So Worthy My Love (37 page)

She felt a flood of warmth toward him, and yet when he was so handsomely clothed in fur-trimmed cloak, velvet doublet, and fine leather boots, she could not ignore the fact that her own rough garb was base and crude. She scrubbed self-consciously at her cheek where his fingers had touched, spreading a smudge of dirt that encrusted it as she replied hesitantly, “You've outdone yourself, my lord, and been most generous.”

The two women were directed toward the stoop by Fitch, who was having difficulty keeping up as he struggled with their cases. As the pair mounted the steps, Elise retreated into the hall and held the door for them. The older woman smiled graciously,
but no lady of quality ever put on so many airs as the larger one. She paused several paces beyond Elise to glance about with contempt at the interior, then she turned to peruse the maid with an equal amount of disdain.

Fitch was faced with the challenge of getting his bulk and the baggage through the portal at the same time. He mounted several abortive attempts before making an advance sideways. Even then, when he squeezed through, it was like a cork bursting free from a fermenting flagon of wine. No matter how hard he tried to hold them, the trunks and cases flew helter-skelter.

“Oh, look vhat yu've done, yu clumsy oaf!” the woman of bovine proportions scolded. Her words were marked with a faint German accent, and she gestured imperiously for Elise to give Fitch assistance just as Maxim entered.

“Don't dawdle, girl! Help the man, and then show the dressmaker and me to our rooms!”

“Nay, mistress!” Fitch cried in an anxious dither, shaking his head at Elise. “Do not trouble yerself!”

“Mistress?” Raising her brows in sharp skepticism, the newcomer looked Elise up and down, bringing the blushing heat of humiliation to that one's cheeks. Beneath that haughty stare of disapproval, Elise could find no suitable reply, aware that her appearance would have matched a scullery maid's rags.

Maxim made the introductions:
“Frau
Hanz, this is your new mistress . . . Mistress Radborne.”

“Then . . .”—the woman paused, her dark eyes passing down the worn, woolen gown disdainingly—“she is not the Marchioness?”

Maxim felt a prickling of irritation as he noted the derisive smirk on
Frau
Hanz's broad face. Her expression left little doubt to the conclusions she had drawn. “You were hired as housekeeper here,
Frau
Hanz, and your duties will be to lend yourself to whatever Mistress Radborne sets forth for you. If you're displeased with that arrangement, you may leave come the morrow. I shall have my man take you back”

The housekeeper stiffened at the softly spoken rebuke, and it was a long moment before she answered.
“Entschuldigen Sie, mein Herr.
I did not mean to offend.”

“Take care in the future that you avoid doing so,” Maxim replied, and gave a brusque nod to Fitch. “Show the women to their rooms.”

In the silence that followed their passage, he contemplated Elise who appeared frozen by the exchange. “ ‘Tis difficult to find good servants in so brief a time,” he murmured as his eyes softly caressed the downturned face. “If you're not satisfied with
Frau
Hanz, she can be dismissed.”

Realizing the threat of her crumbling composure, Elise stiltedly bade, “I must beg to be excused.”

Before Maxim could reply, she pressed a knuckle against her trembling lips and fled toward the stairs. He stared after her, his senses dulled by confusion. He had seen the hurt in her face and was able to understand it, yet for some reason he felt as if she had cast him as the villain in all of this.

Running after her, he caught up with her on the third step of the stairs and pulled her gently around
to face him. Her eyes, spilling a wealth of tears from the lashes, refused to meet his gaze. “ ‘Tis no simple annoyance I see,” he whispered. “What's wrong?”

“You . . . you shame me, my lord,” she sobbed softly.

“What?” The word burst from his lips before he could halt it.

Elise flinched at his retort, and her teary eyes lifted to search his face. “Do you not ken what she thought of me?”

Maxim accepted the blame without argument. “I know I have compromised your good name, but short of exchanging vows, Elise, I can make no further amends than what I've already made.
Frau
Hanz can be sent away as easily as she was brought here. All you need do is give the command.”

