Chapter 5
Jessimond finished the last stitch and tied it off. She set her needle and thread aside and flexed her aching fingers. She had never sewn so much as she had in the past week. Once Elias and Moss introduced her to the mummers, all of them had requests to make. Some needed their own clothing repaired, while others brought her their various costumes and showed what needed to be mended. She’d worked as fast as she could. This monk’s robe was the final piece.
Not that she would be through with sewing anytime soon. Ralph, the lead actor of the troupe, already had met with her to discuss his ideas for new costumes for the plays the mummers currently performed. The group tried to rotate and do different plays for each day they were at a stop. Ralph also wanted to add a few more plays to the group’s repertoire—which meant a vast assortment of different costumes. Jessimond would have plenty of work over the next few weeks if the Vawdrys approved of any of Ralph’s plans.
She looked up to the cloudless sky. Most of her sewing had been done under the tree where she now sat. The light was much better outside than if she’d stayed inside the small tent she shared with Agatha. Jessimond had spent her week with the mummers in the area where the group ate and slept, not wanting to interact with the crowds at the faire. She hadn’t wanted to run into anyone from Kinwick lands or the nearby village—and she hadn’t—being removed from the wares sold and the troupe’s performances. Once they were on the road and settled at the next stop on the tour, she planned to visit the stalls and attend some of the plays.
And mayhap the joust.
She felt her cheeks grow warm thinking about the joust—or rather, the men involved in it. While she’d met everyone in the company and knew all of them by name, Jessimond had avoided speaking directly to either Marcus or Rand, the two men she suspected were knights-errant. Watching the way each man moved was enough to give away their identities. Both were graceful and comfortable in their bodies. They carried themselves with a confidence that only a knight possessed. They might pretend and pass themselves off as mummers to others, but they did not fool her.
Each night, the entire troupe gathered for a meal after the last play had been performed and the stalls closed. Jessimond enjoyed hearing all of the stories told, some from that day and others from previous times on the road. She sensed Marcus and Rand watching her but never met their eyes, preferring to listen to the tales recounted or talking with Agatha or Jopp. The young boy had stolen a piece of Jessimond’s heart with his eagerness to please and smile that never ceased. Jopp had taken to following Peter about and the mummers teased Peter about his newfound shadow.
“You’ve been busy.”
She looked up and saw Peter hovering above her. He smiled and sat next to her.
“I just finished the last piece. For now.”
“You haven’t really left this area, Jess.” He glanced around to make sure they were alone. “I’m concerned about you. Are you avoiding others?”
“Aye. Until we leave Kinwick. Then I will mingle more. Explore the faire. And I am getting to know the other mummers.” She paused. “Agatha’s quite nice.”
As she suspected, Peter’s blush told her all she needed to know.
Then he grimaced. “Agatha’s a sweet lass but her cooking?” He shuddered. “You’ve got to do something, Jess. I would have starved by now if there hadn’t been food to sample and purchase at the faire each day.”
“I’ve appreciated the savory meat pies you’ve brought to me, Peter. But I wasn’t hired to cook. I won’t take that away from Agatha. ’Tis her job.”
“Then she needs another one.”
“I agree,” a deep voice said.
Jessimond looked up and saw Marcus de Harte standing there. She hadn’t heard him approach and was thankful they hadn’t been talking of things he shouldn’t hear. He squatted and then sat cross-legged on the ground in front of them.
“Rand and I spend all the coin the Vawdrys pay us purchasing food,” he admitted. “If you have any knowledge of cooking, Jess, we would appreciate you making our evening meal.”
“Agatha does most things right. All it would take is a few spices added to the pot,” she shared.
“I doubt Agatha has ever seen a spice,” Marcus said. “Much less how to use it to flavor stew.”
Jopp came running up, his face flushed. “Peter! Can you come help? Moss needs you.”
“Of course, little man.” Peter rose, his eyes meeting hers. Jessimond nodded, answering his unspoken question and letting him know she would be fine. He left with Jopp, the boy scurrying to keep up with the blacksmith’s long strides.
“Your brother has been quite useful,” Marcus remarked.
“Peter is capable of doing anything he sets his mind to.”
“You seem close,” he noted.
Jessimond nodded. “I can honestly say that we’ve been good friends all of our lives.”
“Not all siblings can say that. Sometimes, there’s rivalry between them.”
“Not between us.” Curiosity made her ask, “But what about you, Marcus? Do you fight with your brothers?”
An odd look crossed his face. “Nay. I have no brothers. Merely sisters.”
“Merely sisters?” She sniffed. “I see women hold no importance to you.”
Without warning, he took her hand and held it, his thumb caressing her palm. “Some women are important to me.”
