Chapter Seven
The Meadery
St. Agnes
By the time Samarra reached St. Agnes, her head was killing her and she wasn’t feeling very well in general, but at least her confusion had left her for the most part. Now, she was thinking clearly and the biggest thing on her mind was the powerful knight who was riding ahead of her.
She’d been watching that silver-arsed horse for the better part of an hour and a half, hypnotized by the swaying of the beast as she relived every single moment of her life since the moment she first met Rhodes de Leybourne. She remembered thinking when she first met him how he was different from any man she’d ever met, how he treated her differently and with a kindness she’d never before known. A knight of his caliber had every reason to treat her like dirt, because she was in a sense. Her family name had meant something, once, but it didn’t any longer. Now, the name le Brecque stood for cutthroats and thieves. It was something that had never concerned Samarra until now.
Until she met Rhodes.
Now, she was in a world of confusion and misery – confusion over who she was and what she’d become in life, and misery over meeting a man she could never hope to have. As their small group entered St. Agnes and came to a halt at a large tavern called The Meadery, Samarra was simply going through the motions. She didn’t even really know why she was here. If Rhodes didn’t want to leave her, then perhaps she needed to leave him simply to keep her dignity intact. She would send his father’s money back to him without an explanation. Samarra never believed there was a job she couldn’t handle but, in this case, Rhodes de Leybourne proved to be too much, on many different levels.
The Meadery was a two-storied establishment that was the biggest one in the village, but the structure was an oddity. The ground level was a massive common room with a wooden floor because a second level, a sub-ground level, had been dug below it into the side of the hill that The Meadery was situated upon. There were more people down in the sub-level and there were also sleeping rooms there, dug like caves into the side of the hill.
It was a loud, unusual place, smelling of smoke and of the earth that comprised the floor and walls of most of the structure. Rhodes had Samarra by the arm as he led her into the establishment, her men drifting in behind them.
At midday, the tavern was about half-full so they had their choice of tables for the most part. As Rhodes pulled Samarra over to a table near the only window in the entire place, he turned to her men and pointed to another table that was nearby. It was clear that Rhodes wanted to be alone with Samarra, and her men reluctantly did as the big knight indicated. Settling down at another table several feet away, they immediately began calling for the tavern wench.
Big, handsome Rhodes didn’t even have to summon a wench – the one nearest to them drifted in his direction in spite of an entire table of dirty, rough-looking men that were calling for her. As Rhodes pulled out a chair for Samarra and practically shoved her into it, the wench sauntered up and smiled at him.
“What’ll it be, good lord?” she asked.
Rhodes plopped down on the chair next to Samarra. “What kind of fare are you offering today?”
The wench braced her arms on the table, leaning forward to give Rhodes an ample view of her cleavage. “Fresh fish,” she said. “Cook roles it in flour and fries it. We also have fruit pies, mince pies, cabbage pottage and a fish stew.”
Rhodes ignored the cleavage she was trying very hard to show him. “Bring it all,” he told her. “And bring your finest mead. You will also bring food over to those fools who are desperately trying to gain your attention.”
He indicated the table of Samarra’s men and the wench could see that the big knight had no interest in her soft breasts. Disappointed, she looked over at the table nearby, men who were still waving her over. “Are they with you?”
“They are.”
The wench simply nodded and headed off to the kitchens to bring forth the food. As she scooted away, Rhodes turned to Samarra.
“And you,” he said. “I would imagine you would like to wash that filth off of you.”
He pulled a leaf out of her hair, tossing it to the floor, and Samarra looked down at herself. She was stained with the dirty water that had nearly claimed her life.
“Mayhap later,” she said. Then, she eyed him. “I do not understand why we are here. Did you not hear me tell you that your father would be waiting here for you?”
Rhodes nodded. “I heard you.”
“Then why did you come?”
“Does it matter? Isn’t it enough that I am here?”
“But why?”
