Page 35 of Honeythorn
“Lord Ledford! My goodness—your clothes!” Laura exclaimed when she saw him. Milan looked down. Indeed, his clothes were already covered in mud.
“Never mind that. Tell me how to help.”
Laura hesitated for a moment, but the sound of squealing interrupted any doubts she might have voiced. “Let’s form a circle around them as best we can. It’ll be better to corral them than to fight these stubborn things.”
Easier said than done. Milan was amazed at the speed of the creatures, considering their size, but they were quick and smart. It took the idea of enticing them with food to get them to cooperate, and even then, it took more than an hour to get them all back where they belonged.
Milan leaned against the wooden fence of the pens, feeling like his legs would wobble out from under him. “My goodness. Is that what exercise is?” he panted.
“That wasn’t exercise. That was torture,” one of the men replied.
Milan laughed breathlessly. “Torture by porcine. How delightful.”
“I need a stiff drink,” the other man said.
Laura snorted. “I need three.”
“And I need a nap. This mud will do,” Milan said, only half joking.
“The bar it is. And you’re coming with us, My Lord.”
“Oh, I—”
“Nonsense. We deserve it.”
Despite being on the verge of collapse and utterly filthy from the chase, Milan could not find a way to get out of the invitation without causing offence.
They rode into town, where, as Milan suspected, they became quite the spectacle. Milan couldn’t help but join in the exaggerated telling of the wayward pigs when they arrived at the bar and everybody gaped at their mud-covered state. Despite how tired he was, Milan had to admit it was great fun to be treated so casually. He suspected he had made great strides in being seen more like one of them than an untouchable lord.
It was almost dusk when he managed to escape. He had drunk little, knowing his body couldn’t take it. Even so, it took an embarrassing three times to get on top of Saturnus and only succeeded because the stable hand helped him.
Night was falling quickly, and Milan tried to keep up a galloping pace, but his body couldn’t take the strain. A few minutes in even a trot was too much, and he made Saturnus walk slowly, slumping over slightly and hoping nobody would cross his path and see.
Halfway there he had the mare stop so he could rest for a moment. His head was swimming oddly, his breath coming in short, even though he was barely exerting himself. He knew he should have left the bar earlier and was now paying the price.
Damn the bond. Damn his physiology.
Saturnus started shifting in place as if concerned about the long pause, and Milan urged her forwards. It would not do to fall asleep there and freeze to death like a fool.
Milan was unsure about how he arrived at the manor but was relieved to see he had somehow made it, when Mary rushed to greet him from the stables. Milan practically fell from the mare, causing Mary to yelp.
“I’m all right,” Milan said. “Although, I’m afraid I’m a tad too exhausted to rub her down.”
“Of course. My Lord, should I call someone? Do you need—”
“No, no. I’m quite all right. Thank you, Mary.”
Milan ignored the front door, instead entering through the mudroom by the kitchen, startling one of the staff, who stammered a greeting before rushing off. Milan stood there, looking down at his clothes and boots covered in dry mud. His brain wasn’t working. Was he supposed to take them off there?
“Lord Milan!”
Milan looked up to see Melissa and Ingrid hurrying towards him.
“Oh, hello. I think—a bath?” He stepped further into the manor, managing to make his way out of the servant quarters whilst the two women hovered around him, asking him questions he couldn’t decipher.
He blinked in confusion when something stepped in front of him. He looked up to see the glowering face of his dear husband.
“Oh. Hello.”
