It was still entirely inappropriate to smile, probably, but Max smiled anyway. "Then I suppose the only question remaining, sir, is this: would you grant me the honor of your hand in marriage?" He held his right hand out.
Kelcey placed his in it and squeezed gently. "The honor is mine, sir, and I grant it gladly."
Max laughed and let go, gestured with a batting motion. "Then do tell, my dear sir, how we are to make our grand escape?"
Grinning, Kelcey explained.
Chapter Six
Max grunted as sunlight seared his eyes, closed them again, and burrowed into the soft, warm sheets, relishing the faint scent of peaches that clung to them.
Something about the observation nagged at him, but he pushed the niggling away in favor of drifting back into a light slumber.
He was stirred from his dozing by the sound of clinking china, the rustle of fabric, and slippers on carpet. Pulling the blankets down slightly so he could see, yawning so hard his eyes watered, Max blinked groggily at the unfamiliar woman across the room. She was dressed in a blue and cream uniform, hair neatly tucked away beneath a cap, and was briskly arranging breakfast on the large round table set in a half-circle nook that overlooked a bright blue sky.
Canary. The Canary Hotel. His sleepiness vanished as reality returned with a rush. He'd eloped with Kelcey.
He
had
eloped
with
Kelcey.
It was the strangest thought to ever enter his head, all the stranger for being a fact.
There was a cough, and Max saw the woman had finished setting out breakfast and was awaiting further instruction from him. "Do you know where Kel—my, uh, where my husband has gone?"
"He left you a note, my lord," the woman said, hastily ducking her head in an attempt to hide a grin. "But I believe he went into town. Was there anything else I could help you with?"
"A robe?" Max asked, belatedly recalling that his clothes had been taken away and he had no others. He had eaten breakfast naked before, but only when he was completely alone with no risk of being seen.
"Right behind that screen, my lord. Ring if you've need of anything else. Good day, my lord."
"Good day, thank you," Max replied. When she had gone, he threw back the covers and padded over to the ornate maroon screen painted with green and gold birds. He saw a handsome blue robe with white flowers and pulled it on, belting it shut as he walked over to the table and took a seat.
The tea was hot, well-brewed, with that faint hint of peach that seemed to permeate everything. When he'd finished half a cup of tea he started helping himself to the food: fruit, sausages, bread with butter and honey, oatmeal with cream and brown sugar.
It was easy to pretend he was taking a trip with his sister, that he would soon be meeting her to go hawking or visit a gallery, or even tolerate being dragged through a dozen shops.
Easy to ignore that he had flagrantly disobeyed a royal order, married a man he barely knew, and run away with no idea where they were going or how long they would be gone.
It was far less easy to ignore that his husband was not where Max had expected him to be. Stupid to be hurt, but he had thought to wake up next to Kelcey and perhaps explore what had begun in the carriage where they'd planned their escape.
He finished his tea and set the cup down with a hard clack, shoved it all away, and leaned back in his seat, turning to stare out at the ocean beyond. Lingering tension from their frantic flight faded off as he savored his meal, savored being warm and still a little sleepy, instead of cold and anxious and afraid. Escaping Pennington's clutches had not been easy, and required leaving all of their possessions behind. They would not even have funds save for the fact Max always kept a purse hidden away in a secret compartment in his carriage.
After successfully eluding Pennington and his thugs they had headed for Parron City, a tense, exhausting two day journey. Once there, however, they had been married with little fuss. They'd lingered there only long enough to hastily eat before pressing on. Another three days of travel along the coast brought them to the port town of Shelrow, where they booked passaged on a ship that would take them to Basten, a large city that led to practically everywhere.
Unfortunately, their ship did not depart for five more days, which meant there was entirely too much time in which Pennington might find them. On a more positive note, it also left them time aplenty to purchase clothes and other miscellany that would make their travels a good deal more pleasant.
It had also led to their first argument, since Max had refused to set foot in the dubious, albeit discreet, inns that Kelcey had suggested. An hour of bickering later, they had settled on the Canary Hotel.
