“I wanted to take one last look around the cottage before the new person moves in, and then I was coming right back, I swear.” Felix took a step forward and peeled off his coat, revealing the formal dress underneath. “See? I’m ready. I just had to check the squeaky bed was gone.”
For some reason, that had Leo’s expression softening. “I suppose,” he said, his tone fond. “Now come on, or else we really will be late.”
He extended a hand and Felix took it, and they walked back up the track to the castle, the sound of soft laughter floating back on the breeze.
Ollie stared wide-eyed. “They’re so in love,” he said with a wistful sigh. He looked at Mother and tilted his head. “Have you ever been in love, Mr. Jones?”
“No, lad.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never had the time,” Mother said, “what with running the stables.”
It was mostly the truth. Mother wasn’t a conventionally handsome man, not like the king with his strong jawline and piercing eyes, or Felix with his wavy hair and soft mouth, but he was tall and sinewy, with the muscles one would expect to gain from years of handling thousand-pound horses, and he had soft brown eyes, chestnut hair, and a slightly crooked smile that he had been told was charming more than once. He had no doubt that if hedidwant to attract someone into his bed, he’d have no trouble.
But Mother worked long hours as the stablemaster, overseeing the staff as well as providing hands-on care for the horses. By the end of the day, he was more interested in a warm meal and sleeping in his bed than bringing anyone into it.
Besides, nobody had ever…interested him that way. He could look at a person and know that they were pleasing to the eye, but he’d never had that driving desire to take it further, to feel someone else’s hands on his skin, or their lips against his. And although he did think it would be nice to have someone to come home to, he wasn’t driven by the need for physical affection.
“Mr. Jones?”
Mother was dragged out of his thoughts by Ollie, who was looking at him expectantly. “Shall I start on the floors?”
“Yes, lad. Go and fetch some hot water and we’ll finish this. And after, shall you and I take Blackbird and Shadow out for a ride? They’re well due.”
Ollie’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Really. You can take Blackbird.” Ollie beamed, his eyes bright with excitement, and Mother smiled to himself. He knew that Ollie considered riding the king’s horse to be a privilege of the highest order. “But only once the floors are done, mind, so you’d best get a move on.”
Ollie nodded and scrambled to grab the water buckets, and Mother chuckled as he watched him run up the worn path that led to the laundry room, legs flying out behind him and buckets clanking.
Once Ollie returned he set to scrubbing with vigour, and it didn’t take them long to finish up. The stone floors threw off a dull gleam when they were done, ready for the new furniture that was arriving tomorrow. Mother made a mental note to make sure that the cupboards were stocked with at least a few basics. He was sure the new groom would appreciate it.
Ollie tipped the grey water away down the drainage trough that ran behind the yard, and Mother clapped him on the back. “Well done, lad. Now, let’s take those horses out, shall we?”
* * *
Mother loved nothing better than being on horseback. It gave a body a feeling of freedom that he’d never found anywhere else. The horses hadn’t been properly ridden in days, what with the royal couple hosting guests, so Mother took the opportunity to give Shadow, Felix’s mount, his head, with Ollie by his side on Blackbird. The horses made the most of the opportunity, their hooves eating up the miles as they raced along. The wind whipped through Mother’s hair as he spurred his mount forward, and Ollie’s cheeks were flushed, the boy laughing aloud as he rode. Even though Ollie was still in his teens, Mother could already tell he’d make a fine head groom someday. He had a solid work ethic, but more importantly, he had a passion for horses that Mother recognized as matching his own.
They rode in the afternoon sun, enjoying the ride and letting the horses set the pace until Mother’s shirt was damp with sweat and his thighs ached. It was only when Shadow slowed, tossing his mane and blowing great hot breaths as they approached the woods that surrounded the castle, that Mother turned to head home. The sun was creeping lower in the sky, and the horses needed to be fed and tended to before it got dark.
It had taken some time for Felix to concede that he wouldn’t be able to keep up his duties as royal groom, not while he was spending all his time with Leo at the castle learning the ins and outs of royal protocol. Eventually, though, he’d handed over the care of his horses to Mother, who had been happy to step into the role until a new groom was found.
Mother nudged Shadow along and Ollie did the same with Blackbird, and they rode back at a slow, steady pace. They reached the stables at the tail end of the afternoon, the approach of evening marked by soft pinks and oranges streaking the sky. Ollie insisted on grooming Blackbird since he was the one who’d ridden her, and it didn’t take long before the horses were fed and settled in their stalls for the night. Mother gave an approving nod. “Good work. Now off you go and get your dinner.”
“Are you coming to the kitchens?” Ollie asked. “They’ll have leftovers from the fancy lunch.”
Mother considered it but shook his head at the thought of the bustling, crowded tables and all those people. “Not tonight.” He waved Ollie away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ollie didn’t need to be told twice, and once he’d gone Mother took the time to walk through the main stables, checking on the rest of the horses and making sure his other grooms had done their job. They had, of course. Mother ran a tight ship, and his staff knew better than to cut corners. He locked up the gates to the stable yard and started the walk back to his own cottage. Dusk had passed and it had turned into a still, clear evening. He could hear the faintest sounds of the ocean and on a whim, he turned and walked the other way, down the road that led through the town and towards the docks.
Mother had always loved the sea. Perhaps it had to do with the fact his father had been a fisherman. The smell of the ocean and the fresh bite of salt air on his cheeks made him feel alive, and he often wandered down to the docks of an evening.
He made his way down narrow, cobbled streets that smelled faintly of fish and past the market stalls. They were closed now, but early in the morning the street would be awash once again with fishwives, all displaying baskets of steely-eyed, glistening cod and pike, every one of them bellowing out assurances thattheirfish was the freshest and all claiming that they alone had the catch of the day.
Mother turned down one side street and then along another, rounding a corner and making his way to his favourite fish café, one that opened onto the street and did a decent dinner for a good price. Lamplight gleamed on the cobbles, and he settled himself at one of the outdoor tables. A round-faced lass bustled up to him with a nod and a smile. “Evening, Mr. Jones. The usual?”
“Please, Rosie. And a pint of cider.”
