Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 02 (4 page)

“In that case, I shall. You have my sincerest thanks.”

Hearing Albin coming up the hall, Lecie rushed to pull the covers down as he strode in with her father in his arms. 

Plumping up the down pillows on the bed, she stood back as Albin gently eased him down. 

Gasping weakly, her father closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

Albin glanced at her as he followed Talan out of the room. Covering her father with a thin wool blanket, she heard them speaking in low tones in the passage.

Brushing the hair from her father’s forehead, she bent to place a kiss on it. 

His breath coming in shallow pants, he did not stir from his uneasy doze.

Straightening, she looked up to find Albin staring at her from the doorway. “I believe he will rest easier now, Sir Albin.”

“May I have a word with you in private, Lecie?”

Closing the shutters to darken the room, she stepped past him into the passage. Hearing Talan’s booted tread on the steps, she calmly met Albin’s gaze. “Please speak freely.”

“Edric is in a great deal of pain,” he hesitated. “More than he lets on. Her ladyship Reina may have something to make him rest easier. If you would allow it, I will send a messenger to Castell Maen.”

“Would you do that for me, Sir Albin?” Lecie’s eyes lit with hope. “I shall be forever grateful to you.”

“Aye, Lecie,” he admitted softly. “I would do more than that for you.”

Searching his eyes, she felt a flutter low in her stomach. “I shall forever be indebted to you.”

Clearing his throat, he looked away. “Right, well. I was wondering if you would do something for me in return.” 

“Anything,” she whispered. “What is it you would like?”

“Show me how to make ale?”

“I fear if I instruct you on how to make ale, I shall never see you again,” she teased with a smile.

Gazing down at her, he returned her smile. “You have nothing to fear on that account, lass.”

“Why is that?” she asked breathlessly.

He shrugged. “Even with ale of my own, I shall still have need of a place to stay when I journey to Rochester.”

“Oh.” To hide her disappointment, she turned on her heel towards the steps. “In that case, we best get started.”

“Lecie?”

Turning back, she waited with slanted brow.

Exhaling heavily, he shook his head. “Never mind, it is not important.”  Moving towards her, he gestured for her to precede him. “Let the instruction begin.”

Forget Father Godfrey’s vision of hell, Albin was in his own personal version of it. Perched on a stool set close beside Lecie’s in the small brewing shed, Albin watched her go about the chore of making ale.

“Sir Albin?” Lecie repeated.

“What was that you said, lass?” Yanking at the wet collar of his tunic, he longed for some fresh air to slake his lustful thoughts.

“Would you please hand me the ladle behind you, along with the straining cloths?”

Reaching behind him, he passed the items to her around the boiling vat of brew. His eyes riveted to a bead of perspiration on Lecie’s temple as it tracked down her face to her neck before soaking into her thin linen chemise.

Albin watched in torment as Lecie leaned forward to stir the vat, her breasts straining against the fabric of her brown kirtle. Shifting uncomfortably on the stool he perched on, he vowed to show more appreciation for the work that went into brewing ale. 

Glancing over at him, Lecie paused in her task to straighten. “Is it too hot in here for you, Sir Albin?”

“Nothing I cannot handle.” Swallowing hard, he shook his head. “I rather hoped there would be something more I could lend assist with, however.”

“Brewing is a more time consuming task than a strenuous one.” Lecie wiped the back of her hand along her beaded brow. “After soaking the barley for several days I drain the water to germinate the barley. Once that is done the malt is dried and ground, hot water added, and the wort drained off.” With a sly smile she added, “Only then is yeast added with my secret recipe of herbs.”

“I never realized the effort that went into it brewing.” Albin moistened his lips as he watched another glistening bead of sweat slide along the curve of Lecie’s neck to soak into the neckline of her chemise. “Still I can vouch to you having the best ale I have ever tasted.”

“It is my mother’s recipe, handed down to her by her mother.”

“Henceforth I vow I shall take the time to enjoy it more.”

“I have never doubted your fondness for it, Sir Albin.” Lecie laughed. “In the past, I put barley to soak the moment you arrived in Rochester.”

“Forgive me.” Albin grew serious. “I feel guilty for adding to your burden.”

“Do not be. Your patronage alone has kept the family well fed,” Lecie teased with a smile.

“Do you ever grow weary of it?”

“Not as of yet, it reminds me of the times I spent alongside my mother.” Running the back of her hand along her forehead, she sighed. “Still, I do tend to dread it at times when it is so warm outside.”

