So Worthy My Love (26 page)

“
Ja,
he knows, and I think that is vhy he is interested in yu. He may vant to buy yur services.”

“He need only ask, and I will tell him what he desires to know.”

“Hilliard is also a careful man, Maxim. He is vary of foreigners, and he vill sniff you out vell ere he takes a chance.”

Maxim swept his hand about to indicate the hall. “Do you detect any guards lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on any who might wander in? I am destitute; my wealth has been stripped from me. What have I to defend?”

“The most precious possession yu have, my friend. Yur life.”

Maxim sipped the mead in silence, and it was a long space of time before either of them spoke. Growing impatient, Nicholas glanced toward the stairs and waved a hand in that direction.

“Yu say the girl is in her chambers? Does she know I've come?”

“Her windows overlook the courtyard. She could not have missed your arrival. She is no doubt testing your patience.”

Nicholas flung himself from the chair. “I vill go and fetch the maid!”

“I would advise against provoking her,” Maxim muttered into his cup. He took a sip of the mead and
raised his gaze toward the stairs, detecting some slight sound from the middle chambers. His smile was brief and his words mocking. “Behold, the fair damsel has finally deigned to grace us with her presence.”

Nicholas whirled in obvious eagerness and, with long strides, crossed the hall to await the girl. Maxim watched in detached amusement, curious as to what the vixen would wear to greet her guest. Although he had directed funds for the purchase of clothes, he had thus far seen no evidence of any finer attire than the soiled woolen gown. From the bucketfuls of water the men had carried to her chambers, he could only surmise that she would at least be clean.

Maxim continued to address his attention to the stairs until a silken slipper first came into view beneath a blue velvet hem. As she stepped fully into his range of vision, he braced an elbow on the wooden arm of the chair and settled his chin between his thumb and forefinger, a subtle way to keep his jaw from falling agape. He observed her sweet and gracious greeting to Nicholas, and the thought came to him that they had housed a changeling in their midst, for here indeed was the winsome lass Nicholas had glimpsed.

Elise laid a slender hand upon the captain's arm and allowed him to escort her across the hall. This time Maxim rose to his feet to give her the benefit of his manners, but she all but ignored him as she verbally admired the wealthy dress of their guest. “Faith! I am overwhelmed by your handsome appearance, Cap—”

“Nicholas,” the pale-haired man eagerly insisted.

“As you wish . . . Nicholas,” she murmured pleasantly, and gave a small nod of acquiescence. “You do me honor.”

Maxim rolled his eyes in wide disbelief. The wily wench had a glibber tongue than any serpent in Eden!

“I came here to ask a most pertinent question,” Nicholas blurted. “And if yu are of a mind, I vould have the answer now.”

Elise sank into a chair in chaste silence, sweetly attentive to his words. Nicholas's enthusiasm was brimming over as he dragged his own armchair around in front of her and leaned forward to take her hands into his. “My dear Elise . . . I've never met a voman who intrigued me more . . . and I've reached such status in the Hansa, I am free to court whom I vould . . .”

The corners of Elise's mouth lifted prettily as she teased, “Why, Nicholas, I seem to remember that you wished to avoid any mention of your state of wealth while we were aboard your ship. What has changed?”

Nicholas cleared his throat and shot a glance over his shoulder at Maxim, who was now lounging with his feet stretched out before him on the floor and an arm braced upon his chair. At present their host appeared highly entertained by their conversation, for he eyed them with the interest of a curious hawk, seeming to hang on each word for any tidbit he might glean from it. After another grumbling deep in his chest, the captain faced the lady again
and confided, “Maxim informed me last veek that yu vere not his betrothed.”

“Had you asked me that aboard your ship, Nicholas, I would have told you I didn't even know the man,” Elise pointed out. “But you were so intent upon keeping the identity of my abductor a secret, you did not allow for the possibility of a mistake. This awful tragedy might not have been carried to such extremes if you had spoken up.”

“I had no reason to think Fitch and Spence had made such a blunder,” the Hansa captain carefully explained. “Believing yu belonged to another, I struggled to remain as impersonal as possible.” Pausing, he glanced down and brushed his thumb against the soft, smooth flesh of her hand. “I failed abjectly.”

