Page 54 of Sweet Mead for Lady Martine

“What are you going to do?” asked his mother.

“About the inn?”

“Nay. About your broken heart.”

“She’s a noble, Mother. I’m only fooling myself to think we could end up together. She deserves someone so much better than me.”

“And what about you, David?” she asked. “Don’t you deserve some happiness in life as well?”

“I am naught but a commoner. I belong with someone who is more like⁠—”

“Like Ava?” His mother didn’t wait for an answer. She got up and left the room, leaving David alone with his thoughts. He took another swig of whisky and laid his pounding head on the table.

“What the hell is the matter with you, boy?” came his uncle’s voice from the darkness. With the tapping noise of his cane, he made his way to the table and sat down. “Fight for what you want. You’re a Stone. Stones are solid like a rock. Nothing shakes us.”

“Well, this sure has me shaken,” mumbled David.

“If you love her, then go after her, boy! Don’t let the best thing in your life walk right out that door.”

“How can I?” He felt as if every bit of hope was gone. “She doesn’t want me. Not anymore. She thinks I’m nothing but a scoundrel and she is probably right.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Uncle Joe, I was betrothed and yet that didn’t stop me from kissing Lady Martine. I could have told her I was destined to marry Ava, but I didn’t. I could have told her I’ve lain with Cinnamon more times than I can count, but instead I made it seem like I never had.”

“Don’t think she’s a fool. She knows about you and the whore and now she knows about you marrying Ava as well. What did you expect her to do? Stay here when you have both of them? What do you need her for? Of course she had to leave. She’s a lady. No lady worth her salt would stay and watch you make an ass of yourself.” Joe grunted and stood, shaking his head. “If I wasn’t afraid of missing and hitting the goddamned bench, I’d kick you in the ass right now, David. You are nothing like your father. He never would have let anyone or anything stand in his way once he made up his mind that he wanted something. You disgrace the family name.”

David got up and slowly walked back to the drink board still clinging to the bottle of whisky. He put it down right next to Lady Martine’s silver goblet that held the remains of her sweet mead.

Martine was sweet just like that honeyed drink. She was sweet and smart and wonderful in every way. She made him feel alive when he’d felt dead for years now. What the hell was he so afraid of? She’d admitted to having feelings for him, so mayhap she still did. Or didn’t. Either way, his uncle was right. He couldn’t just let her walk out his door and out of his life forever. He had to fight for what– for who he wanted.

He put down the bottle and got his cloak from his living quarters, stopping in the kitchen to give his mother a quick kiss.

“What is that for?” she asked.

“For luck,” he told her.

“Why do I need luck?” she asked him, cutting up vegetables to make pottage for tonight’s guests.

“Not luck for you, but for me, Mother. I’m going after what I want and I hope I won’t be disappointed with the results.” He turned and left the kitchen.

“Wait, David. Where are you going?” his mother called after him.

“Open the tavern as usual and tell Dirk to tend to the drink board tonight. I’m not sure when or if I’ll be back.”