Henry narrowed his eyes, watching Raf as the boy watched the stallion. Was it really worth taking the risk that history might repeat itself with Jenova’s son? Mayhap he could do now for Raf what the lord of his childhood had failed to do for him?
“Would you like to ride my horse?” The words came out of Henry before he could stop them. In response, the boy’s face lit up like a beacon, and it was already too late to bring them back.
“Oh yes,” Raf whispered. “May I? May I really?”
If Henry had been inclined to change his mind, the expression in Raf’s eyes stopped him. How could he say no when the child was so excited and so grateful? And surely Jenova would not mind too much? If he remembered aright, Jenova had been as wild as Henry in her youth, and had ridden her father’s horses fearlessly, much to the poor man’s dismay. But then Jenova had been a beloved daughter, and much had been forgiven her. Matters had been far otherwise for Henry.
“Come on then,” he said gruffly and led the way toward the stallion’s stall.
The horse moved forward to snuffle Henry’s hand with its whiskery jaws, searching for a treat. “What’s his name?” Raf asked softly, gazing up in wonder at the big, horsey face.
Henry smiled down at him. “I call him Lamb.”
“Lamb?” the boy repeated, frowning. “That does not sound very frightening, Lord Henry. I thought a horse such as this would be named something more…” He stopped and glanced quickly at Henry, as if suddenly realizing he was on the verge of being impolite. “Why do you call him Lamb?” he asked quickly instead.
“Because he can be as gentle as one, when he wishes to be. The rest of the time he is more like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Raf thought about that. “Do you think he will be gentle now?”
“I’ll make certain of it.”
Raf nodded, perfectly trusting. The knowledge that he was looked upon in such a light made Henry feel anxious and slightly sick. He did not want to be anyone’s guardian angel, and he certainly did not want to keep watch over Jenova’s son. He was hardly suited to such a position, and he did not desire the responsibility. And yet that was what he had just done, in the matter of the stallion. He had taken upon himself the mantle of Raf’s guardian uncle, if not quite angel. No, definitely not an angel….
Henry smiled. Lord Henry of Montevoy as an angel? Now there was an amusing thought!
After instructing Raf in a no-nonsense voice to stand well back where it was safe, Henry saddled the stallion and led him out of his stall. Lamb had decided to abide by his name this morning and plodded from the stable placidly enough, only half rearing once, when he spied a basket full of kittens to one side of the door. The mother cat hissed and arched her back, but they were already out into the yard, and Lamb pretended not to notice the insult.
Raf followed them with wide-eyed expectancy, careful to stay at a safe distance from Lamb’s enormous, feathery hooves. Henry lifted the boy onto the saddle, chuckling as he slipped and had to cling with both hands to save himself. Not that he had been in any danger—Henry would have grabbed him if he had started to fall.
“Now hold tight,” he warned, and led the stallion a few gentle steps.
Raf’s grin of delight threatened to split his face in two. Had the boy really been so lacking in male companionship that he found a round of the stableyard on Henry’s stallion so exciting? In truth, this was tame stuff, and Henry was sure they could do better. He glanced about and noted that the bailey was still nearly empty. The weather and the early hour had made the castle servants reluctant to begin their day. He didn’t see the harm in taking the boy out under the gatehouse and then back again.
Henry slipped his foot into the stirrup and swung himself up behind Raf, wrapping one strong arm about the boy to hold him close.
“Are you ready?” he asked calmly.
Raf nodded, his brown hair flopping, and he turned excited green eyes up to Henry.
Henry smiled and, with a gentle tap of his heels, set Lamb at a trot toward the gate.
“He is very big,” Raf said, his voice jumping up and down with the movement of the horse.
“Very big.”
“He is very fast.”
Henry smiled again. “Yes, very fast. Too fast for you, Raf. But when you are older, then you will have a horse just like this.”
The green eyes turned speculative. “Do you swear it, Lord Henry?”
Instantly, Henry wondered what in God’s name had possessed him to say such a thing. He couldn’t swear to give the boy something over which he had no eventual control. This was Jenova’s son, and naught to do with Henry. Alfric would have more influence over this boy! And yet Henry wanted to say yes, he wanted to make Raf smile, he wanted to give Raf something he himself had never had. And suddenly that selfish desire meant more to Henry than any trouble he might cause himself later on.
“I swear it.”
Raf’s smile was stunningly brilliant. Henry had never realized before what joy there was in making a child smile. Mayhap he had been wrong in having no children of his own, in thinking they would only bring him pain. Mayhap there was even something healing in spending time with the very young.
Some time later, Jenova paused in the stable doorway, her heart giving a sudden, hard thud. She had been seeking Henry all over Gunlinghorn Castle, and here he was, sitting on an overturned barrel by the brazier in the stable with her son. Their heads were bent close over something or other, Raf leaning his body trustingly against Henry’s side.