Page 47 of The Sword and the Damsel

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, my lord. You know my parents?” Alais asked, curtsying.

“Of course, I know your parents! We live too close not to know each other. In fact, I’ve met you several times, though you may not remember. You couldn’t have been older than six the last time I saw you. I seem to recall Victor here rescuing you from a large mastiff that barked at you and gave you a scare.”

Servants led away their horses, and they made their way into the castle.

“I remember that!” Alais said, taking Victor’s arm and squeezing it. “I had no idea that was you.” She kissed his cheek. He must be getting used to her company because he only froze for a few seconds before he recovered.

His father elbowed him in the side. “Your mother used to look at me like that.”

Inside the castle, everything was clean and tidy but shabby. The upholstery was faded and worn through in places. Paint was chipped and stained. Rugs had bare patches. Victor knew Guestling brought in a modest but comfortable income, and he’d added significantly to their collective assets from his time in Spain and his work for his aunt. His father could afford to have things repaired and replaced. He just didn’t bother.

As expected, they retired to the great hall, and his father called for his cook, Marie, and consulted with the shy, plump widow in whispers for several minutes before sending her off with a playful spank and then pouring generous flagons of wine for all three of them. Soon the food began to arrive, starting with a fresh, golden baguette, still warm from the oven, served with fresh goat cheese, duck confit, and gherkins. Victor always had had a weakness for Marie’s duck confit, and he dug in with relish.

“So tell me how this all came about, my boy. When Robert went off to that tournament, I thought he might be bringing a young lady home, but it seems you beat him to it!”

Alais stiffened beside him at the mention of Robert’s name. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze beneath the table, and she squeezed back. Before he could respond, Alais spoke up.

“Robert asked for my hand, but I turned him down. Victor had already won my heart with his bravery and his kindness toward me.” It was sweet of her to spin this tale for his father. The truth would come out eventually, but he was grateful to her for the lie.

And then she turned to him. “He was shy about courting me, but it was his scarf and his colors I wore at the tournament. I can’t tell you how my heart was pounding as I placed the ring on his finger for his triumph at swordsmanship. I was his before he dared to speak a word.”

He knew she was embellishing for his father’s sake, but the look in her eyes took his breath away. If he didn’t know better, even he would have been convinced by her performance.

A tray of fresh oysters arrived with an assortment of sauces. “Always knew you had it in you, my boy,” his father chuckled before loudly slurping down an oyster. “Christ, you took your time about it, though! Didn’t think you were ever going to get the deed done.” He slurped another oyster. “A man reaches a certain age, and he wants grandchildren, for God’s sake!”

Victor nearly spit out his wine. He glanced at Alais to see if she was about to run away in horror, but he found her grinning and raising her glass to him. He opened his mouth to say something and closed it, opting for more wine and duck confit instead.

Bowls of rich and beautifully spiced pottage were placed in front of them. Victor inhaled deeply. Marie’s pottage had always been the smell of home. When he was in Spain recovering from his wounds, he thought he smelled it on the breeze once, and it reduced him to tears. He knew if he ate the whole bowl, he wouldhave no room for the courses yet to come, but there was no hope of holding back.

He was pleased to see Alais savoring each bite. It brought him joy to share this meal with her, to see her pleasure in the food that fed his soul. He laughed about his father stuffing visitors like capons, but he understood it. There was something so intimate about breaking bread together. It created a connection that went beyond hospitality. And beautiful food like Marie’s was a sensual experience, a teasing of the tongue every bit as beguiling as a kiss. He used to wonder if his father was sleeping with Marie, but he’d long since realized that their relationship was far more intimate than that. He made love to her food, and she made love to his appetite. Whether they touched each other was entirely beside the point.

“How have you been, Father? I’m glad to see you in good health.”

“Same as ever. Nothing new to tell. I’m getting older and slower.” His father took a bite of pottage. “And fatter, thanks to Marie. She takes good care of me.” He helped himself to another oyster. “If you want my advice, which you probably don’t, you’ll be on the lookout for a good cook now that you have a wife. With a good cook and a good wife, a man can be truly happy. Can’t have Marie, though. She’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of taking Marie away from you.”

“Who’s taking who away from whom?” Victor’s head whipped to the door where Robert leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, taking in the scene. Alais’s hand clutched his arm like a vice. “Lady Alais, what an unexpected surprise.”

“Robert, I thought you were coming by tomorrow,” his father said. “Victor stopped by unexpectedly to introduce me to his new wife. I gather you and she are acquainted already.”

Alais’s grip tightened even further on his arm. Her nails dug in painfully. Every muscle in his body tensed.

“Congratulations, my lady. I see now why you turned me down. I didn’t think you had it in you to be so calculating and cold-blooded. He might be the heir, and I’m only second in line, but I never thought a woman would be able to get past his face. You proved me wrong.”

Victor sprang to his feet, pulling free of Alais’s grasp.

His father rose at the same moment. “Victor, don’t touch your blade. Robert, I think you’d better leave.” His voice was ice.

“And you, Victor,” Robert continued, ignoring the warning. “I’m surprised you’re willing to sully this house with damaged goods. I had my way with this little whore before she turned me down, or didn’t you hear?”

“Oh, I heard, and I know for a fact that it’s a lie. If we weren’t beneath my father’s roof, I would kill you for it right now. Out of respect for him, I’m giving you a chance to leave, but if I ever see you again, you are a dead man.”

“So ungrateful,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. “I saved your life in Spain.”

Victor’s hand flew to his sword, and it was halfway out of its sheath when he felt his father grab him by the collar with an iron fist.

“Leave now, Robert,” his father growled.

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