The Meeting of Lares and Mabel #3
Irene’s astonishment took on a hint of interest. She returned her focus to the tall, dark-haired man emerging from the field of cabbages with her daughter in his arms, and she could see all manner of possibilities.
Not that she wasn’t selective about whom her daughter should marry, but Mabel had been difficult when it came to finding her a husband.
At her age, she should be betrothed at the very least, but she wasn’t.
Any man that came to call upon her, either by his own initiative or by invitation, had been found wanting in Mabel’s eyes.
She was bright and stubborn, and had a very strong idea about the man she wished to marry.
Irene, however, wasn’t so selective. If she could garner a titled lord for her daughter—an earl, no less—then she would do it. She would do what it took.
Even if the earl was Scots.
“Tell me about him,” she said to the priest just as Lares and her daughter came out of the field. “Why was he here at the abbey? Does he mean to be a priest?”
The priest shook his head. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “As I said, his father him sent here after the lad was caught trying to marry a lady without permission, but also…”
He trailed off, causing Irene to look at him curiously. “Also what?”
The priest was hesitant as he lowered his voice.
“He was sent here to save his soul,” he muttered.
“He was caught summoning demons, and his father sent him here to purge the demons from him. Rumors said that he was becoming Lucifer himself. But since his arrival two years ago, he’s slept little, read the Bible for hours every day, and worked the fields rigorously to purge the devil from him. God shall prevail in the end.”
Irene’s expression had a hint of horror to it as she listened. “Nonsense,” she finally scoffed. “There are no demons in that man.”
“We have worked hard to ensure that there are none, my lady.”
“He looks perfectly normal to me.”
“I hope so, my lady.”
Irene wasn’t sure what more to say to that. Her daughter and the man in question, now an earl, were coming closer, and as they drew near, Irene went out to meet them.
“What happened?” she said to her daughter. “Did you fall? You foolish child, I told you to be careful. I knew you would hurt yourself.”
Mabel had little patience with her mother. “I slipped in the mud and twisted my ankle a little,” she said. “But I assure you, I’m perfectly well.”
“If you are well, then let me see you stand.”
“I’m not that well.”
Irene growled in frustration. “First your brother, now you,” she said dramatically. “We are here to bring your brother home because he broke his leg, and now you are injured as well. Your father will be quite angry!”
Annoyed, Mabel squirmed with the intention of climbing out of Lares’ arms, so he lowered her to the ground carefully. She stood on both feet, but the truth was that she was mostly balancing on her left foot.
“See?” she said. “I can stand. I will be completely well by the time we return home, so you needn’t worry about Papa. Right now, we should be more worried about George. Have you asked to see him?”
Irene hadn’t. She’d been so concerned with her headstrong daughter that the very reason they were here had completely slipped her mind.
But she wasn’t going to admit that.
“Of course I have,” she said, turning to the priest. “Why have you not taken me to my son yet? I demand that you take me to George immediately.”
The priest had no idea what she meant, and he looked at her with surprise first and then fear. “My lady?” he stammered. “Your… your son?”
Irene threw an imperious finger toward the abbey. “I told you,” she said, though she knew full well that she hadn’t. “We’ve come for the young man who has broken his leg. I am Lady Irene de Waverton, and my son is inside the abbey. Take me to him immediately.”
The priest darted inside with Irene following. Mabel was left standing there, or rather balancing there, as everyone seemed to be moving into the abbey. As her father’s soldiers wandered back over to the escort, she looked at Lares.
“I do believe they have left us alone,” she said.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “It would seem so, m’lady.”
“Would you be so kind as to help me inside?” she said. “I hate to ask, but I fear that I lied to my mother when I told her that I was well. My ankle hurts a great deal.”
Lares had suspected as much. “We should tend tae yer ankle before it grows worse,” he said. “If ye’ll allow, I can help.”
Mabel smiled at his kindness. “You’ve helped quite a lot already,” she said. “But mayhap you can help me inside. I should like to see my brother.”
Without a word, he bent over and picked her up again, carrying her into the dark, cool innards of Camerton.
It smelled of cold earth and dust, and of the incense the priests were so fond of that came from mysterious places across the sea.
While Lares was fairly certain he could become quite used to his arms around Mabel, she was thinking that she could become quite used to being carried around.
By him. As he followed the voices into the dormitory where George was exclaiming his delight at seeing his mother, Mabel found her gaze lingering on Lares, only to flush and turn away when he caught her staring at him.
It was a game they played more than once. She would look, he would catch her, and before they entered the dormitory, he was looking and she caught him. Lares had gone from a simple rescue mission to a game of interest fairly quickly.
And so had Mabel.
But no more interested than Lady Irene. She didn’t even care when Lares entered the dormitory carrying her daughter for a second time.
Nay, she didn’t mind at all because before the day was through, she’d come to know Lares dun Tarh and the tale of his remote, but evidently rich, earldom.
By the next morning—for they did remain at the abbey overnight—she was to return home with two very important things: her son for one and a betrothal for the other.
Lares dun Tarh had surrendered without a fight.
When their first son, Aurelius, was born a year later, and a second son, Darien, not quite two years after that, it was the beginning of the legend of Lucifer’s Highland Legion.