Elise glanced at Maxim and felt a whetting irritation with the man. Behind Nicholas's back, he raised his hands and, in a mocking fashion, silently clapped them together, applauding her performance. Her eyes narrowed and snapped in loathing disdain. What she wouldn't do to wipe that smirk from his face!

“Nicholas?” Her voice was soft and honey-coated, and in eager response the captain raised his gaze to probe the depths of the sapphire orbs. “Lord Seymour spoke of your desire, and I am pleased to have such a gentleman call upon me.”

Her statement really made the green eyes roll, and the tawny head took up the movement upon the tall back of his chair. Maxim averted his gaze briefly and then turned back to her with a brow
sharply cocked to accentuate his exaggerated expression of profound skepticism. He responded to the girl's perturbed glare by shaking his head in mute, but rankling, disapproval.

“I brought yu a gift,” Nicholas announced. He left the girl and rushed across the hall to seize a long bundle Spence had carried in. Hurrying back, he untied the large, cloth-wrapped, cylinder-shaped roll and spread a luxurious Turkish rug for her consideration. “For yur chambers to protect yur feet against the chill.”

“Oh, Nicholas, ‘tis a rare and beautiful piece you gift me with.”

“For a rare and beautiful lady,” he murmured.

“I'm overwhelmed by your generosity. It grieves me that I've nothing to give you in return.”

“Yur companionship is a gift I vould greatly cherish.”

Maxim rose from his chair, displaying some annoyance with the couple. “I've listened to the pair of you mewling and caterwauling long enough,” he stated testily. “I shall take Eddy out for a ride, and I have no idea when I will return.”

“No need to hurry back,” Nicholas responded, welcoming his departure. “Ve shall be adequately entertained in your absence.”

“I'm sure you will!” Maxim replied, making no effort to disguise his sarcasm. He strode across the hall, mounted the pair of steps, and took his leave through the massive portal. The slamming of the door punctuated his departure and brought a sweetly voiced and well-disguised jeer from Elise.

“Poor man. He is still brooding over Arabella.” Her attention returned to the Hansa captain as that one settled himself in his chair. “Tell me, Nicholas, how goes my investment?”

Maxim returned late that evening to find Fitch and Spence seated back to back upon a bench before the hearth. Each watched his half of the hall with a wary eye and with a cudgel held at the ready, just in case a phantom wraith should be wont to wander about, but when the lord of the keep pushed open the front portal, they started up with frightened cries and made ready to defend their post.

Maxim was not of such a mind to believe in ghosts, but their loud wails of fright nearly raised the hackles on his neck. “Cease!” he barked. “You'll wake the dead!”

“Beggin' yer pardon, m'lord,” Fitch apologized, and tried to gulp down his trepidations. “We was afearin' the dead was already awake.”

“There are no ghosts here!” Maxim stated emphatically, snatching off his gloves. “If you so desire you can sleep in the room behind the stables while I'm here, but when I'm away, you should remain in the hall and lend whatever protection you can to the maid during my absence.”

“Aye, m'lord.”

The servants gathered their pallets and cudgels and made haste to depart the great room, fleeing across the courtyard with coattails flying. Slowly Maxim crossed the hall and began to climb the stairs. He was chilled to the bone after his long ride, and he had to suppress a persistent shiver. Dragging
the flap of his cloak across his chest, he draped it over his far shoulder to close it more securely against the drafts that flowed through the keep.

A wavering light shining from the second level aroused his curiosity, and he stepped away from the stairs to peer into the shadows of the short hallway. Elise stood in her doorway, silhouetted against the firelight that radiated from her chamber hearth. A fur pelt was wrapped around her shoulders, leaving the skirt of her lace-trimmed petticoat showing beneath. Her small, slender feet were bare against the stone, and he had no doubt they were as cold as ice.

“What is wrong?” he questioned, moving toward her. He could see that she was shaking and wondered if it was entirely due to the drafts. The candle she clasped illumined the worry in her eyes as she stared back at him.

