Perfect Knave by Kress Alyssa

Author:Kress, Alyssa
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, love, adventure, humor, england, historical, renaissance, rogue, romp, shakespearean
Publisher: Alyssa Kress

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"I tell you, mistress, 'tis not a good time to plant."

Moll's voice floated toward Emile from the kitchen. It wafted over the newly hoed garden beds he traversed on his way in to the tavern. "The moon is waning," Moll added. "Tomorrow just will not do."

"Does it take a phase of the moon to milk the cow?" Lucy's voice carried forth in reply, crisp and authoritative.

Emile halted. Lucy was in the kitchen.

As he stood there, delaying his entry, Moll hurried out the door. Pulling her shawl about her shoulders with a scowl, she did not notice Emile lurking in the dusky shadows. He could slip away.

But he hadn't eaten since yesterday, and he could hardly avoid his wife forever. Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the threshold.

Lucy swiveled.

Instantly, Emile felt the ground drop from under his feet. The details of the night before rushed back at him: the give of her flesh beneath his hands, the tangy heat of her lips, and the hot, mad hunger he'd felt driven to satisfy.

As their eyes met now, Emile knew Lucy remembered it, too.

Then she quickly bent over her kettle.

Biting his moustache, he stepped into the kitchen.

Lucy busied herself with whatever was in the pot, stirring and moving things around. Emile was not fooled. He knew what she was thinking.

The same thing he was thinking.

Fortunately, they were not alone in the kitchen. Gawain sat at the table, glaring at Emile over the remains of a meal.

Warily, Emile edged toward Gawain. He seemed a safer bet than Lucy. Aye, while Lucy wanted to bed Emile, the steward only wanted to pound the stuffing out of him.

"I, um, thought there might be something left of supper to eat." Emile's stomach growled. From where he stood, he could only see Lucy's back, bent over her kettle.

"Ahem. I suppose there is a bit of pottage." Lucy's voice was too high. She reached to the side for a trencher.

Emile sucked in his lips. He could hardly blame the woman for wanting to pursue the matter he'd so idiotically begun the night before. Physically, he'd left her hanging. But Lucy didn't know that Emile had entirely high-minded reasons for holding aloof from her.

Gawain growled and scraped back his stool. As he drew to his feet, his glare toward Emile darkened.

Emile tensed, readying for battle. Gawain had warned him what would happen if Emile dared lay a hand on his wife. Gawain had no idea how deeply Emile himself regretted the caresses he'd given Lucy. Emile knew making love to Lucy would be a disaster.

"You, there," Gawain snarled, "should come outside with me before you eat."

"No." Dropping the trencher she'd begun to fill, Lucy turned swiftly. "Gawain, you go out...feed the pig. Emile and I— We have business to discuss."

Gawain stared at his mistress.

Emile swallowed. He would rather face Gawain's fists than be left alone with Lucy.

But Gawain lost his defiant expression. With his lashes lowering, he told Lucy, "As you wish." Then, to Emile's dismay, he walked out the door.

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