He shrugged. “Then look at the food as a loan,” he said. “Someday, I will expect you to pay me in return, in money or in trade. Would that make you feel better if we had that understanding?”
Did it? She wasn’t sure. But the prospect of a regular meal was almost more than she could bear. To know that she would be fed regularly, as much as she wanted, was the greatest blessing she could think of. But she still didn’t understand his motivation.
“Why?” she finally hissed. “Why should you do this for me? I am no one to you.”
He smiled, dimples carving into his cheeks. “I told you,” he said. “It is not often I have a chance to speak to someone who knows Devon as I do, and as I also told you, I have just returned from The Levant. It has been a very long time since I have spoken to an Englishwoman who was worth knowing. Are those not reasons enough?”
“And I am worth knowing?”
He dared to reach out, drifting his fingers over hers. It was a reckless and inappropriate action, but one that sent Andressa’s heart racing with shock and excitement. She very nearly dropped the bucket. As her mind reeled, she could only think of one thing to think, of only one thing to say–
Do it again!
But the words, thankfully, didn’t come. Before she could reply in any manner, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. It was the nun who tended the kitchens and she was peering from across the yard, an expression of condemnation on her face. It was enough to cause Andressa to forget Maxton’s touch and bolt through the postern gate, pulling it shut and bolting it from the inside.
But she could still see Maxton standing outside the gate through the big iron slats. He hadn’t moved. Terrified that the kitchen nun might say something to the Mother Abbess about the laundress and the strange man, she hissed at him.
“Please leave,” she said. “Every moment you remain brings me one step closer to trouble.”
Maxton knew she was correct, so he backed away from the gate. He, too, had seen the nun near the kitchen, so he quickly moved away from the gate, losing himself in the trees that were next to the enormous wall and hoping he would not be seen by anyone else. But he was prevented from running off completely by the fact that he knew Andressa was on the other side of the wall. He just couldn’t seem to leave her, even if he couldn’t see her, and he couldn’t help the smile that played on his lips as thoughts of the pale young woman lingered.
That lovely, graceful lass…
Still, it wouldn’t do any good to hang around, so he began to move towards his horse, the old charger that Gart had purchased for him in France so that he would have something to ride home from Baux. But he hadn’t taken two steps when he began to hear voices– raised voices. One voice was clearly Andressa’s; he could tell because she had a rather deep speaking voice for a woman. It was sultry and smooth.
There was an argument going on.
Curious, he made his way back towards the wall, listening to what was being said. He couldn’t really hear the words, but he could hear the tone. It was strained. Whoever Andressa was talking to had a shrill voice that was saying something about sin.You are wicked, the woman said. Andressa replied steadily, but try as he might, Maxton couldn’t really hear what she was saying because she was keeping her voice quiet. Yet, there was nothing quiet about the loud slapping sound he heard next.
After that, it was grunts and shrieks and more slapping noises.
Maxton did what he shouldn’t have done; he bolted for the postern gate. It didn’t even occur to him to stay out of sight because he was more than likely the very reason for the fight, so he rushed up to the gate, pressing his face between the iron slatsonly to see Andressa sitting on top of the kitchen nun, pinning the woman’s arms.
The woman on the ground was screaming and trying to kick, but Andressa held the woman down firmly. It was rather impressive, in truth. Maxton watched with great concern, his natural instincts wanting to help Andressa, but those thoughts were curbed as shouts began to come from the dormitories. Women in woolens and veils over their heads began to pour from the building and he let go of the postern gate, moving away from it and sinking back against the wall to watch where he could not be seen.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a good vantage point because there were vines in the way and even a tree trunk inside the compound, preventing him from seeing very much. He could see several nuns rushing out to break up the fight and he could hear stern words being passed around, tones that seemed to him like scolding. He strained a little, trying to see what he could see and increasingly concerned for Andressa when, abruptly, he saw her being led away by two nuns, back in the direction of the dormitory and chapel.
The nuns had her by both arms, one on each side, holding on to her to make sure she wouldn’t try to escape them. Maxton realized that his heart was pounding against his ribs as he remembered once more what Andressa had said about the Mother Abbess and what happened to charges that displeased her. God, that horrible thought came pouring over him as he watched the nuns leading her away.
Leading her away because he had been stupid enough to seek her out and have a conversation with her like a giddy squire. This was all his fault.
He’d gotten the woman into trouble.
At a loss as to what to do about it, his first instinct was to make his way inside the abbey and save her. He could move withstealth; that was part of his skill set. He knew he could make it into the abbey and find her, and kill anyone and everyone who got in his way, but then he would be violating the sanctity of a holy order. Not that it really mattered to him; after his bout with the Holy Father and all that entailed, he had no respect for the church at all. Not one bit. But there was the real fear that he would only make things worse for Andressa with his actions. It wasn’t as if she’d ever given him an indication that she, in fact,wantedto be saved.
He couldn’t save a woman who didn’t want his help– and had clearly refused it.
There were voices near the wall now, catching him off guard, so he bolted away, moving swiftly through the trees and across the stream, circling around to come to his horse, that was tied off in a copse of trees a fair distance away from the abbey. He didn’t want to be caught lingering around the abbey. Perhaps, the best thing for him was to simply leave.
It wasn’t as if he had a choice.
Even as he mounted his steed and charged off southward along the road, paralleling the abbey and her old walls, all he could think of was Andressa and how to help her. Kress and Achilles and Alexander were waiting for him at the docks along the Thames, but here he was, thinking of a pledge. In fact, after leaving St. Blitha, he spent an hour lingering by Bishopsgate, a massive opening in the London wall, thinking on what to do, but he kept coming up with the same answer–stay away.
Wait.
Perhaps that was all he could really do.
But he did know one thing– he was going to be at The King’s Gout Tavern tomorrow morning before dawn, waiting to see if Andressa showed up. If she did, all well and good. But if she didn’t…
