Henry gasped. “But we’ll starve!” His face suddenly darkened and his eyes filled with guilt. “I need to tell you that every morning you left me with Miss Fiona, she would make me a big, delicious breakfast. And she let me sneak cookies and tarts upstairs, which I hid in my bedroom for later.”
“You ate a second breakfast every morning?” Mac asked in disbelief.
“Um… no, not a second one,” Henry admitted, looking down at his cereal. “I sneaked the food you cooked for me under the table to Misneach.”
Mac stood up with a burst of laughter and snatched Henry up in his arms. “You made that poor pup eat burned toast and rubbery eggs?” He shook his head. “Either Misneach is a very good friend or the beast doesn’t have one discerning taste bud.”
His eyes level with Mac’s, Henry blinked at him. “You’re not angry?”
Mac shifted the boy to one arm and picked up the bowl and glass from the table and carried them to the sink. “No, I’m not angry. In fact, I’m touched that you wanted to spare my feelings.” He turned serious, giving Henry a squeeze. “But it only proves how much work there is ahead of us if we have any hope of surviving until I get back in the good graces of your Grampy Titus.”
“Then can we have servants?” Henry asked as Mac strode outside with him in his arms. “And we’ll go live in Atlantis, and I can travel back and forth through time with you to all the different centuries?”
Mac stopped in the middle of the driveway. “We’re not going to live in Atlantis, because… well, because I’ve outgrown my father’s home. And even after my powers are restored, we’ll still spend most of our time in Maine in this century. We need to put down roots, son, and I can’t think of a better place for us to call home. We have many good friends here, and I find the technology of this century to be rather enjoyable.”
“But what about the women?”
“What about them?” Mac asked, setting the boy down.
“Do you find the women in this century enjoyable, too?” Henry frowned up at him. “Because if you don’t pick out a wife soon, Grampy’s going to pick one for you.” The child gave a shudder. “And I’d rather we chose her, because the lady Grampy had picked out for you before he decided on Miss Fiona instead was…” He shuddered again. “She scared the hell out of me, Dad,” he whispered. “I don’t think Gadzalina would have any problem lifting your sword, and I never once saw her smile.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s Gadzalina?”
“She’s the woman Grampy sent for right after he stole me away from my uncles. He brought Gadzalina to the ship to take care of me so he could finish slaughtering the demons trying to kill you. And I heard him telling her how honored she should feel that he’d chosen her over all the other beautiful women on the island to be your bride.” The boy scrunched up his face. “If Gadzalina is Grampy’s idea of a beautiful woman, maybe instead of learning how to cook we should put our energies into finding you a bride, as I certainly understand how that consequence will affect me.”
Mac scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to wash away the image of just how close he’d come to being married to an Atlantean… beauty. Sweet Prometheus, some of those women were bigger than warriors and a whole lot scarier than he was.
And Titus wondered why Mac had spent the last several thousand years fighting his matchmaking efforts.
“Does your bride have to be a virgin?” Henry asked. “Or will any woman do?”
Mac dropped his hands in surprise. “Do you even know what a virgin is?”
Henry’s cheeks turned a dull red. “I think it means a woman who hasn’t had any children, especially any bastards like… me.”
“You are not a bastard,” Mac growled, looking around before he dropped to his knees and took hold of the boy’s shoulders. “You are my son.” He took a steadying breath and even managed to smile. “And your definition of a virgin is incomplete. She’s actually a woman who has never… who hasn’t… who . . .”
Dammit, where in hell was Olivia? Mac took another deep breath, trying to remember what the books had said about explaining sex to children. He sighed. “Why don’t you go find Olivia, and while you spend the morning helping her work through her own list of chores, you can ask her what a virgin is.”
“She can explain it better because she’s a woman?”
“Partly. But mostly because she’s likely already had this discussion with Sophie.”
“Then why don’t I just ask Sophie when she gets home? And that way instead of scrubbing and painting the cabins I can help you get the stable ready for the horses.”
Mac stood up, shaking his head. “I don’t think you should be discussing virgins with Sophie. Now quiet yourself to see where Miss Olivia is right now.”
Henry went very still, his hands balled into fists at his sides and his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he slowly gazed around the grounds of Inglenook. He pointed toward the peninsula. “There. I believe she’s in the cabin farthest out.” He looked up with such an arrogant smile that Mac actually winced at how familiar it was. “Miss Olivia’s energy is really quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Henry suddenly frowned again. “Only this morning it’s… something’s bothering her, I think, because the air around her is swirling with both fear and anger.” His eyes turned uncertain. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother her.”
Mac felt the back of his neck heat with guilt, knowing damn well what Olivia was angry and afraid of. “Or maybe this is a good time for you to see how a decision you make will affect someone else,” he suggested. “Which do you think is the better choice: avoiding a person because you’re unsure how to deal with what might be bothering her, or trying to bring her comfort?”
