Page 9 of Hidden Dragons

Robert was gorgeous. Bear was compelling. And both made her knees weak when they moved close to her in the confines of the small house.

“Do you play?” Sir Bernard asked, shaking her out of her reverie. He was pointing toward the small stringed instrument in the far corner of the room.

“My mother taught me,” Isabelle informed him. “We brought that with us from her homeland far in the north. She also played the flute and tin whistle, which she taught me as well. We used to pass the time during the cold winter months practicing by the fire.”

She remembered those long winter nights fondly. Her mother had been a truly gifted musician, but she refused to play for the villagers—and had forbidden Isabelle from doing so as well. In honor of her mother’s memory, Isabelle still kept that promise to this day.

“Mayhap you’ll play for us after dinner?” Robert asked with a hopeful look in his eyes. “Bear plays the flute quite well. Perhaps you can find a song you both know.”

Isabelle looked at Sir Bernard. He seemed a bit bashful, but willing to try, so she nodded.

“We can try,” she answered gamely, motioning for the men to sit at the table.

There were only two chairs and they hesitated, looking at each other for a moment before Sir Bernard inexplicably rushed out the door. Before she could ask where he’d gone, he was back, a heavy log in his hands. He carried the huge chunk of tree easily, impressing Isabelle with his strength. The piece had been cut to a suitable height, she realized when he placed it upright at one side of the table. He could use it as a stool, solving the seating issue.

“I was going to sit by the hearth,” she said quietly. “But this is much better. Thank you for thinking of it.”

Bear smiled as he sat on the up-ended log, and she and Robert took the chairs. She was seated at the one next to the hearth, so she could easily reach the pot of stew. She lifted it off the hook that had kept it bubbling over the fire, and placed the heated pot in the center of the table, on a block of wood designed to hold it steady and protect the table top from its heat.

She uncovered the iron pot and the aroma of the stew spilled forth. It smelled good. Better than anything she had cooked in a long time. She didn’t usually go to much trouble just for herself. Since her mother’s death, there were precious few reasons to cook a special meal.

“That smells delicious,” Robert complimented her as she reached for the two wooden bowls she and her mother had used.

She filled both, handing one to Bear, but when it came time for her to give the other one to Robert, he instead offered another wooden bowl of different design. He smiled at her, softening the realization that he had noticed that she didn’t own much in the way of tableware.

“We have things in our packs that we can use to supplement your wares,” he said quietly. “I know you live simply and have little use for company.” She was shamed by his knowledge of her lack of friends. “We have imposed on your hospitality a great deal and you have not complained once, though you have had a right to.” He laughed and held the bowl steady as she filled it for him, letting the moment pass.

It was embarrassing to know they had noticed how poorly she lived, but their matter-of-factness about it made her feel a little better. They were truly gentlemen as well as knights of the realm.

“Mama and I didn’t entertain much. We only made what we needed for ourselves,” she tried to explain in a quiet voice as she filled his bowl.

“Made?” Bear asked. “You made these things?” He held up the intricately carved spoon, seeming to admire the woodwork she had taken pains to learn how to do competently.

This, at least, was a question she could answer without shame. She put down the wooden ladle as Robert placed his now-full bowl down in front of him. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out her latest project. It was the little piece of wood she had taken from the barn’s small stockpile earlier in the day.

“I began working on this today. It will take a while yet to finish the fine detail and smooth it out so there is no fear of splinters, but your presence here reminded me that I should at least try to be prepared for company.” She offered the half-carved spoon to Bear for his inspection. The spoon form was complete. It was the scrollwork and leaf pattern on the stem she had yet to fill in completely.

“This is fine work, mistress. You have great skill with wood carving. Why, you could trade these for coin in many towns and villages,” Bear proclaimed, examining the spoon with great care.

Isabelle smiled. “I actually do trade them on occasion. There is a tinker that comes through once every season. He does not leave without visiting me to see what I have to trade. He was here last month and I traded a set of twelve spoons of similar design for my new bed linens and a few copper pennies. I would have had more to trade except it was harvest and I had little time to work on them,” she admitted. “I used the pennies to buy eggs each market day, until they ran out.”

“You like eggs?” Bear asked quietly, handing the half-finished carving back to her.

“Very much,” she agreed, pocketing the spoon and realizing they had yet to begin their meal. It seemed the knights were waiting for her. “Do you mind if we say the blessing before we eat?” she asked, not sure of the proper etiquette.

“By all means,” Robert answered, smiling and putting her at ease.

She paused, bowing her head. “Blessed Mother of All, it is by your bounty that we have this food to eat. Thank you for your blessing. By your grace, please watch over us and guide us with your loving hand, this we pray,” she said, using the simple words her mother had often used.

There were more formal blessings, but on this occasion it seemed only right to use the more familiar words. They put her at ease, regardless of the fact that she was about to share yet another meal with two of the most attractive men she had ever met.

But they were not for her. These men were noble. Knights of the realm. She was just a poor woman who eked out a living on the edge of the forest. She was nobody. She could never hope to claim the attention of a man such as these in a romantic way. Still…a girl could dream.

Blessing complete, they started to eat in comfortable silence. From the way the men devoured the stew, she gathered they liked it. A lot. When she was only halfway through her own portion, they were already finishing theirs. Bear finished first, looking at her with a somewhat sheepish expression.

“This is delicious, mistress,” he said, watching her with hopeful eyes. It was odd to her how much a grown man—a knight, no less—could seem like a youngling at times.

“Please do not stand on ceremony. If you want more, take it. With all the meat your companions have set to smoke tonight, there will be a bounty in my larder tomorrow the likes of which it has never seen before. I thought perhaps, if you liked the stew, you and Sir Robert would finish this pot tonight. Will that be enough?” She looked uncertainly at her small pot and then back at the big men who were eyeing the stew in it avariciously.

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