“In those times, you should not have to do it at all,” Albin observed softly. “With all else you have to do, surely there is someone else who can see to the task on occasion?”

“I fear until Clayton comes of age, there is no other. The inn cannot afford to hire any more hands. As it is, we are fortunate Betta, Harsent and Gunilda do an equal share of the daily work.”

“It seems to me the inn should be quite profitable,” Albin replied with a perplexed look. “How old is the young lad again?”

“This winter he will be passing into his sixth year.”

“Lecie, it will be years yet before he is able to take over the running of the inn. You cannot keep up the amount of work you take upon yourself indefinitely.”

“You speak as if I have a choice, Sir Albin.”

“Surely Hamon could do more around the place?” Reaching for a ladle, he began to stir in clockwise motions the way she was doing.

“I have asked only to be ignored.” Lecie studied his hands as they found a stirring rhythm. “I have even put our stable boy to work in the common room on the occasions Hamon has gone missing.”

“I never realized how difficult running an inn could be,” Albin observed, entranced by the glistening sweat on Lecie’s neck.

“You are a knight of the realm, Sir Albin. I would say what you do is considerably harder.”

“In case you have not heard, I am more of a retired knight of the realm now.” Albin chuckled. “I am afraid our good King Henry is no longer all that fond of Fulke’s ragtag band of knights.”

“Through passing travelers, I have heard some rumors of late.” Lecie paused in her stirring. “Surely, the tales have been exaggerated?”

“That all depends on who said them.” Albin stopped stirring to look at her. “What rumors have you heard?”

“I heard word that in full court Baron Erlegh all but challenged King Henry on behalf of his wife.”

“I do not know how much of a challenge there was, yet that sounds about right,” Albin agreed. “It was definitely implied that my liege would do whatever it took to keep his beloved safe.”

“Surely you jest.” Lecie smiled as she began stirring again. “Even his lordship would not be so bold as to challenge the king.”

“I am deadly serious,” Albin admitted. “Seeing my liege and lady surrounded by men at arms with swords drawn is a vision I shall carry with me to the end of my days.”

“So it really is true?” Lecie’s hands stilled as she met his somber gaze. “Even the part where you would have fought the king’s men?”

“It did not come to that, lass,” Albin confided. “Still, had we not been ordered otherwise by Fulke, to a man our swords would have been drawn.”

“Surely it would have meant death for you all.” Her eyes searching his face, Lecie frowned. 

“Fulke is not only my liege, he is my oldest friend. He would have done the same for me.”

“You are so brave,” she said softly. “All of you are.”

“A man will do anything for the woman he loves.” Albin broke her intense gaze by focusing on his stirring. “As to being brave, I am no braver than you.”

“Me? What would make you say such a thing?”

“What you do is as brave and noble a calling as what I do.”

“Brewing ale?” Her heartfelt laugh filled the small shed. “I have always been aware of your fondness for the brew, Sir Albin. If I knew to what extent, I would have more often gifted you with some on your departures from Rochester.”

“No.” He smiled to see her so relaxed. “I meant all that you do. Few men could handle the burdens you have undertaken.”

“I am neither brave nor noble, Sir Albin.” Sobering, she looked away. “There are times when I wish I was never born into such a life as this.”

Cursing himself for bringing up something unpleasant, he reached out to touch her hand. “It does not make you less brave or noble to wish for something better, Lecie.”

“You are kind to say so.” Studying his hand resting lightly on hers, she straightened to catch her breath.

“You think too highly of me. I am not always kind.”

“I do not think so, Sir Albin. I have never seen you to be anything less than kind.”

Focused on her parted lips, Albin began to close the distance between them. “If you knew where my thoughts lay, you would think otherwise.”

“Tell me what you are thinking right this moment,” she whispered as she raised her face to his.

They abruptly broke apart as the door swung out.

Sticking her head in, Betta said, “Hamon has been found and is looking to answer your summons, Lecie. I told him I did not know where you were.”

“Thank you, Betta,” Lecie called in a shaking voice. “I shall speak to him as soon as we are finished here.”

Watching the door swing shut, Albin turned back to Lecie. “Why does Edric trust Hamon so much, when he is so lax in his duties?”

Obviously disappointed, Lecie hesitantly returned to stirring. “Hamon has been the tapster here for so long I do not think he ever gave it much thought.”

“I see,” Albin murmured.

“You do not like Hamon, Sir Albin?”

“No,” he admitted. “I do not.”

“Then that is another thing we have in common.” Stirring herbs and yeast into the vat, Lecie leaned back. “It needs a few days to sour. Still, if you would like a taste you are welcome to it.”