Kelcey's recalcitrance had quieted somewhat in the face of a hot bath, good soap, and a bed that had him asleep in minutes. Max had snickered about that a bit before sleep took him as well.
He glared at the empty bed. Where was his stupid husband?
Note. The servant had said that Kelcey had left a note. He looked around the room—ah, there on the table by the door. Crossing the room, he picked up the folded slip of paper and read.
Max,
Went to obtain necessaries. Will return eventually to drag you out as well since I doubt either of us wants me selecting your clothes.
K
Max laughed. Tucking the note in his pocket, he went to finish breakfast, lingering over his second cup of tea as he continued to admire the beach. Pity they were not staying at the Canary overlong; it seemed an excellent place to spend a few days.
When he had drained the last bit of tea, he rose and returned to the screen to see if perhaps his clothes had been returned already. And so they had, neatly folded or hanging from hooks, looking nearly as good as new, which was impressive given the horrible state of them after being worn for so many days in a row. Stripping off his robe, Max quickly dressed, mouth quirking as that peach scent once again washed over him.
It felt more than a little silly to don formal clothes as though they were afternoon dress, but hopefully that problem could be fixed quickly.
Assuming Kelcey ever returned, of course. Max prowled the room, touching and fussing and growing increasingly bored. Perhaps he should venture out on his own. He and Kelcey were bound to cross paths at some point; it was not as though it was a large town, and they had the same goals. Why should he wait around like a helpless young fool?
Max shrugged into his coat, then departed, heading down the hall to the stairs. The lobby smelled of sea air and peaches, a hint of something warmer mingling with it. A fountain in the middle of the lobby filled the enormous space with pleasant noise as people bustled through or milled about.
Max stepped outside, pausing to turn his face up to the sunshine and breathe in the smell of the sea. A cool breeze bathed his face as he left the hotel and headed into town. The streets were busy when he reached it, though not overcrowded; a few people gave him odd looks but otherwise he was left in peace.
Where would Kelcey have gone? They needed … well, pretty much everything. Who knew how long they would be gone; the bare minimum was two months, but there was always the slim chance the wedding would be delayed. But if he was correct about the princess being pregnant, the chance was very slim indeed.
Max slowed as the cry of a paperboy caught his attention, and paused to hand over a coin and take a paper. Tucking it under his arm, he crossed the street to a tearoom and slipped inside. Taking a seat and ordering a pot of tea, he opened the paper and began idly to read.
His eyes caught on a familiar name—Harold Lancer, the university professor who had headed the expedition Max had joined. He'd forgotten, in the chaos that had met his return home, that Professor Lancer was due to give a presentation on their early discoveries and future plans. A pity he'd not been able to bring along his own work; his team would be most irate that all of his reports were going to be late—reprehensibly late, assuming he managed to write them at all.
Further down the page was an article about the Gorson Award. Nominations had begun and finalists would be announced the beginning of next year. Max folded the paper and set it aside, scowled at his tea.
"You look terribly depressed for a newly married man."
Max startled, fingers knocking into the cup he'd been about to pick up, and jerked his head up to direct his scowl at Kelcey. "You take entirely too much pleasure in being sneaky."
Kelcey laughed and dropped down into the seat next to him. "I am not sneaky, merely quiet, and you are the one who keeps forgetting the fact. I was headed back to the hotel when I saw you sitting here. What has you looking so despondent?"
"Despondent? Nothing that dramatic, and nothing important. How has the shopping gone?"
"Shopping." Kelcey shrugged. "I've obtained trunks, toiletries, stationary sets, various and sundry other items that I thought would be nice to have. It will all be delivered over the next couple of days. All that is wanting is clothes, and I made arrangements with a shop that promised they could have everything altered and ready in time for our departure."
Max smiled. "You are efficient, sir, an admirable quality."
"I think under the circumstances you can use my name," Kelcey said.
"True," Max replied. He took a sip of tea, then tested the name out. "Kelcey."
