the Tale of Sir Isaac



“It would take the servants half a candlemark to bring enough water to fill a bath up here, let alone heat it.” Summer poked at the food on the tray; oat porridge and eggs and preserved fruits, sweet and thick with honey. Not for the mornings the delicate finger foods sent to tempt them last night; she held out a piece of bread heavy with bits of dried apple and nuts for Isaac.

He sighed deeply and filed away the desire for later — after all, they had plenty of time to bathe together, providing they could convince the servants to indulge them, of course. Eyeing her outstretched hand with a smile, he took the bread from her and bit into the crust, humming appreciatively at the taste. ā€œIā€™m tempted to stay here forever, simply for the food alone!ā€ he teased with a crooked smile, after chewing and swallowing his current mouthful.

They made brief work of the breakfast, though it was effort to keep their hands from one another. When Maire blew back in, therefore, Summer cast an apologetic glance at Isaac. Going to him, she touched his cheek and whispered, “I’ll see you later today, alright?”

“Come on, ducky, it’s time to measure you for the wedding dress.”

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