She hesitated but nodded again. Lowering himself to his knees beside her, he put his conch aside and took her small foot in his hands. He slid her mud-caked slipper off and looked at her foot. Gabe hadn’t the faintest idea what to look for, or why he had offered in the first place, but something about his faerie waif compelled him to offer his help.
Her big toe had become red and swollen. “It looks painful,” he said, as though it would somehow help. “I cannae tell if it’s broken or nae. If ye want, ye can come with me back to my uncle’s estate and we can summon the physician.”
She hastily shook her head, looking fearful once more. A brief, puzzled frown marred his forehead before he forcibly cleared it.
“What is yer name?” he asked.
“I’m Mary.” Her small voice barely reached his ears.
He smiled. “Hello, Mary. My name is Gabriel Ashley.”
“No,” she said, a little louder, a slow smile curving her lips.
Gabe frowned into her grey eyes. “I beg yer pardon?”
“You are Prince Sebastian, escaped from the clutches of the evil serpent witch, Alexandra, just to save me. And I am charmed.”
Gabe wrinkled his nose. Was the girl daft? “Prince…What?”
Her smile finally grew to split across her pale, freckle-specked face.
“Prince Sebastian,” she repeated as though he was hard of hearing. She shifted into a seated position beside him as she pulled her foot out of his grasp. She replaced her muddy stocking and slipper back over her pale skin, grimacing at the pain the simple movement caused. “Prince Sebastian is my one true love and he has now saved me from the dreaded pirate, Murderous Jack!” She flung her hand high in the air as though holding a sword aloft and gazed into the glinting sunlight. “He drew his sword and slashed the pirate through the heart,” she stabbed her fictitious sword through the air, “his blood spurting over the ground and a sickening gurgle in the cad’s scurrilous throat!”
Gabe winced. Bloodthirsty lass. “How old are ye?” he asked.
She lowered her arm and looked at him with innocent eyes. “Six. But when I marry Prince Sebastian I shall be three and twenty because I would prefer to spend my youth at balls dancing with all the gentlemen instead of wasting those years bearing children.”
“Verra decided fer so young a girl.” Gabe felt the dampness of the ground seep through the knees of his breeches, but determinedly ignored it…despite how cross it would make his uncle.
“Decided, indeed,” she agreed with a quick nod. “How old are you, then?”
“Eleven. Nearly twelve.”
“You talk funny,” she noted. Her head was tilted at an angle of curiosity, making Gabe believe she had not meant to insult him.
“Me mum is Scottish. Me—my—da is an English naval captain.”
“But if you live with English people, doesn’t your accent go away?” A gust of wind blew around them, picking up several locks of Mary’s loose auburn hair and flicking them around her small oval face.
“I ken how te speak without my accent, but I choose not te.”
She lowered her chin to rest it upon her raised knees. “It seems to me that you prefer to speak with your accent. If you wanted to speak like an Englishman, you would not struggle so, switching between the two.”
He frowned, not particularly liking this conversation. “What ofyourspeech?” he asked, “Why do you speak so well but are out of doors without a nanny or governess, and are covered in dirt?”
“Why, ‘tis simple, of course!” She smiled over the tops of her knees. “My Papa is a crofter on Baron Winning’s land and Mama is learned and wishes for me to make an ad—” Her nose wrinkled as she struggled to find the word. “Advent…advantat…advantageousmarriage one day—”
“To a prince, of course,” Gabe interrupted.
“Yes, to a prince. So, Mama bought books with Papa’s earnings and makes me read and do my maths.” She grimaced in distaste. “I despise math.” Her face brightened. “Shakespeare, however, is very pleasing. Indeed, I could read his plays all day.”
Gabe’s eyebrows rose. “Ye are verra young to enjoy such advanced reading.”
Mary tipped her head sideways and gave a shrug. “Well, Mama helps me read,” she amended. “But I do so enjoy it.”
“A lover of theatre, are ye?”
“Yes!” She bounced awkwardly on her bottom. “Mama says I’m a thes…thesepi…thisp…” She huffed an exasperated breath.
