Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(221)

She was landing some heavy blows to his head and Maximus put his hands up, grabbing her fists as they swung at them. He could only see her with one eye because of the skirts still around his head, but that one eye was glaring.

“You will cease your fit,” he growled. “I am not here by choice, lady. You fell on top of me. If anyone should be angry between us, it should not be you. Now, stop beating me and pull your skirts away from my head unless you wish to remain in this position for the rest of your life.”

The young woman was embarrassed and frustrated; Maximus could see it in her expression. She was also the most utterly beautiful woman he had ever lain eyes on; with long blonde hair secured in a braid, she had a sweet oval face, lush lips, and big eyes the color of a hot summer sky. She was absolutely ravishing. But that beautiful face was twisted into a serious frown.

Grunting miserably, the woman yanked at her skirts, trying to push herself off of him. Maximus was able to get his arms free and he reached out, taking her by the waist as he sat up. He was able to set her to her feet before rolling over and rising to his knees. He watched as the woman ran over to the young girl, pulling the child into a relieved embrace.

“Are you well, Issie?” she asked softly. “Did you hurt yourself?”

The young girl shook her head, holding tightly to the woman. “Nay,” she replied, looking at Garran, who was standing a few feet away. “He… he saved me.”

The young woman looked at the big, black-eyed knight. “You have my thanks,” she said sincerely. Then, she reluctantly turned to Maximus, who was just rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off his leather breeches. It was clear that she was torn between her embarrassment and her gratitude. “And to you, sirrah… I suppose I should thank you also. Had you not been here, the outcome might have been considerably different for my sister and me.”

Maximus moved away from the flaming structure, which was starting to collapse. Pieces of building were falling onto the avenue and, silently, he and Garran moved the women away from the danger to the other side of the street. It was a chivalrous habit to protect the weaker female sex and had nothing to do with his overall concern for the women. Considering the ungrateful lady had beat him around the head, he would just as soon leave her where she stood.

“Your gratitude is unnecessary,” he said, realizing he was having difficulty looking her in the eye and not thinking of that sweet morsel between her legs that had presented itself so unexpectedly to him. “If you are uninjured and do not require further assistance, then we shall be along our way.”

He didn’t even wait for an answer; he found that he was increasingly confused as to his reaction to the woman, as if she had somehow cast a spell over him. Something about her was pulling him towards her whether or not he wanted to and he didn’t like it, not one bit. As he and Garran turned away, heading back for the Street of the Merchants and to the business they were there to conduct, the young woman’s soft voice called after him.

“Sirrah,” she said. “I should like to know your name so that I may tell my father. He will want to thank you.”

Maximus paused and he turned to face her. Her voice had a silky, sensual quality, something he found quite alluring. A siren’s song, he thought ominously. She is trying to bewitch me with that honeyed tone.

“As I said, gratitude is not necessary,” he said somewhat stiffly. “We were honored to be of assistance.”

He turned to leave but, again, the woman stopped him. “Wait, please,” she said. By the time he turned around with some impatience to look at her, she was walking towards him, clutching the little girl beside her. Her lovely features were considerably softer. “I… I am sorry I became angry with you when you were only trying to help. I am afraid that my fear got the better of me. If you would forgive my behavior, I would consider it a personal favor.”

Lord, but that tone was smooth and gentle. He almost closed his eyes to it, letting it flow over him, infiltrate him, and he knew that if he let himself go that she could talk him into anything with those dulcet tones. He wanted to walk away from her and away from the situation; he truly did. He had no involvement here and was anxious to be about his business. But gazing into those bright blue eyes, he realized he couldn’t simply walk away from her. Something about her had reached out to grab him.

“There is nothing to forgive, my lady,” he said, less stiffly. “Your fright is understandable.”

She smiled faintly and Maximus went weak in the knees; he simply couldn’t help it. He’d never seen such a beautiful smile. “You are too gracious,” she said. Then, she indicated the girl in her grasp. “This is my sister, Lady Isadora de Lara. I am Lady Courtly. My father is Kellen de Lara. Mayhap you know of him.”

Maximus cocked an eyebrow. “The Lord of the Trilateral castles?” he asked. “Trelystan, Hyssington and Caradoc Castles. Your father is Viscount Trelystan.”

Courtly nodded. “He is, indeed,” she said, surprised that the man should know her father in such detail. “Then you know him?”

Maximus nodded. “I do,” he replied; he had a mind like a steel trap and never forgot anything once he’d learnt it. “The Marcher lords of de Lara hold nearly the entire southern portion of the Welsh marches as the Lord Sheriffs. Everyone knows of your family, my lady; they are great and powerful. And I know your father well; he is a fine and just man.”