So Worthy My Love (36 page)

Elise mentally shook herself as she realized where her mind was wandering. Taking firm hold on her emotions, she stiffened her spine and hardened her heart. This man had to be confronted once and for all!

In a vixenish, spiteful bent, she lifted a foot and swept Maxim's from the hearth. She smothered a gasp and stood transfixed by the speed of his reaction. His feet snapped back and hit the floor. A thin whine of steel rang sharply in the room as the scabbard went clattering across the floor, and a wicked, winking light danced along the naked blade as Maxim came to his feet. Glancing to each quarter of the chamber, he found no other threat than the slender maid. He straightened and tossed aside the sword as he stepped squarely before her. Though she stood on the raised hearth, Elise found herself meeting his eyes on a level with her own.

“You wished a word with me, madam?” His voice was soft, but flat and void of feeling.

Elise could only wonder at his mood as she struggled to recall her own rage. Perhaps sweet reason
was the best course to take with him. “Have I your full attention now, my lord?”

“The fullest I would lend to any maid,” Maxim avowed. A corner of his lips lifted roguishly. “You may well rue the day I lend it all to you.” His eyes pinned hers and held them until her cheeks flushed with color. “I've known a few fine ladies whose manners might have been better honed by a stint of discipline across my knee. Though I've never raised a hand to any of them, at times I've been sorely tempted.”

“You draw the line of propriety most thin, my lord,” Elise observed with bravado. “You threaten to see me chastened for my offense, yet you abuse the privacy of my person and my chambers as if you have a right as lord and master of this keep.”

Maxim noted the pulse beating in the long curve of her throat before his gaze dipped downward to where the gown molded itself to the ripely sweffing breasts. Meeting her gaze again, he queried with an uplifted brow, “Did you not do the same and unleash your attack upon me while I slept?”

Elise tossed her head with a flippant air and paced back and forth along the edge of the hearth, unaware of the vision she gave him with the firelight outlining her slender form and turning her hair to a lustrous flame. She came back to stand close in front of him and tilted her head to the side as she considered his handsome visage. “Do you in truth yearn to lay the flat of your hand to me as if I were some wayward bratling?” Her fingers plucked at the ties of his shirt and casually caressed his chest as she tested her womanly wiles upon him. She was curious to see if he
would be as susceptible as Nicholas to a gentle touch or a word. “Have I abused you so?”

Maxim had learned to be wary of this maid and eyed her carefully, wondering what she was about. “Aye! And abuse it was, I vow.”

Her eyelids lowered coyly as she averted her face a slight degree, allowing him a view of her saddened countenance. “Is your agony unbearable, my lord? Do you wish to lay punishment upon my hide ‘til your anger is spent?”

This was not the vixen he had come to know, and though Maxim felt the pulse start to leap and throb within his veins as the maid leaned against him, he was cautious of being led into another trap. Aware of the teasing pressure of her soft breasts against his chest, he fought an urge to clasp her to him and smother her questions beneath hot, fervent kisses. He gave answer in a hoarse whisper. “I've never wished to do you harm, Elise.”

“What say you now?”
She straightened as if he had stung her and her eyes flashed with rage. “Then in your tender, mitigated ministrations, my lord, I have been sorely used!” Her small fist struck him squarely in the chest, and he stumbled back a step, amazed at her sudden change. “Did you not have me abducted from my uncle's home, my lord? Did you not have me hauled through the dregs of Alsatia, tossed into a moldering box, carried willy-nilly across the seas to a foreign land where I'm held as a prisoner among strangers?” Alighting from her perch, she followed him and thumped his chest with the doubled fist as she continued her barrage of questions. “Have I not been made your slave?”

Maxim tried to retreat, but was halted abruptly by the bed at the back of his legs. He sat down heavily, and still his antagonist gave him no quarter. She followed between his spraddled legs and pressed her finger upon a spot above his heart, her sharp nail digging into his flesh where the shirt fell open. She ground out her words in short phrases as if she were lecturing a simple child.

