Page 45 of Honeythorn
“Yes. I worry.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” Milan said truthfully. He had thought so all along.
Lord Raphael flushed, a fascinating thing he always did when complimented.
“Well, I don’t know about that.”
“Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Milan said haughtily. Lord Raphael laughed, and Milan felt something warm inside him.
**********
“Right. That’s enough of this,” Milan said at breakfast, which he had taken to eating with his husband. “It’s been more than two weeks—you need to attend to your duties outside the manor.”
Lord Raphael winced, not denying it.
“If you do not object, I will go with you,” Milan declared, feeling a little deflated as Lord Raphael stared at his plate. “Please—believe me. These are my people now too. I would do nothing to harm them. Or you.”
Lord Raphael took a deep breath, looking at Milan. “I know. I know.” He gave Milan a small smile. Milan decided to take his words at face value. There were still doubts between them, but all they could do was forge through.
After more than half a month since Milan’s heat, he could stand to be away from Lord Raphael for at least twenty minutes, so they mounted different horses after breakfast and set out.
Lord Raphael kept an easy pace, pointing out different fields as they passed, still seeming determined to include Milan, despite the discomfort it appeared to cause him to speak so freely. Milan couldn’t help but admire Lord Raphael a little for going so against his instincts in order to take care of him.
“These are perpetual spinach. We’ll have to harvest them this week. Over there are potatoes. Oh, and see that tree there? I got caught on it once when one of the worker’s dogs chased me. I was sure I would be mauled to death.”
Milan laughed. “What did you do to the poor thing to incite such anger?”
“Nothing! I was completely innocent.”
Milan snorted.
“Here, we’re almost at the pea trees—wait until you try Ingrid’s pea soup. She puts cracked pepper in it—I can’t describe how delicious it is.”
Milan smiled at him from his horse. Lord Raphael looked so innocent at that moment, a delighted smile on his face. It sent a pang of sadness through Milan. Who had this man been before his first bonding? Milan had thought that the cruel man who oppressed him was the real Lord Raphael, and the ‘good man’ everybody saw was the farce—but perhaps it was the other way around.
They dismounted their horses and let them graze once they reached their destination. The pea trees that met them were abundant with green leaves and pods, the branches hanging down due to their weight.
“Fiona?” Lord Raphael called. After a moment, a stout, dark-haired Omega appeared as if from thin air.
“Lord Ledford! Look, what do you think?” she said with no preamble, as if she had expected them all long. She put her hands on her hips, peering at the trees. Lord Raphael joined her as Milan watched with interest.
“Yes. A day or two.”
“Just what I was thinking. Look how gorgeous they are,” she cooed. Milan stifled a laugh. “We’ll start picking after the dew, day after tomorrow. They’ll probably give a second harvest not long after that. And look at the pods! They’ll make excellent mulch.”
“They look perfect, Fiona.”
“They do. They’re beautiful!” Very suddenly, she turned to look at Milan. “Aren’t they?”
Milan startled at the sudden attention. Fiona’s eyes were pea-green, ironically, and quite piercing. “Oh, yes. Very. Are they always harvested so near winter?”
“No, no—these hardy girls can be harvested about…seventy days after planting. We tried a strain for early harvest but, bah, they weren’t as good.”
“How long have you been working with pea trees?”
“Oh, all my life! I’ve had pea every day since I was born,” Fiona said proudly.
Milan nodded along. “I can’t wait to try some.”
