The Meeting of Lares and Mabel #2
She was smiling openly at him. “I do not think that is a bad thing,” she said. “More people should say what they feel. The world might be better for it.”
He chuckled. “Ye think so, do ye?” he said. “I think if the Scots said what they thought, we’d have constant wars, all across Scotland.”
She giggled again. “I suppose you are right,” she said. “Isn’t it men saying what they feel that starts wars in the first place?”
“That is my belief.”
Distant shouting caught their attention, and they both turned to see that the de Waverton carriage had made its way to the front of the abbey. Irene had climbed out and was shouting at her daughter, waving an arm.
Mabel waved back.
“That is my mother,” she said, not entirely happily. “She is waiting for me.”
Lares could see that. “Have ye come on business?”
She shook her head, trying to put weight on the ankle again but faltering. He grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t fall, bracing his other arm around her waist to keep her upright as she tried to walk.
“Thank you,” she said in reference to his help. “To answer your question, we are not here on business. We are here to collect my brother, George. Do you know him?”
Lares held her as she took another step and ended up hopping because she couldn’t put any weight on her leg. “George?” he said curiously. “Is he a priest?”
“Nay,” she said, coming to a halt because she couldn’t walk any further. “He broke his leg and the priests have tended him. We’ve come to collect him.”
That brought recognition. “Ah,” he said. “That George. The lad in the dormitory. Aye, I’ve spoken tae him, but he calls himself Georgie. He’s quite lively, which is something that vexes the priests, I think. But I’ve enjoyed him.”
Mabel appreciated the kind words about her brother. “He’s a darling man,” she said, but her smile soon faded. “I hate to trouble you, but could you tell my mother I need help? She’ll send a couple of soldiers to assist me.”
Lares’ response was to bend over and swiftly pick her up.
Abruptly aloft in the man’s arms, Mabel grasped his neck for support, realizing very quickly that their faces were quite close together.
Now she could see him up close, and he was a prize specimen.
She had been startled by his action at first, but now that she was in his arms, something else was happening.
A sweet little flutter, deep in her belly.
She rather liked it.
“No need for the soldiers, m’lady,” he said as he continued across the field. “’Tis my pleasure tae help Georgie’s sister, though I will admit I’m sorry ye’ve come tae take him home. He was a bright spot in an otherwise lonely life.”
“I’m sorry we must, but he should go home.”
“Of course he should,” Lares said. “I simply meant I’ll miss speaking tae him. But I suppose it does not matter, because I’m going home as well.”
“Are you?” Mabel said, trying to ignore the giddy trembling in her belly. “When do you leave?”
“Soon,” Lares said. “The priests know they must release me now that my da has died. I’ve been called home.”
“Is that so?” Mabel said with some concern. “I’m sorry that it will be a sad homecoming for you.”
They were nearing the edge of the field, and Lares could see Mabel’s mother waving frantically to a few soldiers, pointing to her daughter. They started heading in their direction.
“Not a sad homecoming,” he said quietly, eyeing the soldiers who were still some distance away, but by nature he had an aversion to English soldiers.
“Truthfully, I’m glad tae be rid of this place.
I’m glad tae have the opportunity tae live a normal life again and not exist at this wretched purgatory. ”
“Has it been so awful?”
He looked to the abbey and its dark, tall walls with moss growing on the north side of the building. “Awful enough,” he said. “But, then again, I will return tae my family’s home, which isna much better.”
“Where is it?”
“Far tae the north, in the Highlands,” he said. “A place called Castle Hydra.”
She was curious. “That’s quite a name,” she said. “Why is it called that?”
He shrugged. “No one really knows,” he said.
“It has always been called that. The home we live in has been there for hundreds of years, but before that, there was a wooden fort built by the tribes who used tae inhabit the land. It sits on the edge of an inlet that leads out tae sea, and my father thinks they called it the Hydra because there really was a sea serpent in the inlet in days long past. He thinks the original building on the site used tae be a temple tae the serpent. But who truly knows how things get their name? Men are strange creatures sometimes.”
Mabel nodded. “True enough,” she said. “Then your home has been in existence for many years?”
