Page 4 of Apple Boy

Inside the storehouse was dark, but from a small circular upper window a shaft of dazzling morning sunlight cut through the gloom and revealed billowing dust motes dancing lazily in the stale air. I noted the scents of sweet damp decay and freshly sawn wood. Equipment with huge timber cogs and screws that I assumed was for cider making sat idle, and empty aged oak barrels awaited this season’s draught.

On the wall inside to the left of the door, wicker baskets with leather shoulder straps hung in a line on hooks. Adam fished one down and then looked at me with narrow-eyed consideration. I stared back blankly. Everything was so new to me that I felt like a blundering fool.

“Win, isn’t it?” Adam asked his tone flat and aggravated.

“Yes. Irwin Harding”, I said, and as any gentleman would on becoming newly acquainted, I automatically offered my hand. Adam looked at me, puzzled and then his annoyance melted away and a broad grin made his whole face light up. It appeared that my good manners had cut through his poor humor. He reached out, took my hand and then and gave it a shake. His grip was warm, firm, and sincere. I could tell from the calluses I felt on his skin that his hands were well used. I liked the feeling of those rough working man’s hands against my skin.

“Gods, y’are a funny fish, Win Harding,” he snickered. “I’m Adam. As ye might have guessed, he’s my pa.” With some regret on my part, Adam let go of my hand.

“Sorry he did that to ye—” Adam said glancing down at my privates. I blushed at his regard.

“He’s a devil… goes for those he sees as weaker—different. And you, err, stand out, so you do.” He paused for a moment studying me as if he were drinking me in.

“As best ye can, I’d say ye keep yer head down. Try to be invisible, don’t catch his eye. Oh, an’ the steward, Nico Barat is a right gobshite. Don’t attract his attention neither. Just work hard, stick with me an’ you’ll be grand.” Adam advised.

“Of course, yes, thank you,” I said gratefully.

“Anyways, t’is nice te see a new face—” He added, his gaze lingering on me—specifically, on my mouth, for a little longer than necessary. Blood rushed to color my cheeks.

I wondered why Adam was giving me doe eyes. Could he somehow see I preferred the affections of men and was trying to get me to reveal myself for some malicious reason? The province of Erias had different customs to that of Thorn when it came to love. I was free to bed whoever caught my eye back home, but I was warned that of all the provinces I was to be most discrete when in Erias. I could end up in the stocks, or, depending on the magistrate, even on the gallows if I was caught with a male lover in my bed.

Looking into Adam’s kind green eyes and then at his genuine smile, there didn’t appear to be a wicked bone in his body. Adam protected me from his father and offered advice on how to avoid further trouble. I decided that, plain and simple, his attention was a compliment, and so I reacted appropriately.

”Um, thank you,” I stuttered as I bowed a little, and then remembered I wasn’t supposed to be a gentleman here. I straightened and felt the blush heat my cheeks once more. Adam watched me curiously.

“How’d ye get here?” He asked suspiciously.

My brows knitted, I wondered if it was a trick question, “By wagon?” I replied cautiously.

“Yeah, I know that!” Adam laughed and elbowed me in a way that felt all too familiar and friendly. “But I can see by yer manners, and—other things, that ye ain’t from these parts. I’m thinkin’ ye wouldn’t be mixing with the likes of me unless ye’d fallen on hard times.”

“I would mix with you!” I stated defiantly before I realized the import of such a declaration. It was Adam’s turn to blush. He looked at me, no, Adam looked into me, and his suspicious demeanor softened.

“Turn around there, Win Harding,” he said ponderously, a smile in his voice. I did as he directed. Adam stepped closer and held the basket up.

“I gotsta measure where it’ll sit on yer back an’ adjust the straps,” he explained. “Ye don’t want to pull yer back out when it’s laden.” I waited as Adam adjusted the leather straps. His closeness made my skin prickle in the most thrilling way. At such close quarters I could smell the musky maleness of his skin, and in response, the blood in my veins thrummed so loudly it near deafened me.

“Here,” he said, “Try this.” I turned and threaded my arms through the brown leather straps he held open. I hunched, pulling the basket onto my back. It sat low, touching my buttocks. Adam reached around from behind me, his knuckles brushing against my chest as he grappled for the straps. He tugged at the leather straps, so the basket rose to sit higher.

“Is that better?” he asked. I wriggled and tested the straps. “Yes, that feels good.” I enjoyed my sudden proximity to this handsome man and knowing my urges if we were in Thorn I would have attempted to seduce him without a second thought. My mind drifted to pleasant imaginings of us moving to a dark corner of the storehouse where we would have kissed and opened the front our britches to let our fingers delve and explore one another’s musky heat.

“APPLE BOY!” Farmer Sewell’s roar made us both jump apart with shock. My guilty eyes darted to meet Adam’s and I saw all of the lightness and ease drain from his face. Adam’s handsome visage twisted into a grimace of disdain. He gritted his teeth, and I heard him fiercely mutter,

“I wish he’d stop callin’ me that.”

I wondered now if Adam was going to get the beating his father had not served him in the market square. Adam grabbed a basket from a hook and with a fleeting worried glance, beckoned me to follow him.

CHAPTER FOUR

KINDNESS

We exited the dark seclusion of the storehouse into the blinding blue morning light. My eyes immediately met those of Farmer Sewell and his glare widened in surprise and stormy consternation. I saw my ancestral ring glistening on his filthy thieving finger. It was the only link to my family, and so its import grew in my estimation. I tightened my jaw and quickly glanced away for all of my instincts compelled me to rip the ring off his finger and thread it onto my own.

Farmer Sewell appeared alarmed to see me exit the storehouse after Adam. I was sure then that he thought I’d left earlier with the harvesters and he’d have his son’s undivided attention. It was no great leap to see he was ready to punish his son for his supposed earlier insubordination.

Adam did not pause to give his father the time of day; he just kept walking nonchalantly through the courtyard.

“Oy! Adam! Get back ‘ere, ye scut!” Sewell roared.