Kelcey grinned, then neatly stole his teacup and drained it. Giving it back, he took the paper and began to skim it. Max snorted softly and refilled his cup, sipping at it as he stared out the window at all the people passing by. What would he be doing if he was at home? Frantically trying to finish his reports, or more likely letting himself be hopelessly distracted by Kelcey.
He could not believe they were married. It was not something he had ever truly expected to happen to him, as reserved and strange as society regarded him. What was he supposed to do with a spouse gained under such peculiar circumstances?
Certainly he knew what he
wanted
to do. That fleeting kiss remained vividly in mind … but since that moment, they seemed to have settled into a cautious friendship and he was at a loss as to how to change that. No etiquette lesson hammered into his head ever covered such a situation. He'd had a glimmer of a plan upon waking, but Kelcey's absence had dashed it.
Friendship was the wisest decision, but dissatisfaction gnawed at him. Max wanted to return to the hotel, crawl back into bed, and pretend that all was well and normal for a few more hours.
"This is your expedition," Kelcey said.
Max turned back to him. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Professor Lancer headed it; he's a brilliant man, specializes in goblin weaponry. Working with him was an honor."
"Shouldn't you be attending this?" Kelcey folded the paper again and set in on the table, mouth pulled down in a tight frown as he tapped the article with his fingers. "You should be there."
"Not at all," Max said, waving the words away. "He's only doing an introductory presentation. Full lectures will be done year after next, throughout the year as a series of guest lectures. Mine will likely not even be approved, though in compensation they may assign me something less controversial to prattle about."
"They won't let you talk about magic?"
Max laughed. "Of course not. The term is 'magic theory' because that's all I do—theorize. There is plenty of evidence to support my theories, but all that evidence is subjective, inconclusive. Most people consider me a crackpot; even you were surprised that was my focus of study. No one is going to let me stain such an important new discovery with crazy theories."
"But you were invited to join the expedition; that must mean someone has faith in your studies."
"I was invited because of my expertise in goblin biology and 'chemical' weaponry. That is why you saw me studying goblin blood the one day. I was running tests to finish a series of long-running experiments. I was allowed to pursue my 'eccentric studies' in my free time, but that was all. Professor Lancer thinks my ideas are not without merit, but he was not funding the expedition."
Kelcey's frowned deepened, etching deep lines into his brow. Max started to lean over to smooth them away, then wondered what the devil was wrong with him. "I'm sorry you face so many challenges. I do not know how anyone can consider you less than brilliant. Perhaps I do not know much about science, but my understanding from the books I've read is that most of what we accept as truth now started out as the musings of a so-called crackpot."
Max opened his mouth, closed it again, and swallowed, staring at the table too overwhelmed to speak.
"I—did I say something wrong?" Kelcey's fingertips lightly touched the back of his hand.
"Wrong?" Max laughed shakily and finally looked up, smiling at the concern on Kelcey's face. "Sir, you said very much the right thing. If we were not in a public place I would kiss you madly."
Kelcey's mouth dropped open before he closed it with an audible clack and gave Max a grin that was equal parts eager and shy. "I will hold you to that later, my lord."
Max returned the smile as he stood, setting coins on the table to pay for the tea. "Shall we attend to the matter of clothes?"
"We shall." Standing, Kelcey offered his arm. Max took it, letting Kelcey wend them through the bustling streets to a quaint little shop a couple of blocks away.
A smartly dressed elderly woman greeted them, smiling as she recognized Kelcey. "Hello again, my lord. I see you found your husband. Congratulations to you both. If you'll come this way, I have a dressing room prepared for you and several items for you to try."
She led them down a short hallway to a room all the way at the end. It was pretty, with green and white striped walls and a green, yellow, and blue paisley rug on a polished floor of warm-gold wood. There was no window, but several bright lamps with colorful shades cast plenty of light. Nodding to a pile of clothing on a large table, she said, "Clothes for you to look through. Once you've made your selections, ring the bell, and I'll send someone to measure for alterations."