He nodded, looking at her with those dark, twinkling eyes.
“My ancestors are Romans,” he said. “Ye’ve heard tale that the Romans once conquered the English?
They tried tae come tae Scotland, but we ran them off or forced them tae live among us.
Those are my ancestors. They built the temple tae the serpent.
And they settled the land and married intae the tribes. ”
She smiled faintly. “I had a tutor who spoke of the Romans and the Greeks,” she said. “But I do not remember much about them.”
He was forced to turn away from her so that he could watch where he was going now that they were near the end of the field.
“’Tis nothing for a finely bred lass tae know,” he said.
“The Romans were conquerors. They came tae the shores of England and Scotland, back in the old days, and they forced men tae serve their empire.”
“Sounds fearsome.”
He gave her a half-grin. “We are.”
“Is that where you get your name? I’ve never heard it before.”
He nodded. “All men in my family are given Roman or Aragon names,” he said. “The Romans we descend from were men from Aragon. Therefore, our son will have a name of my choosing. Possibly after a Roman king or an Aragon prince.”
Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “Our son?” she said. “Are we having a son together, then?”
All he did was cast her a sidelong glance, grinning, and Mabel’s heart nearly beat right out of her chest. Something about that expression suggested he meant what he’d said, and, strangely, she believed him.
She wasn’t sure why, but she did. Few were actually men of their word, but Mabel suspected Lares was one of them.
Out in the middle of a lightly traveled area of Cumbria, working in a field of cabbages, was a man who spoke the truth.
He meant every word.
Pondering that very thing, Mabel was prevented from answering because the soldiers were upon them at this point. Her father’s heavily armed men had come to collect her, and she batted them away.
“Leave me alone,” she scolded them. “He’s perfectly capable of helping me.”
The soldiers weren’t happy about it. Irene wasn’t happy about it.
But Mabel tightened her arms around Lares’ neck and grinned at him as a gaggle of soldiers stood by, unsure what to do.
By this time, there were a pair of priests who had come forth to greet the visitors, and they were all watching with various expressions of concern and outrage as Lares carried Mabel out of the field and headed toward her mother.
Lares wasn’t unaware of the battery of condescending stares, either.
He knew he was going to get an earful.
“I fear our acquaintance is coming tae a close, m’lady,” he said, his gaze on the mother in particular. “’Twas an honor tae meet ye, and I’ll miss George when he leaves. Should I wish tae call upon ye, where do ye live?”
Mabel looked at him. She found that she was quite sorry they would soon be parted. “Slow your walk,” she said quietly. When he looked at her curiously, she smiled. “The faster you walk, the faster you must put me down.”
A smile spread across his lips, and he immediately slowed. “That was a bold suggestion, m’lady.”
“Then walk quickly if you do not agree.”
His dark eyes studied her. “I slowed down, dinna I?”
Mabel chuckled. “You did,” she said. “But my mother will be furious that I’ve spoken to a farmer. Look at her—she is already having fits.”
“Would she have fits if ye spoke with an earl?”
Mabel wasn’t sure what he meant. “Of course not,” she said. “But that is different. A man of higher standing and she’d probably throw me into his arms herself.”
The smile on his lips grew. “I said I wasna a priest,” he said. “Nor am I a farmer, but that is my task here at Camerton. I was sent here by my da because… Well, it does not matter why. But know that I’m not a priest nor a farmer. I was born my father’s heir.”
“What does that mean?”
He told her.
*
“He’s a what?”
Irene was close to being irate as she watched the tall, handsome man in peasant clothing carry her daughter toward the abbey entry. She’d demanded to know who he was, but a few words from the priest had her turning to the man in shock.
“Say that again,” she demanded. “He’s the what?”
“He is the Earl of Torridon.” The priest, a thin man with bad teeth, was looking at her rather fearfully. “That young man who has been working our fields.”
Irene’s mouth popped open, briefly, in astonishment. “The Earl of Torridon is working your fields?”
The priest seemed nervous as he spoke. “Lares dun Tarh has only just become the Earl of Torridon,” he clarified. “We received word two days ago that his father has passed away, and Lares was his heir. He is now the earl and, as such, is preparing to return home.”