“You believe I’m capable of comforting Miss Olivia?”
“Did you not make her feel better after she was attacked by distracting her with simple conversation?”
Henry’s face brightened. “I did,” he said, nodding. He took off at a run toward the peninsula, but suddenly stopped and turned around. “You didn’t answer my question. Does your bride have to be a virgin?”
“No, Henry. She only need be brave.”
The boy arched a brow in question, but then suddenly grinned before Mac could elaborate. “I know: Tonight we’ll sit down together and make a list of the qualities we want in a wife.” He shook his head. “As I have some requirements of my own, since I’m going to be living with her, too.” He started walking backward. “She’s got to like little boys, and be a good cook, and enjoy flying kites and fishing and hiking. And, she needs to smile a lot.” He stopped. “I think we better put that she likes animals at the top of the list. And she must also like the ocean.”
Mac arched a brow, trying not to laugh. “Any requirements on what this paragon should look like?”
Henry started walking backward again. “We took care of that by saying she has to smile a lot. All women are pretty when they smile.” And with that the boy spun around and headed up the narrow lane at a run.
Mac headed toward the stable, wondering how long it would take Henry to realize that Olivia met every requirement he’d listed.
Well, except maybe one. Which was the most important, considering that if Olivia couldn’t even find the courage to return his jacket, there was a very good chance she would run screaming in terror if he did propose to her—because likes and dislikes and beautiful smiles aside, only a very brave woman would agree to marry the beast hidden inside the man.
Chapter Ten
Olivia was so ashamed of herself that she walked out of cabin four leaving it only half cleaned, determined to spend the rest of the morning focused completely on Henry. Mac had paid a small fortune to come early for some one-on-one help with his son, and she was guilty of neglecting the poor child in order to avoid his father.
Obviously at a complete loss as to how to answer Henry’s question about virgins, and likely at the expense of his pride, Mac had sent the boy to her in hopes she could explain the birds and bees in terms a
six-year-old would understand. Which she had to admit was very admirable of Mac, as Olivia was afraid he would have gone too in-depth, not realizing that children Henry’s age didn’t need—or particularly want—to know the details of what Mom and Dad were doing behind closed doors.
Come to think of it, neither did teenagers, Olivia thought with a smile as she patted the newly replanked dock for Henry to sit beside her.
“Dad believes you probably already told Sophie what makes a woman a virgin,” Henry said. “But that I should ask you instead of her, because…” He scrunched up his shoulders. “I guess he thinks you might be a virgin, so you could probably explain it better.” He glanced up when Olivia started coughing. “But I don’t believe you are because you have Sophie. I think virgins are women who haven’t had babies.”
“Well, you’re partially right. Women who’ve had babies definitely aren’t virgins.”
“That’s what Dad said. But what’s the other part?”
“Before I answer that,” Olivia said, stalling to get her thoughts in order, “let me ask you where you heard the term virgin. Is it something your father said?”
Henry glanced up again, his expression guarded, then looked out at the lake. “No. Uncle Reginald said it when I heard him yelling at Mama once. He told her that no man would ask for her hand in marriage because she wasn’t a virgin anymore, especially because she had a bastard child.” Two red flags colored his cheeks as he leaned toward her. “He was referring to me,” he whispered. He took a deep breath, squaring his young shoulders. “Only when I just mentioned it to Dad, he got angry and said I wasn’t a bastard because I’m his son.” He leaned closer again. “But I think I really am, because I think it means something besides just being a bad person. Please, Miss Olivia, will you tell me what a bastard really is?”
Olivia also took a deep breath in an attempt to ease the growing ache in her chest. “If you look up the word in a dictionary, a bastard is the child of a mother and father who aren’t married to each other. And in olden times that used to be a bad thing, and that’s why calling someone a bastard is considered an insult. But today,” she rushed on when his expression fell, “it’s more acceptable for a child’s parents not to be married, so now the word mostly refers to a bad person.”
“But if Mama and my dad weren’t married to each other, that means I really am a bastard,” he said thickly, his eyes welling with tears.
Feeling her own eyes growing blurry, Olivia pulled him against her side in a fierce hug. “It’s a very old term in the literal sense, Henry,” she said past the lump in her throat. “And now it doesn’t really have anything to do with the circumstances of your birth. Today it’s just what we call a no-good, rotten person.” She lifted his chin so he’d see her smile. “Want to know a secret? I’m a bastard, too,” she said, nodding when his eyes widened in surprise. “My mom and dad weren’t married to each other, either.”
“They weren’t?”
“Nope.” She brushed a finger across his cheek, wiping away a tear that had spilled free. “And my mama died when I was four, so I also know a little something about what you’ve been going through these past few months.”
“And did your dad come take you to live with him, too?”
