Chapter 9
"Countess Amelia, why is there a box in my car with your name on it?" asked Booth when she answered her cell phone.
"Oh...good, you got your clothes. I hope you like what I picked out for you," she answered. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything but it was supposed to be a surprise by royal request. If you hadn't found me, I was going to call you this afternoon to tell you about it, but as it happened, I didn't need to."
"While you were practicing your sword swings, I had one of the General's staff put the box in your car with my door key so you don't have to worry that someone broke in. I know it's short notice and I'll understand if you don't want to go but Helen (that's Queen Elexa) asked for my help to see if we would come to the Tavern tonight. It's expected to be a small gathering of about 40 or 50 people and really informal. They didn't know they would be able to attend this event until yesterday."
"They don't need to give us anything for doing our jobs," he replied, feeling a little uncertain about the evening. Of course, it was always appreciated when people they helped offered their thanks but this situation came with a set of protocols that were still unfamiliar territory.
"Yes, I know, but this is something they want to do in Sir Stephen's memory. His disappearance and then, having the person responsible, a former king no less, brought to justice is a unique opportunity to respond in a medievally appropriate way. Recognizing and rewarding chivalrous behaviour is all part of the SCA world. You were also injured, remember. I know it wasn't serious but I warned you about the theatrical aspect of the SCA," Brennan explained.
"All right. I guess if it means that much to them. So what do they want to give us?" he asked.
"Sorry, that's a surprise by that royal request I mentioned. You will just have to wait until tonight," she replied.
"If this is one of those presentations at court like you had to do this summer, I expect a full briefing on what I'm supposed to do," Booth insisted. "I'll pick you up at 6:30 at your place. I assume there will be food, right?"
"Yes, Booth. There will be food. I'm sure you'll find something you will enjoy. In fact, SCA events are well known for having more food than a normal person would expect to eat in a single meal. Even with my restrictions, I should have no problems finding selections for a full meal. You might think that there wouldn't be many vegetable dishes on the menu but you would be surprised. I'll see you later," she replied with a chuckle and ended the call.
A few hours later, Booth arrived at Brennan's door wearing the contents of the large box found in his car. He found her selections comfortable and hoped this time there wouldn't be any damage to fix like his last costume. He wore a loose fitting white cotton shirt with long full sleeves under a quilted black suede Renaissance doublet vest fastened down the front with leather lacing. Black trousers, tall black boots and the usual accessories of belt and pouch finished the costume. There had also been a knee length black and red lined cape but he left it in the car. If this was an old Errol Flynn movie, he'd fit right it. All that was missing was a rapier at his hip. It was just as well as he remembered that weapons were considered very bad manners when in the presence of royalty.
When she opened her door at his knock, she was surprised to find herself overcome at how well Booth wore the clothes she had picked out for him. She had a feeling this style would suit him and it did. He looked good, better than good. The shirt and vest seemed to show off his wide shoulders that she knew were very well developed and kept in excellent condition. Perhaps seeing him in action at fight practise earlier had triggered her physical response to his masculine nature. She felt an undeniable urge to reach out and ...
"Stop that! Breathe Temperance, breathe," she told herself as he walked past her into the living room following her slightly delayed invitation to come in.
She, however, wasn't quite ready and stood at the front door in her bathrobe. Feeling as if her sudden thoughts must be clearly apparent, she adjusted her robe collar closed as if to ward off a chill. This was getting out of hand as her ability to compartmentalize her sudden awareness of Booth's male attributes was deteriorating alarmingly. Just when she thought the romantic imprinting she had recognized after their second kiss had worn off, something like this would happen to cause it to re-emerge as if it had only being lurking under the surface of her mind.
This was ridiculous. Even though, he himself had told her that the right person would come along if she only allowed herself to be open to it, he couldn't have been talking about himself as the hopeful prospect...Could he? She was in control of her relationship with Booth, not her physical body. They were work partners and friends. She couldn't allow anything else, especially if Booth felt the way he seemed to about his "line".