He sighed faintly; he supposed, in a sense, she deserved some answers. It was because of her that he was here, after all.
“Because it occurred to me that if I do not come to St. Agnes, with you, you will have broken your bargain with my father,” he said. “I should not like for you to appear dishonorable in his eyes. One of us being dishonorable to a bargain is quite enough.”
Samarra was rather touched that he would be concerned for what might be perceived as her lack of honor. “You mean your resistance to the marital contract?”
“I do, indeed.”
She watched him as he rubbed at the red welts her ropes had left on his big wrists. “Then what will you do when he comes?” she asked. “He told me you were to meet your betrothed here so that you could both travel to the caves and touch the bloodstains upon the walls. Do you now intend to go through with it?”
Rhodes stopped rubbing the welts on his wrists and looked at her. “Nay,” he said flatly. “I was hoping to speak with my father one last time to try and convince him to dissolve the contract.”
Samarra found herself gazing into his big, blue eyes, perhaps a bit dreamily. “But you could have run when I released you and you would not have to do any of this,” she said. “Your father wants you to marry this girl, so strongly that he hired me to ensure you upheld his bargain. I do not believe that speaking to him one last time will convince him to change his mind. You are at St. Agnes, where he wanted you to be. If you did not intend to go through with it, then why did you come here?”
“I told you why.”
“But I still do not understand why you should be concerned with my honor over your freedom.”
Rhodes opened his mouth to speak but the wench had returned with a big pitcher of mead and two cups. She set it on the table in front of them and Rhodes took the pitcher and poured a full measure for both him and Samarra. As the wench headed over to the table where Samarra’s men were demanding she pay attention to them, Rhodes picked up his cup.
“Drink,” he instructed Samarra. “You need it.”
Samarra already had the cup in hand, lifting it to her lips. It was black mead, or honey mead blended with black currants, and it was very strong. But after the first sip, she realized how thirsty she was and downed nearly the entire cup purely out of thirst, regardless of the strength of the drink. Rhodes was right; she needed it.
Rhodes, however, was watching her with raised eyebrows. The drink was strong, even for him, and he watched her as she poured a second cup and nearly drained that one, too. When she went to pour a third cup, he put a hand on her fingers to stop her.
“Easy,” he said quietly. “The drink is very strong. You are well on your way to becoming drunk quite quickly.”
Truth was, Samarra could already feel the alcohol in her veins, the warmth filling her belly and radiating outward into her limbs.
“I do not care,” she said flatly. “I deserve to be drunk. For almost losing my life in a bog, being drunk is the very least of my worries. It is a celebration. In fact, it proves to me that I am alive.”
Rhodes watched her down about half of the third cup, knowing she was going to become very drunk, very fast, if she kept this up. Without saying another word to her about it, he waved the wench over from the other table, asking for boiled fruit juice to cut the mead with. When Samarra heard him, she frowned.
“I will not have you telling me how to drink,” she said. “No one tells me what to do.”
Rhodes tried not to grin. “I cannot imagine they do.”
“Then why are you cutting my drink?”
“Because you are drinking it too fast. If you are not careful, you will make an arse out of yourself.”
She sat back in her chair, scowling at him. “I have already made an arse out of myself.”
“How?”
“Because I permitted an outlaw to nearly kill me.”
“There is no shame in that. He was bigger and stronger than you are, but you gave him a gallant fight. I saw it.”
She didn’t like that answer. “I was weak,” she muttered, taking another big gulp of her drink. Now, she was really starting to feel the alcohol. “I was weak to let him best me so that you had to rush to my rescue. If it had not been for you, I would be dead.”
Rhodes patted her hand simply to quiet her down because her voice was becoming loud. “It was of no matter,” he said. “You would have done the same for me.”
She took her nose out of her cup and looked at him. “You are right,” she said. “I would have. And do you know why?”
“Why?”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Because I admire you, de Leybourne. You are a noble knight and I did not realize that until now. You are a great man of great deeds. I will wager that your liege is sorely missing you right now.”