Olivia hugged him to her again so he wouldn’t see her expression. “He came when he eventually found out my mother had died, but he couldn’t take me to live with him because of the kind of work he did. He did stay in town a couple of weeks, though, and visited me at the home where I was staying. But he eventually had to return to work.”
“And did he come back and get you later?”
“No. I never heard from him again.” She gave the child another fierce hug. “Your father is a very good man, Henry, and he loves you very, very much; so much that I know he’d move heaven and earth and any mountains that got in his way to be with you.” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm, warding off the chill she was feeling. “So I don’t ever want to hear you refer to yourself as a bastard, especially in front of him, okay? The word only means a bad person now.” She patted his knee. “And you, young Mr. Oceanus, are one of the nicest persons I know.” She swiped her eyes with her sleeve and nudged him to sit upright. “So, back to the definition of a virgin,” she said with forced levity. “A virgin is a woman—or a man—who… well, it’s someone who’s never had sex.”
There, she’d said it. And if Mac got mad at her, then he could just deal with it.
She looked down when Henry said nothing, only to find him frowning up at her. “That’s it?” he asked. “Just never having sex makes a woman a virgin?”
“Do you even know what having sex is, Henry?”
He snorted. “Of course I do. Mama explained it to me when I saw our stableman fornicating with her maid in the hayloft. It’s how babies are made.” He beamed her a brilliant smile. “Animals have sex, too. That’s how all babies are made.”
Well, Olivia guessed that took care of that little problem, didn’t it?
That is, until Henry frowned again. “Only that’s what has me confused. Uncle Reginald told Mama no man would marry her because she wasn’t a virgin anymore, but when I asked Dad if the wife we have to find him needs to be a virgin, he said no, that she only needs to be brave.”
Olivia sucked in a surprised breath, pressing a hand to her suddenly pounding heart. “Your dad is looking for a wife?”
Henry snorted again. “We certainly don’t want Grampy picking her out for us.” He made a face even as he shuddered. “Gadzalina scared the hell out of me.”
“Gadzalina?” Olivia repeated, deciding not to point out that saying hell was just as bad as saying bastard.
“She’s the lady Grampy brought to his ship so Dad could marry her.” He smiled again. “But then Grampy changed his mind and decided to marry us to Miss Fiona instead. Except Mr. Trace said he had first dibs on her. That’s when I got really scared, because I thought that meant we were stuck with Gadzalina. But Mr. Trace blew a hole in the ship and Dad stole me right out from under Grampy’s nose, and we all escaped.” He looked out at the lake and sighed. “Only Dad has just one year to settle down and become a good father or Grampy’s going to take me back and raise me himself. But now we’ve only got nine months left.” He looked up at her, smiling again. “That’s why we came here, so you can help us.”
Olivia realized her mouth was hanging open and slowly closed it.
Because really, not one thing this boy was saying made a lick of sense.
“Henry, where did you live with your mother?” she asked, trying to unravel his fantastical tale by starting at the beginning. “In what country?”
“England.”
“And your mother was wealthy enough to have a stableman and a maid?”
He puffed out his tiny chest, looking somewhat imperial—rather like his father did sometimes. “Briarsworth had a staff of ninety-six servants just for the manor house and stable alone, and I don’t know how many more working the land.”
“Ninety-six?” Olivia repeated in a squeak.
Henry arched a brow—again looking so much like Mac it was scary. “It takes a lot of people to run a dukedom, you know. Only when Uncle Reginald inherited the title he lost some of the lands in a game of chance, and so Mama had to let several of the servants go. I remember how angry she was with him, saying Grandfather Penhope was probably rolling over in his grave. That’s when Reginald told Mama she’d better get used to his rule, because no man would have her now that she wasn’t a virgin—especially since she’d given birth to Maximilian Oceanus’s bastard.”
Oh God, they were back to that.
“So, Henry, what’s your favorite cartoon?” she asked lightheartedly, determined to move away from bastards and virgins by finding out what sort of television shows the child watched, or what books his father was reading him.
Because really, the boy’s imagination was way over the top.
He blinked up at her, clearly confused. “I don’t watch cartoons. They
’re silly.”
“Then what do you read? Or what does your father read to you?”
His face brightened. “Every night Dad’s been reading me the book Aunt Carolina sent me. It’s a compilation of ancient mythology. I’m learning who all the different gods are and their roles in creating the modern world.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Come to think of it, all the gods kept having sex with each other and even with mortals they weren’t married to, and most of them are bastards, too.”
Olivia sighed. “Let’s try using the term illegitimate, Henry. It’s far less offensive.”
“Okay; most of the gods are illegitimate.” He brightened again. “Did you know that besides being the god of the sea, Poseidon is also in charge of horses and earthquakes?” He nudged her with his elbow. “So if you ever feel the ground shaking, don’t be scared, okay? It’s probably just my dad moving heaven and earth and any mountains in his way to get to me.”
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