Free Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 02 by A Knight of Battle Page B

think of nothing to say.
    Albin’s hand reached out to her before he pulled it back. “You have a flower petal tangled in your tresses.”
    “Oh.” Lecie’s hand shook as she ran her fingers through her hair. “It must have come from the jesters.”
    Slowly reaching his hand out, he pulled the white petal free. “Most likely.”
    Her throat felt dry as he raised the petal to his nose before tucking it into the belt of his tunic. Willing him to kiss her, she stepped closer.
    “Lecie…” Abruptly clearing his throat, Albin stepped back. “I really need to talk to you.”
    “Is not that what you are doing right now?”
    “It is,” he agreed. “Only I had a more serious talk in mind.”
    “Oh?” Her hopes lighting her eyes to a brilliant sparkle she smiled. “I thought you had to return to the festival?”
    “I do…I meant another time.”
    “I shall be here when you return,” she whispered tilting her face up for a kiss. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands slid through her tresses to cradle the back of her head. Focusing on his lips, her tongue darted out to moisten her own.
    “Lecie,” he spoke low as if in torment.             
    Closing her eyes, she leaned into him to wrap her arms around his waist.
    Gently kissing her forehead, he stood as if undecided. After a long tense moment, he released her to step back. “I must go.”
     
    * * *
     
    Once again confused by his manner, Lecie remained in the kitchen after Albin departed, to check on the meal preparations.
    Betta had the stew finished, and trenchers and rolls waiting. Making note to make it up to her, she passed into the common room to survey the cleanliness with a critical eye.
    She looked up with a frown as the tavern wench, Harsent, came sauntering down the steps. Dressed in a soiled rough woolen kirtle of brown and stained cream kirtle, her graying black hair escaped its loose braid.
    “You assured me last eve the floors would be seen to by this morn, Harsent.”
    “Leave off, Lecie. You know I have been ill,” Harsent, pouted.
    “Only from the amount of drink you imbibe in the evenings,” Lecie scolded. “In that alone you do not hold up your end of the board agreement.”
    “Your father was much more understanding and pleasant,” Harsent mumbled. “I do not see you treating Gunilda and Betta the way you do me.”
    “Gunilda and Betta see to their tasks without having to constantly be reminded of them,” Lecie replied sharply. “Come dark, the inn shall be fair to bursting with revelers. I suggest you see to the floor by then.”
    “I see no point in cleaning something that is only going to get soiled again.” Harsent huffed as she passed Lecie on her way to the kitchen for a wash bucket.
    Lecie headed up the steps for one last check on her father before the inn began to fill. A shadow crossed her eyes to see him resting uneasily. Sitting with him, she dabbed at his brow with a cool cloth until the late afternoon sun began to slant across the floor.
    “I love you, Da,” she whispered as she leaned over him to kiss his damp brow. Straightening she shrieked as someone seized her arms roughly from behind.
    “Keep your trap shut or you will wake him.”
    Breaking free, she whirled around to face an agitated Hamon. “Take your hands from me,” she seethed. “Why are you even here? You very well know Joseph cannot attend the stand alone.”
    Out of breath, his eyes darted over his shoulder as he once again seized her upper arm. “Your man is on his way back to the inn and before he arrives, you and I need to settle a few things.”
    “Unhand me, Hamon.” Lecie winced in pain as he half-dragged her out of the room and down the passageway. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
    Pulling her around the steps leading to her garret, Hamon forced her into the children’s chamber.
    Suddenly afraid of his intentions, she began to struggle in earnest as he turned to bolt the door. “I demand that you