Page 43 of Forcing Fate

“Do you think it would be unwise for me to go?” I asked, shouldering the basket.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a half-hearted shrug. “I think some men don’t know how to act in a lady’s presence, is all.”

I smiled and nodded at him. It wouldn’t be a change of pace, anyway. “That’s fine. I had enough to eat this morning. I have a package for General Rafe, though. Is there some way I might get it to him?”

The corners of his lips dipped into a frown at the mention of the General. “The package you left in my office? I can have one of my boys run it to his quarters.”

“Ah, alright then. Thank you,” I said, dismayed, as I wanted to talk with General Rafe about his overpayment for the mending.

“I could look for someone to escort you if you prefer to take it to him yourself, but he doesn’t hang about during meals.”

“Oh, I know.” I smiled to myself. He was probably in the woods somewhere checking his traps or hunting.

“I wouldn’t feel right sending you to his quarters, if you understand, miss,” he added.

I tilted my head at his words. Why wouldn’t he feel right about that? I was just sending off a package. If a stableboy accompanied me, what harm would there be? Perhaps it had something to do with the rumors going about.

“I understand.” I frowned as we left the stall. “If it’s alright, I’d like to send a note with it as well.”

“Fine by me,” he said, shutting the stall door and locking it.

In his office, I wrote a quick note and tucked it inside. A young boy with a head full of raven hair and eyes dancing with mischief took the parcel and ran off.

“Pike is a good lad. He’ll see it there safely.”

I smiled and settled down to help organize some paperwork, noting that Master Aron worked through his midday meal as well.

“Do you normally take a midday meal?” I asked, not wanting to impose.

A slight blush colored his cheeks. “I—ah. I do,” he stammered. “But it wouldn’t be right for me to leave you here and not take you.”

He didn’t act as though he was a Master. He acted like a young man—which, in all honesty, he was. But he was a Master and deserved that confidence.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine here. I’ll stay till you return.” I waved at his thin frame before focusing on the papers. “Go, eat.”

“I really shouldn’t.” He shuffled about the parchments littering his desk.

“Would you fetch me something, then? I’m actually feeling rather faint now,” I teased.

With a lopsided grin, he relented. “Alright then, I’ll go fetch us both something. I’ll be back before you know it.” He pushed out the door at a quick pace.

Master Aron was quite a pleasant fellow. He was funny and kind. I judged him to be in his late twentieth-winter. He didn’t seem any older than that. He lacked the confidence that came with age, holding onto his boyish charm.

I shook my head, mentally slapping myself. Boyish charm? Since when were boys charming?

I sorted through breeding papers with a renewed passion. Clearly, I had too much time to think if I was contemplating the charm of boys.

Master Aron returned with a chunk of crusty bread, some cheese, and radish. After I finished my meal, we worked with a mare in a circular pen. Master Aron stood in the middle, driving the horse with a long stick and rope. I leaned against the fence, watching as he moved and guided her without muttering a word. The stableboy, Pike, ran up to me, red-faced and panting as he tugged at my dress.

“Miss, the big General told me to give you these.” Between his heavy breaths, he held out his hand, showing two gold coins.

I bit my tongue, pushing down a wave of anger. “Did he say why?” I asked, unwilling to take them.

Pike shook his head hard. Those big brown eyes, once filled with mischief, now only held suspicion and a bit of wariness. “He just said, ‘You get these to her, and don’t be snatchin’ ‘em.’” Pike lowered his tone to his best rumbly voice, then kicked at the dirt. “Don’t mind me sayin’ miss, but he didn’ like your words on the paper much either. He was all in a tizzy, throwin’ stuffs.”

I smirked at that thought and knelt to get on his level. “How about you take those coins then, huh? I don’t need them, and I bet they could buy a lot of things a little boy like you could want.”

At my words, he grabbed my hand and shoved the coins into my palm. “No, ma’am, he’ll think I’m a snatcher. And I ain’t! You know what he says they do with snatchers? Cut off their hands!” He backed away from me as if I were some wild animal. “I want my hands!”.

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