Page 139 of Kneel Before Me

She certainly was. “Shall I help you up?”

Daphne glanced at him and nodded.

Maximus took it as a good sign that she didn’t refuse his assistance. He extended his hand, guiding her to the side of the saddle.

“Hold that”—he pointed at the pommel—“and put your foot here”—he nodded at the stirrup—“and I will lift you the rest of the way.”

Daphne hesitated, but eventually, she placed her hand on the pommel. He grabbed her waist as she stepped into the stirrup, hoisting her onto the saddle. She went easily, letting out a tiny gasp when she was fully seated. Maximus mounted right behind her, pulling himself up and settling in behind her. If Daphne thought it was strange that they were sharing a horse, she didn’t say so. There were plenty of horses in the stables; it would have been no trouble whatsoever to select two of them. But Maximus had chosen one on purpose—to force proximity—to make it so that their bodies would be pressed together as they rode. He did not care if it was crude. He wanted to touch her. And touch her he did.

He took the reins in one hand and wrapped his other around her waist, pulling her body close. Daphne did not resist; she leaned back against him, both of her hands holding on to the pommel as Maximus nudged the horse into a gentle canter. He took them along the trail that encircled the castle, ensuring they did not go too fast. The last thing he needed was Daphne falling off a horse during her very first ride.

By the time they reached the maze, the wind had picked up. Maximus’s vision was suddenly full of curls as Daphne’s hood blew from her head. He didn’t mind; her hair smelled like her. Still, it wasn’t ideal conversation conditions. He cast around for a good place to stop, settling on the clearing directly behind the maze. Daphne shifted as the horse came to a halt. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Maximus thought about the last time he’d been here, when he’d looked out over the village and wondered what Daphne was doing. Now he was here with her, and he decided to ask her one of the questions he’d thought of that night.

“How do you take your steak?”

Daphne let out an incredulous sound. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I don’t know nearly enough about you.”

“Perhaps that’s by design.”

“If it is, I didn’t consent to it.”

She giggled at that but didn’t reply.

“Daphne.” He gave her a little squeeze. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t eat a lot of steak.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…fancy…I guess.”

He smiled. “You could eat it anytime you like at the castle.”

“Are you going to cook it for me?”

Maximus frowned, realizing suddenly that he’d never cooked anything in his life, much less a steak. “I would have the kitchen cook it for you.”

“Hmm,” she said. Her displeasure was obvious.

“Would you prefer I cook it for you?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I’ve never cooked it before?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s about the gesture. It would show me that you care.”

“I care regardless of my cooking capabilities.”

As soon as he said it, he hoped that she believed it. There was a pause, and he thought she might debate him. Instead, she asked, “How do you take your steak?”

“Medium rare.”