Jessimond jerked her hand from his. “I don’t plan to be one of them.”
He gave her a lazy smile, causing her heart to skip a beat. She held her ground, though, not blinking. But the longer she gazed into his piercing, blue eyes, the harder it became to breathe.
His fingers captured her chin, the gentle pressure holding her in place. “I mean it, Jess. I’m not Rand. He’s my closest friend and I would die for him, but Rand’s a charmer when it comes to women. You should stay away from him, for he would only break your heart.”
“And you wouldn’t?” she asked softly.
Jessimond wrapped her fingers around his wrist, in order to pull his hand from her face. Already, his touch singed her skin, as if her face had caught fire.
“I don’t know,” Marcus replied, his thumb stroking her bottom lip. “I fear you might break mine.”
She swallowed, her hand falling from his wrist. He released her chin and stood, offering her a hand.
“The faire will be closing soon. Come around to a few of the stalls with me. Let’s see if we can purchase a few spices to liven up our evening meals.”
Jessimond hesitated a moment before placing her hand in his. His large one engulfed her much smaller one as he easily pulled her to her feet. She stumbled, falling against his chest. His free hand clasped her arm to steady her. They stood speechless for a moment and then she pulled away, bending to retrieve the robe she’d worked on and her sewing kit.
“Let me put these in my tent,” she said and hurried away.
She lifted the flap of the tent she shared with Agatha and rested her things on top of her pallet. Closing her eyes, Jessimond balled her hands into fists and took a few calming breaths, trying to steady herself.
No man had ever stirred these kinds of feelings within her. She would need to be careful around Marcus de Harte. It would be dangerous if he knew how much he affected her.
Returning to him, she held her chin high and gave him a confident, de Montfort smile. If she’d been a lady, he would have taken her arm and tucked it into the crook of his elbow in order to escort her. Jess Gilpin wasn’t, though, so she walked briskly past him and said, “Come along,” her skirts swishing.
He caught up to her. “I haven’t seen you at any of the stalls.”
“I wanted to finish everything I had been given to do. I think almost every mummer made a request. And Ralph is already full of ideas for new plays, which means fresh costumes. Now that I’ve completed what I was given, I hope to spend more time seeing the faire while I work on different items for the troupe.”
“Have you watched one of the plays before?” Marcus asked.
“Aye. The mummers have been coming to Kinwick for a few years. The earl and countess allow their servants time to visit the stalls and see the plays.”
“So you worked as one of their servants in the keep?”
“I did. I was ready for a change, though. I thought coming along with the mummers would be interesting. I could see a bit of the world. Meet new people.”
“What will you do when the season ends?”
Jessimond had been prepared to be asked that question. “Lady Merryn was kind enough to tell me that I will always have a place at Kinwick if I care to return. One season with the mummers may be enough to satisfy my wanderlust.” She glanced up at him. “What about you, Marcus? Do you plan to stay with the troupe?”
“I am at a crossroads,” he confessed. “Joining the mummers was a distraction I sorely needed and Rand was good enough to humor me and come along. I will stay through this season, but beyond that?” He shrugged.
Jessimond wanted to ask him more about the dilemma he faced but they had arrived at the row of booths. Since it was the last day before their departure, most of those at Kinwick and in the neighboring village had already completed buying their wares. She could hear laughter coming from the west and knew most visitors to the faire now attended the last play, which should be over soon.
Marcus took her elbow. “Come over here, Jess. Have a look at these herbs and spices.”
Once again, a sensation of being scorched occurred when he touched her. Her belly felt full of butterflies spreading their wings and flapping them rapidly, yet having nowhere to fly. Her mouth grew dry. She let him lead her to a stall where a rotund woman with a few missing teeth gave her a grin.
“Come to look, dearie?”
“Aye,” Jessimond said and reached for a jar, breaking the contact between her and Marcus. Part of her was grateful as her pounding heart began to slow. The rest of her longed for him to touch her again and bring that giddy feeling to her insides once more.
“That’s cinnamon you hold,” the woman told her.
Jessimond smiled. “Cinnamon has always been one of my favorites.”
“We’ll buy it,” Marcus proclaimed.
“Oh, no,” Jessimond swiftly replied. “We are merely looking now.”
She asked the booth’s vendor about other jars and opened a few to inhale the pungent aromas. She asked the cost of a few of the spices and then put each jar back on the wooden board that served as a shelf to display the merchandise. Though Jessimond never looked at him, she sensed impatience humming about Marcus.
“Thank you,” she told the woman. “We may be back.”
Strolling away, she moved to another booth and repeated the process with a man who reminded her of Michael Devereux, husband to her cousin, Elysande. He had Michael’s coloring and vivid blue eyes but was a good foot short of the earl’s height.