“I had a dream,” she whispered, and glanced about her as if trying to sort out reality from fantasy. “I dreamt I saw my father being hauled up a chimney. The smoke was so thick he could not breathe, and they left him hanging there to torture him.”

Maxim reached out to brush back a curling wisp from her cheek “Nicholas has been telling you tales of the rites of the Hansa . . .”

Lifting her gaze, she stared up at him in confusion. “Is that something they do?”

A long sigh slipped from Maxim. “Their rites of initiation are supposed to be well-kept secrets, but Nicholas does not always follow by the rules. He thinks of himself as something of an outcast. He is
much offended by what the brotherhood does sometimes, yet he feels a certain loyalty to them, too. His mother is a Netherlander and lives in Lubeck. His father is dead now, but once he was a high master in the league.” Maxim paused for a moment as he searched the troubled blue eyes and continued distantly, “Someday I expect Nicholas will break with them.

“But you are chilled,” he observed as a shudder shook her. He reached out a hand and pushed her chamber door wider. The flames in the hearth had burned low, and the invading shadows crept ever closer to its dwindling light and warmth. “If you'll allow me, madam, I will add more logs to the fire for you.”

“As you please,” Elise answered quietly, and went to perch on the edge of a tall-backed chair that was drawn up close to the fireplace.

Maxim doffed his cloak and, watching her with close attention, laid it over the back of a companion chair that stood nearby. Self-consciously Elise covered one bare foot with the other as she felt his perusal. She could not imagine what he had found of interest, but the color crept into her cheeks as he took in every detail of her from head to toe. She was greatly relieved when he directed himself to the task of rebuilding the fire.

Going down on one knee before the hearth, Maxim stirred the reddened coals, laid kindling on the glowing heap, and then placed several logs upon the growing flames. “There, that should chase away the chill.”

“Lord Seymour . . .” Her voice was small and quiet in the room.

“There's no need to be so formal, Elise,” Maxim assured her as he looked at her askance. “I've no real claim to a title anymore.”

“A situation no doubt caused by my uncle.”

“You've probably heard the story many times,” he responded. “I need not explain.”

Elise folded her hands in her lap and swept her gaze about the room until he bent to poke at the kindling, then her eyes wandered back to him, drawn by a growing curiosity. The feeding flames curled upward around the rough bark of the logs, casting a golden glow upon his crisply chiseled profile. She could not remember ever having taken such close and careful note of a man before, and to her recollection she had never seen one who so epitomized her vision of the Apollo of ancient fables. The question burned to be answered. Could such a man be a murderer? “I've heard many tales about you, my lord, and I often wonder what is true.”

Maxim laughed shortly and, looking up at her, braced an arm across a leather-covered knee. “Are you suffering qualms at being alone with me because you think I'm a murderer?”

Elise lifted her chin a notch as his words pricked her ire. “I'm not afraid of you.”

“Nay . . . I doubt that you are.” He slowly nodded as he contemplated the regal set of her jaw. She had more mettle than any maid he had ever known. “At least, you've never shown any indication that you are.”

“Well?” she pressed.

“My dear Elise.” He addressed her as if beginning a lecture. “On occasion I've had to take up my
sword and kill a man in the performance of my duty, whether it was as protector of the Queen or in some alleyway where my own life was threatened, but I pray you believe, fair maid, that I've never murdered anyone, especially in my own house. I had just arrived home that evening to dress for a banquet that was being held in honor of Arabella. I was told by a servant that an agent from the Queen awaited me. When I went to meet the man, I found him lying beside the fireplace. It looked as if he had just fallen and struck his head, for he bore an ugly wound across his brow and there was blood on the mantel, but later it was discovered that he had been stabbed. That has caused me considerable confusion, for when I first tended him there was no sign of any such wound. In fact, he was alive, and I was about to summon help when I heard a noise from the loggia and ran out to see who might be hiding
outside. My meeting with the agent was meant to be private, but Edward later told the Queen that he saw me there with the agent. To have done so, he would have had to have been the one hiding on the loggia.”