed her like a lover.
Now, Jago was coming to understand something about Lady Lyssa. The light of realization went on in his warped brain, brighter than the sun. She pretended to be chaste and she had everyone at The Wix believing it, but the truth was that she was not the virgin she pretended to be. Clearly, she was even some type of courtesan, only giving herself to the great generals of King Richard’s stable, for that was what Garret de Moray was – one of Richard’s most powerful knights.
The woman was a courtesan.
A whore.
Now, it all made sense, and it was all the better for him. If she was a courtesan, then she knew how to please a man, and he was tired of bedding women who would simply lay there like a great lump of lard. He wanted a woman who would pleasure him, something Lady Lyssa would undoubtedly know how to do.
The desire to have the woman grew tenfold as he watched her interact with Garret de Moray. When the man finally took her upstairs, Jago grew hard merely thinking on what de Moray was doing to her. She was a petite woman and de Moray was a very big man, with an undoubtedly large manhood, and Jago began to stroke himself beneath the table as he thought on de Moray plundering Lady Lyssa’s tender body with his big manhood. Plunging into her tender folds, again and again, listening to her cries of pleasure. Or were they cries of pain? Jago preferred the ones of pain.
It made him feel as if he were getting the job done.
Jago only hoped that Garret left enough of Lyssa for others to enjoy her, because Jago certainly intended to do that. And if she didn’t agree… they’d have to drag the river for her body.
He wasn’t going to let the whore refuse him twice.