“She looked at me . . . as something loathsome.” Elise stared down at her clothes and plucked distastefully at the frayed woolen gown. “And she had a perfect right to. I . . . I look like . . . a . . . charwoman!” She sniffed and wiped the back of her hand shakily across her cheeks as the words stumbled out between intakes of breath. “How can I face any servant you have brought here, much less go to Lubeck with Nicholas looking like this?”

Maxim frowned his displeasure. So that was it! Nicholas! She wanted to look her best for the man. “You took moneys from him for the clothes. What have I to do about that now?”

Elise lifted her hands in earnest appeal. “I came here with moneys of my own hidden beneath my skirts, and those I gave to Nicholas to invest for me.
I've never taken anything else from him. Nor have I taken anything of yours. The purse you gave me was taken to the exchangers for benefit of usury. Nicholas can make full account of it all, every last coin.”

Maxim folded his hands behind his back and gazed down at her, his face enigmatic, as if he held a secret and would draw it out until the last moment. “Women,” he murmured softly. “I'll never understand the breed. They cause me great trouble and even greater bewilderment. You could have explained, yet you allowed me to think you'd take moneys from both of us.”

“Give me leave to go to my chambers before
Frau
Hanz returns,” Elise pleaded miserably. “I would not have her see us together like this.”

“I pray you delay a moment more, Elise, while I'd make you aware that when
Frau
Reinhardt thinks one is deserving of her attention, that one also takes on a high priority.” He noticed her brows drawing together in confusion and allowed himself a small smile. “Except for the last fittings, the gowns were ready and have been brought along. Were I you, maid, I would hie myself to my chambers and make ready to receive them . . .”

A sharp intake of breath interrupted him, and in the next instant Elise was stretching upward on the tips of her toes and flinging her arms around his neck. Locking them fiercely about him, she drew his head down, amazing Maxim who was pleasantly taken aback by the swift, soft brush of her lips against his cheek.

“Oh, thank you, Maxim. Thank you,” she whispered against his ear, and before his arms could
close about her narrow waist, she had slipped free and was flying up the stairs.

“Frau
Reinhardt sent the seamstress along to see the gowns properly fitted,” he called after her and, a moment later, heard the slamming and bolting of her chamber door.

Maxim retraced his steps downward and crossed to the hearth where he stretched his hands toward the heat. The memory of Elise's radiant face warmed him more than any fire, and the idea of making a temporary home of Faulder Castle was settling comfortably within his mind. Until a time came when they could return to England, the keep would be a nurturing haven for both of them.

Elise came awake suddenly, her body bathed in cold sweat. The remaining dregs of a nightmare, in which she had seen her father imprisoned in a dark, foreboding place, lingered in her mind. His hands and feet had been shackled with long chains, which had clanked in a slow, plodding measure as he trod the cold, stone floor with bare, bony feet. The boundaries of his prison cell were marked with bars of iron attached to a stone wall. A pair of eyes, of mammoth proportions and as transparent as a thin veil, overlay the vision, and the impression that they had stared with a deep, troubled longing straight at her had wrenched her from the depths of slumber.

Restless now, Elise left the comfort of the soft, downy tick and pulled the clean, sweet-smelling sheets and furs into place behind her to preserve what warmth she could for her return. She slipped a long velvet robe over her naked body and donned a
pair of slippers, giving little heed to the luxuries she now enjoyed. What did they matter when her father could be suffering terrible hardships?

The fire had burned low, and she placed a few more logs upon the glowing coals before tugging a chair close and propping her feet upon the raised hearth. The nightmare had left her mind cast awry upon the vast, barren steppes of some foreign place, and though she searched hither and yon, she could find no comforting home for her thoughts to rest.

Finally she forced herself to review the past weeks with meticulous detail and deliberation, and memories of Maxim quickly overshadowed the gloom. In both manner and charm he had outdone himself, and as a suitor he had been irresistible. He had cajoled, pampered, teased, and delighted, leaving her feeling wonderfully alive. For the first time in her life she was being courted by a man who was mature enough to know what he was about and to be assured of himself and his powers of persuasion. A light brush of his lean fingers upon her arm or a cheek could evoke sinuating waves of pleasure and leave her giddy with delight.

