She burst out laughing that he’d caught her up in her own false self-pity. They both knew she could have a new husband in less than a sennight if she wanted one. The poor woman really did want the same things he did. Peace and quiet. Her version meant not having a man around, squawking and wanting things from her. He wanted not to have to kill anyone anymore. Or have anyone trying to kill him. He felt like he and his mother could work out an accord of sorts.
“I’ll try not to get in your way,” she said bitterly.
“On the contrary, Mum,” he said eagerly. “It’s I who’ll try not to get in your way. You know more about farming than I do. You just tell me what needs to be done and let me be the…”
“The grunt? The brute muscle? Isn’t that what you’re running from being anymore?” she asked over the rim of her cup.
He did not flinch. “I’d say it’s quite a bit different muscling up piles of dirt and manure than torturing innocent souls who pray a bit differently than we do.”
Her mouth twisted. It was clear she didn’t want to know a thing about what he’d been doing since he first set out on his own, a lowly page looking for someone to teach him the arts of mercenary life. “Don’t be silly, Leo. We have workers for the dirt and manure. And you’ll learn the accounts in no time. I’m only worried you’ll be bored and unhappy here.” Her words were actually sincere. And tinged with as much kindness as he knew she could show. Before he could assure her he would be fine, she continued, the words rushing from her. “But as long as you’re meaning to be useful, you should pay your respects to Sir Walter with all haste.”
“Crowley told me he has guests now but, of course, I mean to go,” he said, feeling stalked.
As he expected, she pounced. “All the more reason to go as soon as you can. Tomorrow, even. That upstart Sir Tristan is right now picking over the crop. Go and make your claim, Leo.”
“Are you speaking of Sir Walter’s daughters as if they’re root vegetables?”
She blew out her breath. “Don’t be coy, Son. You know as well as I that there would be no better way to increase our—your land than to marry one of those girls. If you don’t want to stay married, pick Anne. She won’t last long. Poor thing,” his big-hearted mother added with a sniff.
He was too appalled to answer such a thing and she nodded, taking his silence for agreement. He supposed he would be paying his respects to Sir Walter and his crop of daughters the next day, then.
Welcome home, indeed.
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Evermore (Knight Everlasting Book 3) Page 24
