In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 13

He looked down to see the shocked gaze of the boy from the common room.

Embarrassment for his earlier thoughts, that an angel had been touching his person, Greyson found himself snapping at the creature. "Who the devil are you?"

Greyson was surprised that instead of fear on the boy's face - he had seemed awfully intent on ridding himself of Greyson's notice earlier - the face of the urchin colored, his lips pinching. The lad's eyes narrowed into splints. A sure challenge, if ever there was one.

"I'd be glad to enlighten you as soon as you unhand me, my lord."

He must be young indeed, Greyson thought, the soft, lyrical voice high-pitched...and deuced familiar, he thought. Once more, he was struck at the boy's eyes. They reminded him of Charlotte's. Which was unlikely. How much of a chance was it to witness two sets of unusual aqua-colored eyes in a day's time?

The boy was skinnier than the woman had been. His hair was a blunt cut at his chin. Had Charlotte's been lighter in color? Rounded cheeks, a dimple in his chin.

Had Charlotte had such a distinct feature? He couldn't remember what with the tart debacle, and then the fisticuffs with the despicable man on the balcony.

Greyson wasn't allowed further time to ponder the peculiarities. "Are you going to remove your person or shall I do it for you?"

The speech was damned near laughable, Greyson thought. The boy was slight, no doubt still on the cusp of manhood. He had the urge to grin, admiring the boy's spirit. The lad had addressed him as 'my lord' so he knew he was a member of the peerage. But did he know who he had knocked to the ground? Was he aware that perhaps he should be more strict with his sharp tongue?

Another aspect of the lad that reminded him of his Charlotte. Honey and vinegar, he thought.

The furrowing of his brows brought about a spike of pain.

"Bloody hell, lad," Greyson asked, one hand probing the gash upon his head, "what did you hit me with?"

Before long, Greyson thought wryly, he was going to look like the veriest ninny with his bumps and bruises. He had never, not once, been hit by anyone or anything in all his life. Now, in the span of the day and a night, he had been subjected to three!

The veriest ninny.

The boy smirked slightly, as if pleased of his accomplishments. "Twas only a metal shard I found." He said this as if Greyson had been downed by a feather rather than wearing a bruise and an oozing wound. The lad nodded towards the far right corner, and Greyson grimaced at the solid piece of metal shining on the ground. No wonder it had hurt like the devil.

His hand investigating his scalp, his lips tightened when he came upon another bump.

"From when you fell like a tree."

Greyson narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Do you find this amusing?"

The boy had the good grace to look chagrined, at least. "I am sorry, for what it's worth. But how was I to know you weren't the thieves coming back? I managed to bite the tall one, and he wasn't particularly thrilled."

If Greyson hadn't already been injured, he would have been knocked over with how those words rang with another's voice in his head - a female voice. But how was I to know...?

Hadn't Charlotte berated him for not announcing himself?

His eyebrows went up as what the boy said finally processed. "You bit him?"

The boy smiled widely, a smug, thin-lipped one that spoke of his pleasure. "He tried to steal my horse," the boy said simply, his nose crinkled. "Besides, he hurt Sir Rupert, pulling on his reins like that."