Love, Honour and Obey

Chapter 8

Caleb

Caleb had just returned from his morning run and wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel when a young woman from the serving staff approached him. He hung the towel over his shoulders as she spoke.

"Mistress Nyathena requests your presence in the stables." The words caused him to quirk his brow. It was unusual that a message was delivered in such a manner. "She asks you not to be concerned about getting changed and to meet her promptly."

"Thank you," he replied to the young woman. Normally, after returning from his morning run, he'd wash and spend some time self-grooming before starting his day's work. The change felt sudden, but he was eager to discover the reasoning for the meeting. Since their talk and coming to an understanding a couple of months ago, their relationship had solidified, and he knew what was expected of him. But there was also something else—a blossoming of need. His head was flooded with emotions he hadn't expected to feel towards another, let alone someone who had purchased him as one would buy a prized trinket.

He made his way out of the manor's back door and hurried across the formal gardens to where the horses were stabled. The stalls weren't all full as he made his way down a long corridor. On each side were stables, most of which were empty or filled with disused tack.

"Nyathena?" Caleb called out as he passed by.

"Here," she called out from inside the stable. She came to lean over the wooden door as he approached. Her hair was tied loosely in a high ponytail, and a few strands of hay poked from beneath the tresses of her long length. She swiped a few away as she opened the stable doors and closed them behind her.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked, standing before her as he had been instructed. His hands mirrored behind his back, posture straight, giving her his full attention. As his eyes took her in, he noticed she looked different. Her usual formal attire had been swapped for horse-riding gear—loose-fitting riding breeches, knee-high leather boots, a brown waistcoat, and a long-sleeved shirt adorned with frills down the button seams and a high-necked collar. The look suited her differently from her usual statement pieces.

Nyathena waved away his rigid posture. "Have you ever ridden?" she asked.

His thick arms relaxed by his sides. "Not in a long time," he said wistfully.

"But you know how?" she inquired.

"Yes, of course," he replied, momentarily confused. In Parrvolis, almost everyone knew how to ride.

"Good. There's some suitable clothing in the stall over there. Change, please," she commanded cordially, pointing to where he was to change. She turned her back on him and re-entered the stall, where a horse snorted.

Caleb nodded his head and made his way to the stall. Somehow he'd missed the clothing hanging on the hook where a bail of straw would normally be hung. He stripped his jogging shirt from his broad chest and shrugged a tailored coat over his shoulders. He tugged the bottom of it down slightly to cover his large frame. The tails of the coat were long at the back and reached the back of his knees. He pulled a white pair of trousers off their hanger and, after removing his shorts, pulled them up to his waist. They felt tight and were form-fitting. He smoothed them down and pulled on the pair of riding boots that had been left on the floor. They clicked slightly on the cobbled floor as he approached.

While he had been getting changed, Nyathena had led a horse from the stable. A beautiful chestnut mare. She was a large beast of burden, with a white blaze down her nose and broad fluffy hooves. A draft horse best suited for working the field.