Page 12 of Sweet Mead for Lady Martine

“I know what you meant, David,” she said with a smile, trying to make him feel relaxed. “Now, if you’ll pour me some more of that spiced wine, mayhap we can sit down at that empty table together and continue talking.” She nodded with her head to the same table he’d been sitting on when she walked in. The one in the shadows at the back of the room. She realized now, he must have been sleeping atop it since Lady Sage and her baby were in his bed.

Martine headed to the table. David was right behind her with a wooden cup in his hands and a corked bottle tucked under his arm. She sat down on the bench. He settled himself across from her. Putting the cup on the table, he filled it to the brim and handed it to her.

David felt more than uncomfortable sitting down with Lady Martine and drinking wine in the semi-darkness. He felt as if he were sneaking around and doing something forbidden. But she was the one to suggest it and he wasn’t about to deny her wishes. Especially when they were really his wishes too.

“Here you are, my lady.” He handed the cup to her, but she hesitated to take it. The look on her face made him wonder if she was regretting his presence after all. Or mayhap the wine wasn’t good enough for her. Oh, why the hell didn’t he have sweet mead in his tavern? But why should he when she was the only one who had ever requested it? Worried thoughts filled his head and made him wonder if she was just testing him somehow. Perhaps she felt as if she were too good to be sitting with him. After all, he was just a commoner. These thoughts almost made him angry. “Take it, my lady. Or should I have brought you your wine in a chalice instead?”

“A chalice?” One of her thin brows raised and she looked at him from the corner of her eye.

“I meant, goblet. Goblet, not a chalice,” he hurriedly corrected himself. Damn, why did he feel so vulnerable and insecure around her? Mayhap he should have poured more whisky for himself so he could rid his mind of his own thoughts of pity. After all, she was a noble from the castle. Ladies didn’t sit down and drink with the likes of him. What the hell was he doing?

“Just relax, David. I only hesitated because there is only one cup. However, I suppose we can share it.” Reaching out, she took the cup from him, seeming as if she were being extra careful not to touch his hand. Still, her fingers brushed up against his slightly, and once again excitement rushed through him. She was such a beautiful woman. And forbidden to commoners like him, he silently reminded himself. While he enjoyed when their hands brushed together, she most likely despised it. Why wouldn’t she? He pulled back his hand, resting it on his lap, glancing down and wondering if his fingers were dirty. He wiped his palm on his trews, mainly to get rid of the sweat on his palm.

“What are you doing?” she asked, dragging him from his thoughts.

His heart jumped into his throat once again. “I was just… wiping off my hand,” he said, not knowing how else to answer.

“You were?” Her smile turned into a frown. “Why?”

God’s eyes, had he accidentally insulted her again? Mayhap she thought it was he who didn’t want to touch her and not the other way around. Holy hell, why did he keep doing this?

“My lady, it is not right for me to be sitting here with you. What will the other nobles say?” He glanced over his shoulder to where Lord Gar and his henchmen slept by the fire. “I’ll leave at once.” He got to his feet.

“You’re right.” She drank down the wine quickly and stood as well. “This will never do. If my brother-by-marriage awakes, he’ll have your head for drinking wine with me and having conversation.”

“He will?” This only made him feel worse than he already did.

“We’ll have to go outside where we’ll be alone and also be sure not to wake anyone. Mayhap the stables would be a better choice since I don’t think the horses will care.” She turned and marched for the door. “Bring the wine.”

“Oh, hell,” David mumbled under his breath. The stables were the last place he wanted to be caught alone with a noblewoman in the dark. He couldn’t go there. Then again, she had already opened the door and wasn’t turning back. If he let her leave the inn without an escort, he was sure Lord Gar would truly have his head. “Wait,” he whispered, grabbing the bottle of wine and hurrying after her, taking his cloak from a hook on the wall. Just as he was about to close the door, Uncle Joe sat up in the dark, his head moving back and forth.

“Who goes there?” asked Joe.

“Shhh, it’s just me, Uncle Joe. Go back to sleep,” he answered.

“David? Is that you? Who is with you?” asked the blind man. “I heard two people.”

“Nay, it’s just me. Now, go back to sleep. Everything is fine.” He quickly closed the door and turned to take a step, knocking right into Martine.

“Oh!” she cried out, losing her balance from the force of their bodies hitting against each other. Once again, he found himself holding Lady Martine, keeping her from falling.

“We’ve got to stop doing this,” he said playfully, watching her eyes roam upward, stopping at his mouth.

“Doing what? We’re not doing anything. Yet,” she whispered, her eyes still fastened on his lips.

He was about to release her when to his surprise, she reached up and pressed her lips against his quickly. Too much in shock to stop her, he let it happen. The bottle of wine almost slipped from his fingers since he was so surprised by her action. And when she continued to stare at him instead of turning away, he lost all common sense. Feeling as if his head were filled with straw, he foolishly pulled her closer and kissed her passionately, not able to stop himself from wanting to taste her essence. His desire soon turned to wanting to taste her on his tongue as well as his lips. Before he could think about the consequences, his tongue entered her mouth. He filled her completely, fantasizing that it was another part of him doing this but somewhere else on her enticing body.

God’s teeth, she was breathtaking and tasted sweet like honey. Or mead. The scent of rosewater drifted from her hair, filling his senses, about driving him mad. He wanted her. Badly. His hand went around the back of her head, steadying her while he kissed her even deeper. Her hair was silky to the touch. Her face being pressed up against his made him realize the skin of nobles was soft like the petals of a rose. Or at least hers was. Damn, this woman was even more intoxicating than an entire bottle of whisky.

“Let’s go over here,” he told her, leading the way to a side of the tavern that had no windows. It was where he chopped wood for the fire.

“We can sit on these stumps and talk,” she said, starting to sit even before he could object because it was dirty and wet from the rain. Still, she didn’t seem to care.

“Wait, allow me.” He put his cloak over the stump. Then he held out his arm and let her take it to steady herself while sitting.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, sitting on the stump next to her. The sun was just starting to rise on the horizon taking away the inky darkness of night.

“How about some more wine?” she asked.