the Tale of Sir Isaac



“I’m the housekeeper, ducky,” she said comfortably, still smiling broadly. “Come now, out of the bed, there’s much to do and you’ve kept to yourselves long enough.”

Summer sighed, closing her eyes. “Maire, we were busy,” she said meaningfully.

“Sure, and don’t I know it, and aren’t we all pleased as punch for it, darling, but the sun’s high and the seneschal’s impatient, and so’s the seamstress.” The housekeeper pulled at the blankets, tugging them away. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”

“I thought I was a princess,” Summer muttered.

Isaac wasn’t entirely used to being naked around any other female other than Summer, and this housekeeper didn’t seem at all bothered by their appearance at all. In fact, he’d even go as far as to say that she was amused, and he didn’t quite know how to react to that.

“Excuse me — ” he intervened, before faltering and eyeing her skeptically, wondering just how far the gossip of their love-making would travel, and he frowned slightly. Reaching down to cup at himself as she whipped away the blankets, Isaac whirled to face Summer, wordlessly begging her to keep the servants under control, even if he did quite like this fussing, motherly figure.

Summer pleaded, “Maire, please go away,” scrabbling to pull at least one bit of fabric over them. “I promise we’ll get up. Just please go away?”

The housekeeper tsked, but somehow managed to bustle across the few steps to the door. “I’ll be back in half a candlemark, darling, see that you do. Don’t let the handsome lad distract you, now.”

And then she was gone, the door closed behind her, and Summer dropped flat on the bed with a huff. “Oh my God,” she said, half-laughing. “I swear I didn’t know she would do that, I promise, that wasn’t supposed to happen, she usually leaves me alone.” She peeked at Isaac. “Are you angry with me?”

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