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“There is a kitchen next tae the garden,” she said, pointing towards the north. “Do ye remember when I took ye there?”

Esme nodded. “Aye,” she said. “Thank you. Can I bring you something, too? For your husband, mayhap?”

Isadora smiled, touching Esme sweetly on the cheek. “Nay, thank ye, lass,” she said. “It is kind tae offer. Cam willna eat – he’ll simply want tae sleep and I’ll be lucky if he makes it tae the bed before he does. If ye dunna need my help, then I’ll see ye when the sun rises.”

Esme smiled in return. “You will, indeed,” she said. “And… thank you for being so kind to me today. You and Lilia have been very gracious, and I am appreciative.”

Isadora winked at her and turned for her cottage, which wasn’t too far. As she walked away, Esme went in search of food for Titus. She made her way through the darkened edge of the village, up a footpath, and ended up in a clearing where the garden and one of the big kitchens were located. There were just a few people in the kitchen, and she came away with her very own iron pot of stew and an entire loaf of bread.

Making her way back to the cottage, she quickly went to work preparing the meal for Titus’ return. There was some excitement, welcoming home the man who had won both of his bouts for the night.

As she stoked the fire and hung the pot of stew over it to keep it warm, she prepared the small table for his meal. He had bowls and utensils in the cottage, but they looked as if they hadn’t been used in months. Rinsing them out and then drying them, she put them on the table, neatly arranged.

As Esme waited for Titus, she tidied up the cottage. While he’d slept that afternoon, she had swept and scrubbed the larger chamber, wiping down chairs and chests, and generally cleaning. His laundry had dried and she’d brought that in, neatly hanging his tunics on the pegs outside of his bedchamber and carefully folding the bed linens.

When he awoke, he’d shuffled out of the room, yawning, and muttered something about going to the arena. He’d walked right by her, smiling sleepily, and opened the door before he realized that he should probably say something to her. Then he paused, told her again where he was going, and she simply nodded. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he headed out into the waning day.

But there had been something in that gaze.

Esme’s heart fluttered simply to think on it. With freshly washed linens on his bed, swept dirt floors, scrubbed table, food, and clean clothing, she dared to wonder if this was what it would be like to wait for a husband’s return home. She couldn’t imagine doing this for Conan, but for Titus…

It was something she could get used to.

Unfortunately, the wait for Titus was a long one. Esme had fashioned a pallet for herself out of rushes and blankets, and it was shoved up against the wall so that her feet were near the hearth, and it was looking inviting as the minutes passed. She kept stirring the stew so it wouldn’t boil down, putting water in it to thin it out as she continued to wait. She finally sat down at the table, but that was the last thing she remembered before someone was gently shaking her.

In an instant, she was halfway out of her chair.

“I’m sorry,” she said before she was even fully awake. “I did not mean to sleep. I am awake.”

Strong hands were steadying her, and she looked up to see Titus grinning at her. “Easy, lass,” he said quietly, pushing her back down into the chair. “It’s very late. I thought for certain ye’d be in bed.”

Esme took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes. “I was waiting for you,” she said. “I have food if you are hungry.”

He looked at the pot on the hearth, steaming. “I suppose I could eat something if ye’ve gone to the trouble,” he said. “I dinna expect ye tae have food waiting.”

Esme popped up again out of her chair and rushed to the hearth with a bowl in her hand.

“Please, sit,” she said. “You must be famished after the evening you’ve had.”

Titus, swathed in a woolen cloak and his normal clothing of breeches and a tunic, began to remove the cloak.

“I saw ye in the lists,” he said, hanging up the cloak near the door. “What did ye think?”

Esme looked up from stirring the pot of stew. “I thought you were magnificent.”

He grinned. “I am,” he said. “I’m glad ye know it now.”

She returned his smile, staring at the man as if transfixed until the stew bubbled and a hot drop landed on her hand. That snapped her out of her trance, and she spooned the stew into the bowl until it was full. Carefully, she brought it back over to the table and set it down in front of him.

“This came from the kitchen,” she said. “I am sorry that I do not know how to cook, but I am happy to learn if it pleases you.”

He sat down wearily, collecting his spoon. “If I need a cook, I’ll hire one,” he said. “Ye dunna need tae learn just for me. Sit down and talk tae me. Tell me what ye thought of the fights tonight.”

Esme sat down across from him, feeling giddy in his presence. He looked as if he had bathed, for his hair was still wet and there wasn’t a speck of dust on him. She could smell something, too – the clean scent of pine.

He smelled as good as he looked.

“I thought it was… exciting,” she said, trying to pretend as if she had enjoyed it. “I’ve never seen such fights before.”