As Jessimond went to a third booth, Marcus cupped her elbow and pulled her away.
“What are you doing?” he hissed into her ear. His lips brushed the lobe, causing a frisson of pleasure to simmer through her.
She pulled away and frowned at him. “Have you never purchased goods before?”
“Of course, I have,” he snapped.
“How do you do it?”
“Do it? Do what?”
“Buy something,” she said soothingly, trying to calm him.
Marcus frowned. “I pick it up. If ’tis what I want, I ask the price and hand over the coin.”
“Ah.” She shook her head in understanding. “You are a typical man.”
His crooked smile warmed her heart. “My gut tells me there’s something more to this game.”
“That’s exactly right. It is a game and you must learn to play along, lest you disappoint the seller.”
“Show me,” he urged, his cool, blue eyes warming as he studied her.
“We will need to go to a few more stalls.”
Marcus shrugged. “You are in charge.”
“You do have the coin?” she asked, knowing she didn’t.
“Aye. You’ll be able to purchase what you wish.”
With that knowledge, Jessimond went into action. She visited five booths in all and then began going from one to another, bickering in a friendly but firm manner with each of the owners. Soon, all five of the vendors knew they were in the game and played accordingly, trying to outbid one another. Some cut their price. Others offered her two spices for the price of one. Another agreed to give her three for what she would pay for two.
“I really had my heart set on some saffron,” she mused.
“I don’t think any of these people have made you a good price, Jess,” Marcus said, finally joining in. “Mayhap when we leave tomorrow, you can stop in the village we pass to see their prices.”
“Nay, Jess,” called out the toothless woman, ready to make her final pitch. “Come here. You, too, Marcus.”
Soon, the seller had made them a good deal on the saffron. Jess wound up buying something from each of the five stall owners. She hiked her tunic as she had seen others do in order to cradle some of the jars, while Marcus held on to the others.
They made their way back to the company’s tents, applause erupting from the area near the stage.
“It sounds as if the play has concluded,” she said.
“You drive a hard bargain,” he told her, admiration in his tone. Grinning, he added, “I never knew purchasing goods could be so entertaining.”
“Believe me, they enjoyed it even more than you did. Next time you go to buy a belt or trinket, be sure you barter for it. Negotiating a price is what makes the process so much fun.”
They arrived at the tents and Jessimond saw Agatha standing over a huge pot resting over a fire.
“We’ve brought some herbs and spices for you to cook with,” Jessimond said.
Panic flooded Agatha’s pretty face. “I barely know how to cook, Jess.” She glanced at the jars they held. “What am I to do with these?” she wailed.
“Don’t worry, Agatha. I am well versed in herbs and spices. I can show you what to add in order to make food more flavorful.”
Agatha made a face. “I hate cooking. I wish you would take over the task, Jess. I only do it because no one else bothers to.”
“An excellent idea,” seconded Marcus. “You don’t mind, do you, Jess?”
“Nay. I enjoy cooking. I will need help, though. The troupe has many members.”
“Oh, I don’t mind helping you, Jess. Just tell me what to do.” Relief settled over the young woman, as if a heavy burden had been lifted away.
“Take the jars Marcus bears. We’ll bring them to our tent and decide what to use tonight. I think some of the saffron and long pepper will do for a start.”
“I’ll carry them,” Marcus offered.
He accompanied them to their tent and handed the containers over since Jessimond didn’t think he would fit inside the small space.
“I’ll line everything up,” Agatha said enthusiastically. “I’ll let you know when you can see.” She closed the tent’s flap, leaving Jessimond alone with Marcus.
“She’s happiest when she’s allowed to organize something,” Jessimond said.
Marcus took her hands in his. This time, she didn’t yank away.
“Thank you for spending some time with me today,” he said. “I enjoyed being in your company.”
“I enjoyed it, as well.”
They stood gazing at one another. Jessimond suddenly had a fierce urge to kiss him. Such a thought had never crossed her mind before.
As if he knew what went on inside her head, Marcus asked, “Have you ever been kissed, Jess?”
“Nay,” she whispered, her heart beating rapidly.
He bent and brushed warm lips against her cheek. Her fingers tightened against his as light filled her. His breath fanned hot against her face. She turned her head slightly so her mouth could meet his. Before it did, Agatha called out.
“Ready, Jess!”
Marcus released her hands and stepped away. Disappointment flooded Jessimond.
“Coming!” she called over her shoulder.
As she turned, Marcus caught her elbow and turned her so that they faced one another.
“A first kiss is something special, Jess,” he said softly. “It takes time—and requires privacy. I promise you this—we’ll find both.
“Soon.”