About to question her feelings towards Hamon, Lecie’s offer distracted him. “I never turn down ale.”

Reaching for an earthenware cup, she ladled some ale into it. Handing it to him, she stood. “Best let it cool a spell. There is not much to boast about hot ale.”

  Taking the cup, his fingers brushed hers. “Thank you.”

“I appreciate your assistance.” She smiled shyly. “Thank you for keeping me company”

“It has been my pleasure,” he replied softly. His chainse and breeches soaked with sweat, he tugged on his black tunic. “If you permit, I would make use of the bathing room.”

“Let me meet with Hamon and I shall heat the water for you,” she offered. “It shall not take me but a moment.”

“You will do no such thing.” Following her out of the shed, they stood a moment enjoying the cool breeze on their overheated skin.

Albin stared at her profile as she turned her smiling face to the sun. Inhaling deeply, she stood for a moment with her eyes closed. “I do so love the autumn.”

“I love it more than you will ever know,” he responded softly.

Her lips quirking, she glanced sideways at him. “I have never heard a man say such a thing.”

Clearing his throat, Albin kicked a stone beneath his black boot. “It is a good season.”

“Aye, it is,” she agreed with a sigh. “I fear I have tarried long enough. I best see to Hamon.”

With a parting smile, she left him staring after her as she entered the kitchen.

Lost in thought, Albin was about to enter the common room when the irritation he heard in Lecie’s voice drew his full attention. 

“What business is it of yours where I have been keeping
myself
? I needed your assistance earlier and
you
were once again nowhere to be found.”

“When are you going to realize you are going to need me?” Hamon replied smoothly. “I can take care of you and the children once Edric has passed.”

Anger surged through Albin drawing his hands into fists. Striding through the doorway, his gaze bore down on Hamon. “Is there a problem here, Lecie?”

“No, Sir Albin,” Lecie assured him. “On occasion I find it necessary to remind Hamon of his duties here.”

“I know my duties,” Hamon grumbled.

“Then I suggest you be about them.” Albin stepped beside Lecie to cross his arms over his chest. “Especially since you have been absent for most of the morn.”

“I have dealings of import to discuss with Lecie in private,” Hamon shot back without moving.

“Then I suggest you stop wasting time and conclude your
dealings
so Lecie can be on her way.”

“I said they were private. I shall not speak in front of you.” Narrowing his eyes, Hamon gave Albin the once over. “The inn is no business of yours.”

“It is not any of yours either, Hamon,” Lecie snapped. “Nor will I have any dealings with you of a private nature.”

Refusing to budge, Albin quirked a brow.

“The booth is set in the square for the festival,” Hamon grumbled. “Gunilda said she would work it for a week’s lodging.”

“Tell her that will be fine,” Lecie replied. “I suggest you make preparations to have enough barrels on hand for this evening. So close to the end of harvest, villagers will have coin to spend.”

Moving behind the bar, Hamon glared at Albin. “How long will you be staying in Rochester, Sir Albin?”

“As long as I like,” Albin sneered, moving to follow Lecie up the steps. 

Watching the gentle sway of her hips beneath her flowing skirts, he quickly averted his eyes when she paused outside the master chamber. “Are you sure you do not need assist with your bath, Sir Albin?”

Forbidden images of Lecie’s naked flesh pressed against him flashed through his mind as he focused on her inviting smile. His throat suddenly dry, he shook his head. “I can manage, lass.”

Once he was soaking in the cool water of a full tub, he listened to Lecie as she moved through tidying the chambers with Betta. Discerning the raised voices of children in the passage, he rinsed in a rush. Opening the door, he spotted Lecie speaking with them in a room just off the access ladder to the attic. 

“I will hear no more about it, Clayton,” Lecie scolded. “You are going to take a bath after Osana and Sabina.”

Stepping into the passage, her face flushed with color when she spotted Albin watching her.

“You cannot blame him, Lecie,” Albin spoke in Clayton’s defense. “No lad that age cares much for washing.”

“True as that may be, I fear I have been lax on keeping after him about it.”

“It is obvious you have had other things on your mind,” he said approaching her.

“More like I feel too much is expected of them so tend to overlook their minor failings,” she admitted.

“Would you permit me to take them to the festival in the square? If you could spare them for a time, I am sure it is something the children would enjoy. They often have minstrels, jesters and the like to entertain the crowds.”

“They do indeed. The villagers speak of little else for a sennight afterwards.”