She again felt like she was being held hostage by the primitive portion of her brain concerned only with perpetuation of the species. She had the fleeting thought that maybe her fixation with Booth would go away if they had sex. No, that wasn't logical. They were too compatible a match. If one kiss felt great and the next felt like heaven (if there was a heaven, of course), "sleeping" with Booth probably wasn't going to help but just add fuel to an already threatening inferno.
She also needed to stay mindful of the revelation about his father's drinking problem and its affect on his two sons. Booth probably didn't realize it but she was just as familiar with what this living situation can do to a child as he was. She had lived in a dozen homes as a teenager and almost every other foster child she lived with came from a home where alcohol or another addiction had caused them to be removed for their safety.
Despite her aversion to the over generalizations of psychology, she observed on her own several common behaviors in her foster siblings. They always seemed to doubt their own abilities and, even if they denied it, they acted as if their parent's need to overcome disappointment in life with an addiction was their fault. There was always that debilitating element of shame and responsibility that continued to rule their lives.
She also, had her own personal experiences of having been placed in a couple of homes where an addiction had been hidden from the foster care screening process. Her stays in these homes had been mercifully short, since her strong personality tolerated only so much before reporting to her case worker any abuse to herself or the other children in the home.
Booth seemed to be one of the lucky ones and had been able to have a mostly successful adult life but she could now recognize that his continued protection of his brother Jared was a lingering symptom of that time in his life. She was now more determined than ever to be more of a friend to him than someone who just wanted to share his bed.
"Sorry, I just need a few minutes. I'll be right back," she said finally in a mostly coherent manner as she gratefully escaped to her bedroom. She quickly pulled on her dress and put up her hair in a crocheted metallic thread netting called a snood attached with hair pins and her circlet. Her dress was an eight gored cotehardie, now commonly known as "princess" style, that had a wide scooped but not low neckline and long narrow sleeves. Her form fitting dress was made of a light weight rose pink brocade with a silky sheen that draped beautifully on her slim form. The long white leather belt she had received when she was knighted, becoming a Dame of the Realm, sat loosely at her hips and the large linked golden chain received with her belt was worn as a necklace. Soft white leather boots and a burgundy and fake fur edged cloak completed her outfit.
She came out to the living room and at the sound of her rustling skirts, Booth turned to see her. He was always caught off guard by how beautiful she was and even though he expected the transformation, it still took his breath away. All he wanted to do was stand there and look at her...well...for starters and felt a warm flush rise to his face and ...other places.
To cover his reaction, he focused his attention on a few snapshots he noticed on a bookcase shelf beside where he stood. He picked up one that showed a happily smiling young Brennan in what must have been a Halloween costume as there was a carved pumpkin beside her. She had on a wild frizzy wig and a flowery muumuu dress. A younger healthier Driscoll stood beside her in a droopy rumpled suit and loose half done tie.
"I haven't seen these pictures before. Is that you and Driscoll when you were young?" he asked as he handed it to Brennan who smiled as she saw which one she had been given.
"Yes, Todd's adoptive mother, Grace, gave them to me when I went back to Chicago for Greg Winters' memorial service," Brennan said. "That one is from Halloween the year of our reign. He talked me into wearing that ridiculous wig and dress we borrowed from Grace and he promised me that everyone would know who we were. I, of course, had no idea, but Todd said it was a joke on his nickname Fang. He was right. Everyone thought we were very humorous and kept calling me Felicia Dilly or something like that."
"That's Phyllis Diller the comedienne, Bones," Booth said, bursting out in a laugh he was unable to hold back. "Come on, Countess Amelia, we should be going. I'll explain on the way."
She replaced the photograph beside the others on the shelf, grabbed her change bag, and followed Booth as they left the apartment. On her way out, she also handed him a large picnic basket she referred to as their "feast gear" as it was customary to bring your own cutlery and dishes to SCA events.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More to come...soon! Happy New Year, Everyone!
Marte
