Page 11 of Sweet Mead for Lady Martine

“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded. Then his tongue shot out to lick his top lip, making her heart jump into her throat since she’d been looking at his mouth when he did it. She quickly averted her gaze, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Perhaps you’ve had it before?”

“Of course, I have tasted whisky, but it is hardly the drink of a lady,” she explained. “You don’t really expect me to partake of it, do you? After all, I am a noblewoman.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose not. My mistake.” He shrugged and downed the whisky, inhaling a sharp breath and then releasing it slowly. A satisfied grin spread across his face. “However, you don’t know what you’re missing.” He put the bottle and the cup on the drink board.

“I don’t care to know, thank you.” She swore his face got redder just from that one drink of the potent liquid.

“It’s quite relaxing. You really should try it.”

“It’s not ladylike,” she said again, eyeing up the cup and almost wanting the whisky after all.

He leaned over with one elbow on the drink board, smiling up at her, speaking in a whisper. “I’ll bet there is a lot about you that isn’t so ladylike. Am I right?” His eyes twinkled with mischief when he said it.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” He slowly stood up and reached out to cup her chin in his hand, causing her heart to beat rapidly. “I heard you recently took a journey aboard a ship filled with questionable men.” He moved even closer and cupped the back of her head with his other large palm. Her eyes closed. He was going to kiss her! She just knew he was. Why wasn’t she stopping him? Mayhap because she wanted him to kiss her and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night? He was right. That wasn’t ladylike at all, but neither did she care.

“Yes, I did that,” she whispered, raising her chin with her eyes still closed as she prepared herself for his kiss. “A ship filled with men.”

“You’ve got dried rosemary in your hair.” He plucked something from her hair and her eyes sprang open to see him throwing it to the ground. He quickly turned and studied the bottles lined up on a shelf behind the drink board.

“Oh. Thank you,” she whispered, feeling foolish for her illicit thoughts. She ran her hand over her hair, trying to still her rapidly beating heart. “I must have brushed up against some of the hanging herbs when I walked out here through the kitchen.”

“Ah, here we go. This is the drink of a lady.” He plucked up another bottle and brought it over to the same wooden cup he’d just drank from, pouring some into it and holding it out to her. “It’s a woodsy red wine with a hint of spices that I had my cook infuse into the liquid.”

“Oh, so it’s not mead? I love mead. The sweeter the better.” She knew by the scowl on his face that it was not.

“Nay, of course it isn’t mead. This is a tavern, my lady. We don’t serve mead here.”

“Why not? You should serve it. After all, you never know when someone might want some.”

“I doubt anyone ever would. Most of my patrons are rugged men. I assure you, none of them want a drink like sweet mead. It would be downright embarrassing. After all, that is a drink for a lady.”

“Oh, so now I’m a lady again, am I?” She boldly pointed out the fact that he’d just accused her of not being very ladylike but now he had suddenly changed his mind.

“Of course, you’re a lady. My lady,” he added, his mood changing as fast as the unpredictable weather. His friendly, playful smile faded. “I only point out to you what is available at the Cross Hare Inn. And it isn’t sweet mead, I assure you. If you want that, I suggest taking a journey to Blake Castle where I am sure they will cater to all your wants and needs.”

She’d been enjoying talking with the man, but she had somehow soured the mood between them asking for a drink that he didn’t have. Martine found herself wondering if he was disgusted by her request for mead or perhaps embarrassed that he didn’t have it. Either way, it no longer mattered she supposed. What was done was done.

He started to put the cup of wine down on the drink board but she snatched it away from him and drank it down in three gulps, her eyes never leaving his.

“You weren’t jesting.” He cleared his throat. “You really were thirsty.”

“Birthing babies and swooning at the feet of common innkeepers takes a lot of energy, you realize. Plus, it makes one very thirsty.” She pushed past him, meaning to go back to the small, stuffy room with the other women.

“Please stay,” came his request from behind her, making her stop in her tracks.

“Stay?” she asked, slowly turning around. “Why? So you can insult me again?”

“Nay, of course not.” He shook his head and held up one palm. “I’m sorry if you think that way, because it was not my intention at all to insult you, Lady Martine. I acted a little too familiar with you I suppose, but I was only enjoying being with you. Talking with you, I mean. Not being with you. Not in an improper manner.” He looked as if he could kick himself, thinking he’d said something wrong.

Martine liked it when David used her Christian name. It sounded good coming from his mouth. Now she found herself wanting to hear him say her name once again. Mayhap the best way to promote it was to use his Christian name as well. “I forgive you. David,” she said, liking the way his name sounded on her tongue. “I must admit that I had been enjoying talking with you as well.”

“I’d like to get to know you better,” he blurted out. His eyes popped open and he looked horrified by what he’d said. “Not know you. I mean, not like that. Not what you think.”

“And what do I think?” she asked playfully, being the mischievous one now.

“What I mean… what I meant–”