Rhodes was encouraged by her words; they touched him. “That sounds like flattery to me,” he said. “You must admire me a great deal to tell me such things.”
She nodded. “I do,” she said sincerely. “I admire you and I also like you. You have been kind to me in a way that not many have been. In fact, I cannot remember the last man who was as kind to me as you have been. Even when you thought I was a whore, still, you were kind to me. You suggested taking me to London. Now I want to go with you to London and see the marvelous plays you have spoken of, but if you marry this wench you have been promised to, then I will not be able to. You have said so yourself.”
Rhodes watched her as she poured herself more mead, spilling some of it on the table. He should have stopped her but, in truth, he didn’t want to; it seemed that alcohol loosened the woman’s tongue and he was hearing things from her he’d never heard before. This serious, professional, and deadly young woman evidently had a great many thoughts that she kept to herself. She was revealing her heart, something Rhodes had seriously wondered about, and he liked what he heard.
He liked it because he was having much the same feelings about her.
“I would not dare disappoint such a lady,” Rhodes said, his voice soft. “If you want to go to London, then we shall.”
“But what about your wife?”
“Who is to say that I will not marry you? That way, we can go to London and do a great many things, and it will not matter, as you shall be my wife.”
Samarra’s dark eyebrows lifted with great surprise. “Your wife?”
“Is that such a terrible idea?”
She was clearly shocked. She nodded. Then, quickly, she shook her head. “How can you say such a thing?” she demanded. “It is cruel to suggest it!”
His grin broke through. “Why is it cruel? I am serious, Samarra. I would not jest on a subject as serious as this.”
The shock on her face grew, then faded, replaced by a distinct expression of misery. “You are mad!”
“I am quite sane.”
“Drunken lunacy!”
“I assure you, I am sober and sane.”
She didn’t believe him. “But… I told you who I am,” she said, tears forming in her great hazel eyes. “My brother is the leader of Poseidon’s Legion. My father was also a pirate. My family name stood for something, once. It did not always stand for the dregs of our society. But that was before poverty and desperation took hold after King Edward stripped my ancestor of his lands over one hundred years ago. Once, we had wealth and station. My ancestor, the one who angered Edward II, was Baron Newlyn. His lands stretched from St. Agnes all the way up to Newquay. But everything was taken from him so our family resorted to do whatever they had to in order to survive. You are a great and noble knight, de Leybourne. It would not be fitting for you to marry into such a family.”
He was smiling at her, a lazy sort of smile that suggested he wasn’t concerned with anything she was saying.
“I think it would be a perfect marriage,” he said. “I would have a beautiful, intelligent wife who could best me in a fight. You match me insult for insult. What fun we would have!”
Samarra was becoming increasingly horrified by the subject matter. She abruptly set the cup down and started to push up from the table, but Rhodes was fast. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled, trying to force her to sit back down. In her drunken state, however, she ended up tripping and landing awkwardly in his lap. When she tried to right herself, if not remove herself completely, Rhodes’ big arms went around her and held her fast.
She was trapped.
“Let me go,” she breathed, quivering at his closeness. “Release me this instant!”
Rhodes wasn’t about to release her, not for all of the money his father had and then some. She was warm and firm, and those long legs of hers were alluring. Already, he could feel his lust beginning to flow because his fascination with her was undeniable. He could imagine those long legs wrapped up around him as he made love to her, and that lust, that interest, had been there from the start of their acquaintance and had only gotten stronger with each passing hour.
Now, he was going to explore it. He had her exactly where he wanted her.
“I will, in time,” he said, his mouth somewhere near her nose from the way he was holding her. Her big eyes were right in his line of sight. “But first, I want you to tell me something.”
Samarra was torn between the thrill of his embrace and the embarrassment of being there. She wasn’t one to be held in public and especially not in front of her men. But Rhodes had her wrapped up so tightly that it would do no good to struggle. Truthfully, it wasn’t as if she wanted to.
