carried. It was only a second stinging slap from Mary that stopped him.
She scowled down at him severely. “And don’t you go eating that basket clean of food. That’s meant for Lady Imogen’s and Sir Robert’s lunch.” The mere mention of Robert’s name miraculously produced the result that any number of cuffs round the ear would never do.
“Now that my noble guide has been given all of his vital last-minute instructions, may we be on our way? Please?” Imogen couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
Mary hesitated a moment. It was a dangerous world beyond the Keep’s walls, and Imogen was more vulnerable than most. She might have longed for the day when Imogen started to live again, but it now seemed to have arrived all too soon.
“Aye, be gone with you, then,” she said gruffly. She thrust Lucas’s hand through Imogen’s crooked arm and gave them a shove out the door.
Imogen had to stoop to try and match herself to Lucas’s slight stature and even then she stumbled. With a shake of her head she stopped after a few yards. She gently put Lucas’s hand down and stepped a half pace behind him and firmly placed her hand on his shoulder.
As Mary watched the mismatched pair disappear down the stairs without any further problems, she reached her hand into her apron pocket and grabbed for a handkerchief. She let out a loud sniff before allowing herself a moment of noisy grief. She then shoved the handkerchief back into the pocket from whence it came and resolutely straightened her spine. Perhaps if she kept telling herself that this was a good thing, then maybe it would be easier to get through.
It didn’t seem to work.
Her brows dropped a little as she thought of consoling herself by spending her time blaming Robert for this wonderful misfortune. After all, till he came here, there had been no talk of walks. It helped only for a moment.
Pity, as she had kind of liked the idea of having someone to curse. Instead she marched back into Imogen’s bedroom and over to the fireplace. She sat down heavily and began stoking the flames with a will. If she was going to wait and worry for hours, she thought with a self-righteous sniff, then there was no way in hell she was going to freeze while doing it.
Lucas walked Imogen slowly down the last of the stairs and guided her toward the main door. The burden of his new responsibility showed in the seriousness of his expression.
The Keep seemed oddly still after the past weeks of noisy activity.
With Robert gone to the tower for at least the rest of the day, the servants had taken a much-needed chance to rest. After years of near inertia, to be suddenly working for a human whirlwind, even one as respected as Robert had become with everyone in the Keep, was something of a shock. The chance to breathe normally again was too good to ignore.
Imogen smiled broadly, feeling better than she had in weeks—no, in years, she realized with wonder. A bubble of happiness rose inside her and she was gripped by a desire to run, to skip, to dance; just to see if she still could after all this time.
“Can we go a little faster?” she whispered to Lucas, wheedlingly.
“Only if you want us to fall on our faces, m’lady,” he whispered back.
She thought about it for a moment. “We mightn’t, you know.”
“Yes, but if we do, Sir Robert will have me torn into little bits.”
“Coward,” she said severely, but smiled. It seemed impossible to stop smiling on such a day.
She could feel his head nodding vigorously. “You bet I am. I intend to live to see my eighth year.”
Imogen was just about to add something when Lucas came to an abrupt halt. Imogen collided with his small body, causing him to stumble a bit.
“Why did you do that?” she exploded in shock. “If you don’t say something when you plan to stop, then falling on our faces becomes an inevitability.”
“Sor-sorry, my lady,” he stammered.
“It was my fault,” came
She scowled down at him severely. “And don’t you go eating that basket clean of food. That’s meant for Lady Imogen’s and Sir Robert’s lunch.” The mere mention of Robert’s name miraculously produced the result that any number of cuffs round the ear would never do.
“Now that my noble guide has been given all of his vital last-minute instructions, may we be on our way? Please?” Imogen couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
Mary hesitated a moment. It was a dangerous world beyond the Keep’s walls, and Imogen was more vulnerable than most. She might have longed for the day when Imogen started to live again, but it now seemed to have arrived all too soon.
“Aye, be gone with you, then,” she said gruffly. She thrust Lucas’s hand through Imogen’s crooked arm and gave them a shove out the door.
Imogen had to stoop to try and match herself to Lucas’s slight stature and even then she stumbled. With a shake of her head she stopped after a few yards. She gently put Lucas’s hand down and stepped a half pace behind him and firmly placed her hand on his shoulder.
As Mary watched the mismatched pair disappear down the stairs without any further problems, she reached her hand into her apron pocket and grabbed for a handkerchief. She let out a loud sniff before allowing herself a moment of noisy grief. She then shoved the handkerchief back into the pocket from whence it came and resolutely straightened her spine. Perhaps if she kept telling herself that this was a good thing, then maybe it would be easier to get through.
It didn’t seem to work.
Her brows dropped a little as she thought of consoling herself by spending her time blaming Robert for this wonderful misfortune. After all, till he came here, there had been no talk of walks. It helped only for a moment.
Pity, as she had kind of liked the idea of having someone to curse. Instead she marched back into Imogen’s bedroom and over to the fireplace. She sat down heavily and began stoking the flames with a will. If she was going to wait and worry for hours, she thought with a self-righteous sniff, then there was no way in hell she was going to freeze while doing it.
Lucas walked Imogen slowly down the last of the stairs and guided her toward the main door. The burden of his new responsibility showed in the seriousness of his expression.
The Keep seemed oddly still after the past weeks of noisy activity.
With Robert gone to the tower for at least the rest of the day, the servants had taken a much-needed chance to rest. After years of near inertia, to be suddenly working for a human whirlwind, even one as respected as Robert had become with everyone in the Keep, was something of a shock. The chance to breathe normally again was too good to ignore.
Imogen smiled broadly, feeling better than she had in weeks—no, in years, she realized with wonder. A bubble of happiness rose inside her and she was gripped by a desire to run, to skip, to dance; just to see if she still could after all this time.
“Can we go a little faster?” she whispered to Lucas, wheedlingly.
“Only if you want us to fall on our faces, m’lady,” he whispered back.
She thought about it for a moment. “We mightn’t, you know.”
“Yes, but if we do, Sir Robert will have me torn into little bits.”
“Coward,” she said severely, but smiled. It seemed impossible to stop smiling on such a day.
She could feel his head nodding vigorously. “You bet I am. I intend to live to see my eighth year.”
Imogen was just about to add something when Lucas came to an abrupt halt. Imogen collided with his small body, causing him to stumble a bit.
“Why did you do that?” she exploded in shock. “If you don’t say something when you plan to stop, then falling on our faces becomes an inevitability.”
“Sor-sorry, my lady,” he stammered.
“It was my fault,” came
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