The advent season had come and gone, and servants and highborn alike had feasted well. Even
Frau
Hanz had given a chuckle or two as they listened to the wildly humorous stories told around the hearth as each took their turn to entertain. In private Maxim had gifted her with a bejeweled box and, with a soft husky voice, had urged her to keep it solely for the hearts she had won. Elise remembered only too well the soft, warm feelings she had experienced when he graced her slender fingers with a kiss.

For a time they had been kept busy at separate tasks, she with instructing the housekeeper on her duties; he with directing the carpenters toward the repairs that needed to be made. The seamstress had been enlisted to sew draperies for the bedchamber windows and new hangings for the beds, heavy enough to keep out the drafts. Rugs had been placed over the stone floors in areas where they were most wont to sit, and woolen lap robes were furnished for the chairs.

Elise's own chamber had taken on a feeling of coziness with the draped velvet on the windows. The new bed-hangings added an inviting warmth to that haven, and it was almost a pleasure to curl beneath the downy comforters as she drifted off into the arms of Morpheus. Even in its shadowed corner the copper tub now gleamed after a thorough polishing.

A growing feeling of security was settling down upon her because of the improving conditions outside the keep. No longer did Elise need to fear the coming of night. The small cannons which Maxim had brought back now graced the front walls, and the portcullis, which had been made serviceable by the addition of linked chain, could be lowered at nightfall behind the newly repaired gate.

Still, Elise found the passing weeks had chafed hard against her emotions. The many hours she had spent with Maxim within the narrow confines of Faulder Castle had begun an erosion of the once-solid wall of her defense. His warm and gentle manner was beginning to bring about a change in her, a change which boded ill for her weakening will. She
was very much a stranger to the growing yearnings that assailed her and more than a little cautious of the desires that enflamed her. Never in her life had she felt the smallest urge to seek out a man's company, as she now was inclined to do with Maxim. She enjoyed being with him and being the recipient of his attentions. He seemed casual enough about touching her, but to be so familiar to respond in kind was a yearning she had not yet appeased. She had been totally amazed by the attack on her senses the morning she had come upon him bereft of a shirt, and she had been hard pressed to drag her eyes away from that lithely muscled expanse. From simple to sensuous, her
mind was ever wont to wander when her hungering eyes touched upon the man. She had memorized every shape, every swell, every bulge, every leanness, every firmness, every flowing muscle that had all been wonderfully combined to create that tall, handsome torso. Quite often her lashes would flick down, brushing burning cheeks as she tried to hide her growing fascination, but her imagination refused to halt on the outer garb of the man. She had seen all, and wanton maid that she was, all was what she desired to see again.

Stepping away from the hearth, Elise slowly paced about the chamber. Her longings were by no means a singular problem, for Maxim had made it known that he wanted her as a man wants a woman. But she had refused them both, crushing down the cravings, cindering them beneath the firm heel of her restraint. Still, the longings came back to haunt her, and, such as now, she could not find the soothing comfort of rest.

Her eyes turned as if compelled to the tapestry. She now had a suspicion where the doorway led, and a deep curiosity began to grow within her as she stared at the piece. What better time for her to explore this mystery than when Maxim was asleep and he would know naught of her wanderings.

She lit a taper and, with purposeful intent, slipped beneath the work of art, holding it a safe distance from the burning candle. She was determined that nothing would dissuade her from her resolve, not even the bats that had once inhabited the shadows of the tapestry. Gently she slid back the latch that Spence had affixed to the door and, thus freeing the panel, carefully opened it.

Lifting the candle high to banish the darkness, Elise stepped into the passageway and moved cautiously beyond the fireplace wall to the steep, narrow stairway. Gingerly testing each step, she made a slow, careful ascent. At a small landing she found a door with a neatly worked latch positioned low on the right side. She set the candle down where it would give her light and cautiously turned the latch. The panel swung smoothly without the slightest sound, and as she stepped over the threshold, she caught the slow, steady breathing of the slumbering man who occupied the bed. The low fire cast more shadows than light, while the heavy velvet hangings held the darkness secure within the bed.