“What do you want to know?” she asked.
Rhodes didn’t hold back. He had hold of something he wanted, very badly, and nothing made more sense to him at the moment. “If you were to marry, why could it not be to a man like me?” he asked. “You have said yourself that you admired me. Would it not make sense to marry someone you admired?”
His warmth was overwhelming her and she could feel his steady, firm breathing against her body. It would be so easy to….
“It would,” she said, struggling to answer his question and not allow herself to become swept away with fantasies of his hard body against hers. “It would make the marriage most pleasant.”
“Then why would you not consider marrying me?”
“Because you are already betrothed.”
He snorted. “It is my father’s contract, not mine,” he told her. “You know that. I will not marry the girl and if my father doesn’t like it, then he can marry her himself. As for me, I intend to continue on to London and I want you to go with me. I cannot explain it, Samarra, but from the moment I met you… I was drawn to you as I have never been drawn to anyone in my life. You are proud and beautiful and bright. Let me be the one to put you in jewels and fine clothing. Let me be the one to treat you as you were meant to be treated. Will you not at least consider it?”
With the alcohol pounding through her veins, Samarra had absolutely no self-control. Her inhibitions were gone, as was that carefully-held manner she always kept about her, the tough woman who wasn’t afraid of anything. But knowing that Rhodes was offering her exactly what she had been dreaming of… that frightened her. She was afraid to give in to her dreams.
But, oh… she wanted them so badly.
“I… I do not know,” she murmured, gazing into his eyes. “What happens when you tire of me?”
He frowned. “You?” he repeated, aghast. “Never! Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because I cannot believe a knight like you would be interested in a woman like me.”
His grin broadened and he leaned forward, kissing her gently on the tip of her nose and feeling her shudder in response. “I would never grow tired of a woman like you,” he murmured, kissing her cheek and listening to her groan under her breath. “I’ve spent my entire life searching for something to fill me; I have always been a dreamer, a wanderer, looking for something to make me happy. My father used to say I was searching for a land of gold. Mayhap I was. Of course, every man has his own sense of paradise and happiness, but it seems to me that I was searching for the wrong thing all along.”
His kisses were driving her mad and Samarra no longer cared if her men were watching. She didn’t care if the entire tavern was watching; she turned to putty in Rhodes’ arms, becoming boneless and limp as his mouth drifted over her cheek. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was positive he could hear it.
“W-What do you mean?” she whispered.
He finally made it to her mouth, gently kissing the corner of it. “Mayhap, it was not a place I was searching for,” he murmured. “Mayhap, it was a person.”
Samarra could barely breathe as he kissed the corner of her mouth again. “Who?”
“You.”
With that, he slanted his lips over hers, kissing her deeply. She was warm and sweet, but mixed in with that deliciousness was also the taste of that brackish swamp water. He could smell it as well as taste it, but it didn’t deter him. The woman had started a wildfire within him the likes of which he’d never experienced and he was determined to have her, any way he could.
But as he kissed her, thoughts of his father crept over him. He’d come to St. Agnes without reservation, knowing his father would be here soon if he wasn’t already, and Rhodes was determined to tell him one last time that he had no intention of marrying Lyonette. But Lyonette and her father were to be here, as well, according to Samarra. That meant more men, more soldiers, who would be able to stop him from leaving when he wanted to. They might even strong-arm him to the church and force him to marry the girl. That thought alone brought him to a pause. Samarra and her eight men would be no match for his father, his father’s men, and all of the de Sansen men.
Perhaps coming here had been a mistake, after all.
“Listen to me,” he said as he pulled his mouth away from hers. “I am coming to agree with you. Mayhap, it was not wise to come here. I came because I did not want you to lose honor in my father’s eyes, but now… now I want to leave here, with you, and never return. Will you come with me? Will you be my wife, Samarra?”
