A Mischievous Tale of Magical Mayhem

17 | Commandments and Kisses

Ben stared at the place Tallon had occupied, at a complete loss. If not for the fact he was still sitting in a tub, he'd have thought the whole thing was a fever dream.

Maisie poked her head in through the open door and frowned at him.

"What did you say to him now?"

Ben shook his head. "I... Nothing... I mean..."

Huffing in exasperation, Maisie entered the room and grabbed a towel from the pile. "Come on, then. Up with you." She grabbed Ben by the arm, hauled him to his feet, and handed him the towel. She was surprisingly strong for her size.

Blushing, Ben wrapped the towel around his waist. Maisie yanked it free again and tossed it in his face, nearly making him topple over.

"Don't dress yourself in it, you ninny. Dry yourself off. And stop blushing like a virgin. I've seen a man's bits before, and they're not all that. 'Sides, I know you've no interest in me any more than I've eyes for you. Now our elven friend, on the other hand..."

She turned away, making a pretense of straightening the stack of towels and giving Ben a moment to dry off and dress himself in the clean clothes Tallon had laid out for him.

"The two of you better get things ironed out twixt the pair of ye. I don't mind bein' maid to you both, but I'll be damned if I've got to spend two more weeks with m'lord moping like a kicked puppy. You sure you didn't say aught to upset him?"

Ben opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish drowning in air. He hardly knew what he'd said, and wasn't sure he hadn't imagined Tallon's reply.

Maisie sighed. "Fine. Get yourself fed and back to bed. I'll go after him. He's run off soaked through and without his hat and coat."

Grabbing these two items, she left in pursuit.

Downstairs, Maisie inquired at the bar if anyone had seen someone of Tallon's description pass through, and was informed (amid a good bit of laughter) that her master had taken off across the street and into the fallow fields beyond.

Hitching up her skirts, Maisie followed in that direction, mindful of her footing on the uneven ground. At last she spotted Tallon at the edge of the grassy meadow, leaning against the bole of a tree, and approached.

"M'lord?" she called. "Are ye quite alright?"

Tallon saw her approach and jumped to his feet, brushing wet grass from his filthy trousers. "Yes, of course. I apologize," he stammered, staring at his feet. "I needed air. The steam made the washroom too hot."

"Right. The steam." Maisie eyed him shrewdly as she handed him his coat. "Never seen a bit of steam make a man run from a room afore, but there's a first time for everything."

Tallon shrugged into his coat and wiped his eyes. Maisie was perceptive—he should have known better than to lie. But he did it anyway. "I didn't run; I moved at a brisk pace."

Hands on her hips, Maisie sighed. "Me dad used to say there's different kinds o' trouble. Some you can run from; some you've got to face. Unless you plan to leave Ben behind, this is the sort you've got to face. You can't flee like a scared cat every time he speaks."

Hanging his head, Tallon mumbled, "You're right. Ben just gets my pants in a bunch, and I couldn't begin to explain why. He wants ki—things, but then pushes me away. He wanted to come on this journey, but then said he couldn't stay. Now he wants to continue again. I don't have the first idea what he wants or how to reassure him."

Despite the chilled air rapidly descending in temperature, Tallon's entire face burned. He didn't want Maisie to see him in such a dreadful state, but he knew she wouldn't leave if he asked. Then she'd catch cold, and it would be his fault.