“What think you that I am, sir? A soldier of the realm? Forsooth, I am not on a foray in the field, nor do I wax fond of this pile of stone wherein you seem to feel at home! I'm as hearty as the next, but I do not like the cold seeping through the cracks and crevices of every chamber. I huddle in my bed each morn and dread the leaving of it.” She calmed and spoke in a softer voice. “In truth, my lord, I would prefer a bed of warmth and safety and, were it possible, a woman to help with the cleaning.”

The slight, shadowy form moved away from him, and in a subdued, wistful vein Elise stared into the waning fire for a long moment. At long last she faced him again, and Maxim was surprised to see the shine of tears in her eyes.

“I do not ask for the rich comforts you would have provided your dearest Arabella,” she murmured, her anger spent. “I've made no further demands that you send me home before the spring. I would only ask that we try to live at peace while we're imprisoned here together in this place. I am weary of the battles, and though I know you would prefer sweet Arabella at your side, neither of us can remedy the mistake that has been made.”

Embarrassed by her own outpouring, Elise moved to stand beside the open door. “I bid you take your leave now, my lord,” she said in a small voice. “May you sleep well.”

Maxim rose to his feet, a veritable flurry of thoughts coursing through his brain. Catching up the sword, he sheathed it and approached the door where he paused beside the maid. Words evaded his grasping tongue, for any denial of his feelings for Arabella would have seemed a crude ploy. Reluctantly he left the maid.

The hinges squeaked slightly as Elise closed the door behind him, and heaving a sigh, she leaned her brow against the smooth surface of the wooden panel as the solitude of the room pressed down upon her. At the moment she felt very tired and utterly alone. It seemed that whenever they were alone together, she always ended up acting the vindictive shrew. She was unable to pass even an hour's time with him without getting into a fray. It was as if he set her at odds with herself.

A dim gray light marked the coming of morn, and Elise came abruptly awake as a door opened and closed somewhere in the keep. Thrusting her nose above the furs, she noted the leaden skies. She dreaded the thought of more snow, for the hilltop keep was becoming a fortress of white, impenetrable by all but the most hearty. She dragged her shift and gown beneath the covers where she pulled them over her head. Thus garbed against the cold, she rose and slid her cold feet into the hide shoes. Wrapping a shawl about her shoulders, she scampered across the room and hastened to restore the nurturing warmth of a fire.

A short time later, her face and hands pink from a scrubbing and her hair gathered in a heavy, coiled knot upon her head, Elise left her chambers and made her descent of the stairs. Her manner was one of soft contrition at the fury she had unleashed upon his lordship. Indeed, she was reluctant to face him as she recalled the fist she had driven into his oak-hard belly. “What must he think of me?” she groaned in misery. “Arabella would never have done such a thing!”

Spence was seated on the raised hearth eagerly eyeing
Herr
Dietrich as that one took out fresh buns from the oven that was set in the wall close against the fireplace. As she approached, the smaller man jumped up and hastened to pull out her chair from the table. It was rare to see Spence without his companion, and Elise made mention of the fact. “I say, Spence, you seem to have come out without Fitch. Is he well?”

“Don't ye worry 'bout him none, mistress. 'E an' ‘is lor'ship went ter ‘Amburg ‘fore sunup, ‘ey did.”

Behind the cook's back, the servant snatched up a roll from the iron planch and scampered away, just in time to avoid a ladle Dietrich swung at him. Tossing back a grin at the petulantly frowning cook, he settled on a squat stool on the far side of the table, out of harm's way.

“Hamburg?” Elise's voice was fraught with dismay. Had Maxim finally taken exception to her abuse and left the keep? “Will he be coming back . . . I mean, will they be returning soon?”

“I don't rightly know, mistress. ‘Is lor'ship ne'er said a word ta me 'bout ‘at.”

“I guess it really doesn't matter,” Elise sighed, and gave a small laugh. “ ‘Twill give me some time to myself.”

Spence never noticed her distress as he eagerly consumed the stolen bun. “Aye, ‘at's likely what ‘is lor'ship was thinkin' when 'e left ye here.”

Elise braved a smile. “He'll be lucky to return without running afoul of the weather. The gray sky bodes ill.”

