“Ye dinnae have to stand for very long, ye hear? I just need to see how yer legs manage. But I cannae do that until ye get up. Now, come on,” he encouraged, trying to coax the young foal to its feet.
He wiped the sweat from his brow as worry clung to him like mold to old cheese. If the foal failed to regain its breath, it would die.
Theo couldn’t let that happen, not when it was to be sold and pay for the year’s wheat seed.
“Ye’ve got to make wider circles,” Marcus advised as he rounded the corner. “The purpose is to mimic the breathing pattern like it’s runnin’. Bigger.”
“Like this?” Theo asked as he moved his hand along the foal’s chest cavity.
It was an immediate improvement. His eyes widened when the foal’s nostrils flared and it inhaled.
“That’s the way. Now, put this on it,” Marcus instructed, handing him the warm blanket he pulled off the mantelpiece. “That should get the wee thing goin’ for a bit longer.”
Theo moved his hand in wider circles and pressed down.
The foal was born weak, with its legs buckling like saplings standing against a brutal tempest. But there was a spark within the creature’s eyes, a fire that reminded Theo of something he once saw in his own reflection.
“Ye cannae leave now,” he said, jerking his head up to find Marcus leaning over the stall.
Still, he was certain he heard the stable door moan in protest as it opened.
“He’s in here somewhere.” He heard Stephen’s voice loud and clear.
The lack of urgency only irritated him. Stephen understood better than anyone that the stables were his sanctuary and retreat.
“We’re back here, Stephen,” Marcus called.
Theo rolled his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to be the Laird for once. It was a never-ending job; he wondered why anyone would covet it.
“There, ye see? What did I tell ye?” he heard Stephen mutter.
Theo noticed the foal shift its legs. He didn’t bother to look up. Stephen was given free rein to roam about the grounds, being the man-at-arms and all.
“I said he’d be here, did I nae?”
“Me Laird?”
Theo froze. It wasn’t Stephen’s voice that tickled his ears, but Lavina’s.
“May I have a moment of yer time?” she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
He glanced at Marcus, finding himself torn between wanting to speak to Lavina and caring for the foal. It seemed as if his future rested in both hands.
“I’m in the middle of something here,” he answered, waving for Marcus to hand him another heated blanket. “So, if ye dinnae mind…”
“Well, I do mind.” Lavina stepped into view. “Ye see…”
Theo dared to look up at her. It was in that moment of weakness that their eyes met. His chest tightened as the foal sprang to its feet as if nothing were wrong.
Lavina’s eyes widened as he sprang to the back of the stall.
“Would ye look at that,” Marcus cooed as the foal stumbled around a bit, trying to get its bearings.
“Oh my,” Lavina whispered as Theo stepped back.
The screech of a cat shattered the moment and cut through the air like a banshee’s cry.
“Saints above?—”
