Page 17 of The Twelve Days of Love

She had flung her arms about him and wept until his waistcoat was wet from her tears.

“Nothing is too good for my wife,” he said.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Caroline’s present was a jeweled comb, also of amber. She had awakened very early, restless, and had not been able to get comfortable and fall back asleep. Knowing how it soothed her when he brushed her hair, he did so for a long time and then slipped the comb into the thick tresses.

“This is almost too beautiful to wear,” she told him as she looked at her newest gift.

“You are the beautiful one,” he replied. “And nothing is ever too good for my countess.”

Luke took Caroline’s hands in his. “I need to ride out and visit with our tenants today. I have not done so in several weeks and you know I like to see what is happening in their lives. Since I have so many to visit, I would like to leave now. Would you mind if I am not at breakfast with you and the children? I can grab some bread and cheese from the kitchen and eat in the saddle.”

“Go and tell everyone hello from me,” she said, kissing him soundly. “I will stay here and look beautiful, wearing my new comb.”

The household was just starting to stir as he made his way downstairs, tearing off half a loaf of bread from yesterday since no fresh loaves had come from the ovens yet. He wrapped his handkerchief about it as he strode toward the stables. He didn’t see a groom out and about. Knowing how early it was, he decided to saddle his horse himself.

Entering the stables, he ran smack into someone and stepped back, ready to apologize.

But the boy before him wasn’t anyone in his employ. He was on the small side and had a piece of hay sticking out of his hair, as if he’d slept upon a pile of it. From the panicked look, Luke surmised the lad had slept in the stables because he had nowhere else to go.

Then his gut told him he did know who this was.

“Hello, Boy.”

A startled expression flitted across the boy’s face. “You know me?”

Luke nodded. “I know of you. From Lucy. Would you like to talk?”

A wary look filled Boy’s eyes and, suddenly, he darted past Luke, spinning him about. He quickly regained his balance and gave chase, his longer strides able to match and then catch the boy’s. He reached and grabbed Boy’s arm, bringing them both to a halt.

Fear now filled the child’s eyes.

“I am not going to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I only wish to talk to you. For Lucy’s sake. Can we do so?”

Grudgingly, Boy nodded. With reluctance, Luke released his grasp, ready to run and pounce again if the lad took off.

He didn’t.

“Can we walk?” Boy asked. “I’d rather talk as we walked. I... don’t want to go inside.”

The day was cold but Luke didn’t want to frighten off Boy. “Come along,” he said, figuring that Boy, who had grime covering his face and hands, didn’t want Lucy to see him this way.

He led them past the stables, walking a good quarter-mile without speaking, wanting Boy to get comfortable being in his company. They reached the meadow and Luke went to the fence, climbing atop it and settling in, waiting for his visitor to join him.

Boy did so, looking as if he would bolt at any minute.

“Did you come to see Lucy?” he asked.

“No. Yes. I mean... I wanted to see her. But not talk to her. I thought I did but I can’t.”

“Lucy wants to talk to you. She misses you, Boy. Very much. Why would you come all this way and not talk to her in person?”

Boy shrugged. “I just want to make sure she is fine. Before I go away.”

Luke stilled, not reacting, though he wanted to sharply inhale. “Lucy is doing well, Boy. She is the oldest of our four children and we have another one on the way. Perhaps two.”

“The countess does look large,” Boy agreed. “I could see two babes being in there.”

So, Boy had been watching them. But for how long?

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