hands on since arriving.
"Nay!" she went on, all happy concern. "There will be no bread and cheese for my lord. Nay. I have a special surprise for you."
"A surprise?" Hethe asked warily. He was hardly comforted to see that his reaction sparked some mysterious pleasure in her.
"Aye. I asked Sir William what your favorite breakfast was, and then I made it for you," she announced.
She made a quick motion and plopped a tray of pastries before him.
Hethe blinked in surprise at the offering. They looked perfect. Absolutely delicious. They smelled good too. And these pastries were his favorite. He glanced warily from the food to her innocently smiling face.
She had gone to the trouble of making them for him herself? For one desperately hungry moment, he allowed himself to believe that he might have been wrong about her intentions. Perhaps he had misunderstood, and she was not waging war against him. Perhaps she was truly trying to impress him!
The thought died an abrupt death as Hethe picked up one of the confections and bit into it. Or tried to bite into it. He nearly snapped a tooth off in the effort. Good God! It was as hard as a rock! It was also salty and dry, he learned as the bite he had taken began to slowly dissolve inside his mouth.
"How are they?" she asked with almost believable anxiety, then added uncertainly, "This was my first effort at baking. Cook did not like the idea of my fussing about in his kitchen, but he relented. Is it all right?" When Hethe hesitated, unable to answer because he was still rolling the bit of rock-hard pastry around in his mouth, afraid to swallow, she began to wring her hands in an excellent portrayal of an anxious betrothed. "You don't like them! Oh I knew it was a mistake, but I wanted so much to do something to please you and - "
"I love them," Hethe abruptly lied to silence her. The woman was carrying on so, Templetun had started to glare at him for upsetting her. Which no doubt had been her plan. She was trying to make him look bad in front of the king's chaplain. No doubt, should he not eat the damn things, she would manage to make him look like some sort of uncaring beast. Hethe made a face, then swallowed his first bite determinedly. A heartbeat later he was grabbing up the ale she had set on the table nearby. The pebble-like bite of sweet bread had got stuck halfway down his throat, and he was hoping to wash it down with the ale. The ale was warm, flat, and tasted like urine, of course, but it did the trick and loosened the bit of food lodged in his esophagus. He was almost sure he felt it splash in his stomach, rather like a stone dropping into a well.
"Really? You really like it?" she asked, but he thought her irritation must be affecting her acting abilities, because she appeared to be overplaying her anxiety. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath in preparation of facing her and turned to beam blindingly at her. "Aye, my lady. They are quite delicious.
Just the way I like them, in fact."
"Oh." Her jaw tightened, and he caught a flash of fury in her eyes before she managed to cover it. That was when the idea struck him. He acted on it at once.
"But I mustn't be greedy and hog them all to myself. Surely you will join me? They are the result of your hard efforts, after all." He pushed the tray toward her.
"Oh, nay, my lord. I made them for you." She pushed the tray back.
"Oh, come now," he cajoled, taking one of the pastries and offering it up to her. "You should try your own handiwork."
"Oh, nay, I - " She floundered briefly, then suddenly smiled widely at him. "I have already eaten and am too full to have more. They are rather large."
Hethe's eyes narrowed. "Aye. They are," he agreed slowly, but he wasn't going to be put off. "Perhaps just a taste, then."
While she watched with growing consternation, he made a great show of attempting, and failing, to break a piece off. He saw her panicked glance toward her aunt and knew exactly what that woman intended when she began to babble at Lord Templetun, also drawing William's attention away from what Hethe was doing by pulling him into the conversation. Hethe let her get