As if in compliance to her words, a thick fog settled over the countryside that afternoon, obscuring the distant hills until they became vague, dark shapes. At times they disappeared altogether, consumed by a mass of whitish gray. Gazing out from her windows, Elise had an eerie feeling that she and the keep were marooned atop a mist-shrouded pinnacle set apart in a faraway universe and she would never again know the comfort of England and home. With an effort of sheer will, she shook off the dismal gloom and busied herself with a vigorous cleaning of Maxim's chambers. She straightened his dressing room and smoothed the velvet doublets beneath her hands as she placed them in neat order. Though the tiny room was not what one might call cluttered, it undoubtedly belonged to a man who was used to leaving such matters in the hands of servants.

Every now and then Elise would catch a faint melody drifting up from below where
Herr
Dietrich lent his voice to song. From the stables Spence added his own harmony to the tune with a vigorous hammering. The sounds reassured her, and yet the hours since Maxim's departure grew long, and it
became a labor to fill them. She was puzzled by the feeling of emptiness that pervaded the keep, as if his presence gave life to the structure. Though she struggled to deny the evidence of her own emotions, she was beginning to realize she had grown accustomed to his company and actually missed him when he was gone.

It was late afternoon when Spence appeared at the front portal. He seemed anxious as he hurried across the hall to fetch his long bow and a quiver full of arrows.

“What's wrong?” Elise questioned in sudden apprehension.

“No need for ye ta fret, mistress,” he assured. “ ‘Ere's just some strange voices on the trail, an' I thought we'd best be wary, what wit' thieves and vagabonds known ta roam ‘ese ‘ills.”

Motioning for
Herr
Dietrich to lower the bar across the door behind him, Spence slipped out and ran across the courtyard. As the cook made the hall secure, Elise raced upstairs and, opening her chamber windows, watched Spence mount the rampart beside the gate. She heard a distant creaking and a rattle of many hooves coming up the snow-packed trail, then a muffled call, hardly the sort of sounds a pair of riders would make. Whatever sort of brigands roamed these barren hills, it was obvious the castle's lone defender would need help against their attack, for it seemed they were coming with force.

Over the top of the crumbling wall she could see the vague, darker line where the ridge crested and indistinct patches where the lighter path crossed it. A dark shadow moved in the mists, becoming the
ghostly form of a man on horseback. Behind him another appeared, little more than a grayish haze in the fog. A larger apparition came behind them, taking on the shape of a cart drawn by a team of oxen. A second conveyance followed.

A small gasp escaped Elise as her eyes returned to the lead steed and she recognized his prancing gait. When she saw the tall, straight form of his rider, she realized by the telltale beat of her heart that she felt more than mere relief.

“Maxim is home!” The thought burned through her consciousness and warmed her with joy.

Catching up her skirts, Elise raced from her chambers. In a thrice she was down the stairs and lifting the heavy bar away from the front portal. By the time she reached the stoop, Maxim and Fitch were in the courtyard. Behind them came a cart loaded down with barrels, crates of chickens, and a pair of small cannons. On the seat beside the driver sat a large, squarely built woman, wrapped in a hooded cloak. The other cart was heaped with wooden planks, two large chests, bolts of cloth, feather ticks rolled and wrapped for protection against the elements. A trim, neatly dressed older woman had taken a place beside the driver and clutched a tapestry-covered case upon her lap. Following in the wake of the crude conveyance came a veritable entourage of animals: a lone cow, a small flock of sheep driven by a lad carrying a tall staff and a shaggy-haired dog that scampered along beside the youth.

Maxim dismounted and tossed the reins to Fitch before he turned and approached the stoop.
Drawing off his gloves, he paused before her. “As my lady commands.” With a grin he swept a hand to indicate the strangers. “Masons and carpenters to help mend the breaks, a woman to clean for you, another to ply a needle for a time where needed, animals to keep us in good supply of food and a lad to tend them.”

Elise was overwhelmed. “But how could you afford such comforts?”

“Nicholas advanced me moneys against the holdings of the Marquess of Bradbury,” he answered with a rueful smile. “Some would name him foolish, but he obviously trusts that I'll be restored in good graces with the Queen.”

“And what of Edward and his lies?” she murmured.

He reached out and brushed a wayward curl away from her cheek “Of late, I've thought little of the man. Perhaps the fire of my hatred is waning in the pleasurable presence of his niece.”