Drunk and swooning, Samarra was having difficulty absorbing what he was telling her. She was still lingering on that scorching kiss that had nearly drained the life from her. But eventually, his words sank in and she took a deep breath, struggling to collect herself.
“Leave?” she repeated. “With you?”
“With me. Will you go?”
Will you go? Those words rang in her head as she looked at him and, at that moment, they were the most beautiful words she had ever heard. All of her fears, her reservations fled until there was nothing left but Rhodes and his handsome face, asking her a question she had never expected to hear.
Will you go…?
Now, she was willing to believe in her dreams.
“Aye,” she breathed, nodding her head as much as her drunken state would allow. “But there is something you should know. It may change your mind.”
“What is it?”
“I… I have been married before, long ago. He was lost at sea.”
He shook his head. “It matters not to me.”
She felt some relief at that statement. “Are you certain?”
“Never more certain of anything.”
A smile played on her lips, one of joy and relief. “Then I will go with you. Now?”
“Now.”
Rhodes released her, setting her on her feet and steadying her when she couldn’t quite seem to keep her balance. Samarra gripped the table as Rhodes grabbed his saddlebags from their place by his feet, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at her men crowded around a nearby table.
“But what of my men?” she asked. “I simply cannot leave them here. What do I tell them?”
Rhodes dug into one of the saddlebags and pulled forth a leather pouch, weighing it in his hand. Satisfied with the contents, he tossed it to her.
“Give this to them and tell them to return to Mithian Castle,” he said. “That is enough money to keep them fed for a while.”
Samarra turned to look at her men, men who had been with her since she had been a young girl. Could she really do this? Could she leave them to run away with Rhodes? They were loyal men, good men as far as mercenaries went, but the moment she turned around to look at Rhodes again, she realized that she was more than willing to leave them behind.
Truth be told, there wasn’t anything for her at Mithian other than sad memories of a long-dead husband and a hunger to survive. There was her brother, too, but she hardly saw the man. He was always at sea. The Lady of the Moon had done quite well in making her way in life as a paid sword but, much like Rhodes had explained, it was as if there had been something missing from her life. She was never truly happy doing what she was doing, living the life she lived. She always thought it was the absence of her dead husband, but perhaps it was more than that.
Perhaps, it was a hunger for a new future with a man she was wildly enamored with. Much like Rhodes, she had been searching for a land of gold that she’d never been able to find.
Until now.
“Very well,” she said. “But these are not your men. Why do you give them money?”
He stood up, towering over her. “Because when I marry you, they will, indeed, become my men,” he said. “Better they know now that it is a generous master who has taken their Missy away from them.”
Samarra grinned as he used their name for her. “They will have difficulty understanding it,” she admitted. “Mayhap, we are being too impulsive.”
Rhodes pulled her into his arms, so enchanted with this woman that he could hardly verbalize it. “I do not act impulsively,” he said huskily. “When I make a decision, it is because I know it is the right one. Sometimes it takes me minutes to come to that conclusion, sometimes years, but my choices are never impulsive ones. I always do what I think is right. Do you trust me?”
Samarra had never been held like this, consumed by a big, muscular man whose warmth and strength wrapped up around her. Full of strong mead though she might have been, she wasn’t so tipsy that she didn’t understand the deliciousness of the situation or the excitement of it. That giddy woman she had been trying so hard to suppress in the presence of Rhodes was now free to say or do what she liked.
And she didn’t care in the least.
“Aye,” she murmured. “I trust you.”
Rhodes smiled at her, a seductive gesture that had her heart racing. “That is good to know.”
He was too close not to taste her lips again, her warm musk that he was quickly coming to crave. He pulled her closer against him, tighter, and had just slid his tongue into her welcoming mouth when he heard his name.
Actually, it was a shout.
“Rhodes! What are you doing to that woman?”
No one had to tell Rhodes that his father had just arrived at the tavern. Strangely enough, he already knew.