“I know she must be buried,” she whispered. “But it is difficult to think of putting my little sister in the ground when she was alive and well only two days ago. I simply cannot believe that she has passed.”
He kissed her cheek. “I know,” he muttered, “for I have been in your shoes. I understand completely.”
She looked up at him, the hazel eyes swimming with tears. “I heard whispers once that you lost your wife years ago,” she said. “Cartingdon Parrish, if nothing else, is a fertile ground for gossip. If it is untrue, I apologize for repeating it.”
He gazed into her eyes, remembering the pain he had suffered through four years ago. Strange how he didn’t feel it as horrifically as he used to; true, it was still there, like a faded ache from long ago. Oddly enough, Toby seemed to do a great deal towards pushing it into the deep recesses of his memory where it was a moment of sadness and nothing more. It had been a time when he thought he had died inside. But Toby made him feel very much alive and he was willing to speak on the subject.
“It is true,” he said. “She perished in childbirth. I lost my daughter as well.”
Toby’s grief shifted focus. “I am so terribly sorry for you,” she said sincerely. “Losing a sister is bad enough, but to lose your wife and child… I surely cannot imagine the pain you experienced.”
“I hope you never will. I will do my best to ensure that you do not.”
Toby stared into his storm colored eyes, realizing she felt comforted by the fact that he had indeed experienced grief on her level. He understood. It gave her strength, somehow drawing them closer, and she wiped at her face in an effort to compose herself.
“Then we should not keep Ailsa waiting,” she rose from his lap but continued to hold his hand. “I am ready.”
He stood next to her, towering over her with his size and strength. Gently, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as they moved towards the door.
“Your bravery, as always, is astonishing,” he said softly, allowing her to pass first through the door.
She smiled weakly. “’Tis not bravery. ’Tis simply the way of things; it must be done and hysterics on my part will not change it.”
“That is much more like the Elizabetha I first met at Forestburn.”
“How do you mean?”
“Strong and decisive.”
“And appalling?”
He grinned, hearing his words echoed. “You are never going to forgive me for that, are you?”
“Perhaps. But not today.”
He kissed her hand as she descended the stairs, his gaze lingering on her golden brown head. As much as he had loved his wife, he couldn’t ever remember feeling such strong emotion for her as he felt for Toby. There was something about the woman that already had her embedded deep into his heart and soul as if nothing else had existed before.
Together, they made their way to the tiny chapel of Harbottle. Toby felt moderately strong until she entered the chapel and saw her sister’s coffin near the altar. Then, she faltered, her eyes brimming and her heart pounding. It was a struggle to remain strong. As Tate escorted her into the small chamber, Kenneth, Stephen and Edward were there to greet her. One of the most tender acts of compassion that Tate had ever seen was when the young king, unable to voice his sympathies, took Toby’s hand and held it tightly. As she struggled not to cry, he struggled not to cry also. He just stood there and held her hand. The little girl that had so terrified him with her attention had nonetheless left her mark.
Wallace gave the liturgy that sent Ailsa’s young soul to a better place. Instead of a hymn, Tate stood over the grave and sang the song that Ailsa had loved so well.
To the sky, my sweet babe;
The night is alive, my sweet babe.
Your dreams are filled with raindrops from heaven;
Sleep, my sweet babe, and cry no more.
The tenderness of it broke Toby’s heart.
January was a bitterly cold month and it was rare that the sun was able to break through the heavy covering of clouds at any given time. On the afternoon following Ailsa’s burial, the sun, remarkably, was able to burst through the mist. In the master’s chamber, organizing all of her worldly possessions, Toby took it as a sign from God. She thought perhaps he was happier now that he had Ailsa to keep him company and that thought, however foolish it seemed, kept her from the depths of grief. It was a comfort.
She stood for a moment in the lancet window, eyes closed, feeling the weak warmth on her face. Her emerald-colored surcoat was in her hands, as she had been fussing with a spot on the fabric. She knew it must have occurred the night Tate and his knights had come to sup at Forestburn. She remembered that day with some fondness, though it seemed like a terribly long time ago. In fact, everything at Forestburn seemed like it belonged to another time and another world. Now her world was Harbottle Castle and a future she could never have imagined.
A future that revolved around a man she was becoming increasingly attached to. As Toby kept busy in her chamber, Tate and his men were down in the bailey effecting repairs on the walls and front gates. The siege had left them burned and a small army of men were going into the forest that lay to the south of the castle and harvesting trees to rebuild the gates. Toby could see the men in the distance filtering in and out of the tree line. She didn’t see Tate but she imagined he was among them.
Thoughts of the man brought a smile to her lips. For twenty-one years of her life, she had been relatively alone. She had never imagined she would ever wed, as she had firmly told Tate when they first met. Now she was betrothed to the man who had called her appalling. She giggled softly as she thought of his initial impression of her; not that he hadn’t been correct, but at least now he saw her strong personality as a positive trait and not a negative one. She hoped, with time, he would see her as much more. She couldn’t even hope that the man would love her; that was a fool’s dream. A strong like was good enough for her.
A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts and she turned in the direction of the panel.
“Come,” she called.
The door creaked open softly and Stephen stood there, his cornflower blue eyes intense. “Good afternoon, mistress,” he said in his deep, gentle voice. “I have brought you something.”
Curious, Toby stepped away from the window and the glare of the weak January sun. Immediately, she spied something small and furry in the crook of Stephen’s left arm. Two big cat-eyes looked back at her.
“My goodness,” she said with a grin. “What in the world do you have, Sir Stephen?”
Stephen took a timid step into the room. “I seem to remember you boring one of my patients with tales of your cats,” he indicated the little orange kitten in his grasp. “I brought you one.”
Toby’s smiled broadened with delight as she set the emerald garment aside. She held her hands out and Stephen deposited the warm, purring bundle into them. She hugged it tightly.
“He is so sweet,” she crooned, laying her cheek against the furry head. “Wherever did you find him?”
“The stable is full of them,” he told her. “They multiply like mad in there. This one, however, is small and seems to be left out of the food chain. I thought you could help him since you seem to like cats so much.”
She cuddled her new pet, her hazel eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you,” she stroked the little head and was rewarded with a healthy meow. “I love him already.”
Stephen smiled, watching her embrace the kitten. It had worked the magic he hoped it would. In truth, while Tate was off repairing the castle, Stephen had finished with his rounds in the great hall and had set off to the stables in search of a cat. He’d seen them there before and as luck would have it, there were several for his choosing. He’d stood by and watched her say a very difficult farewell to her sister that morning and was hoping the cat would cheer her up.
“Well,” he said, realizing his business was concluded and that he should probably leave. “I can see that the cat
is in good hands.”
Petting the kitten, Toby began looking around the room. “I fear that I have nothing to feed him. I should go down to the kitchen and find him something.”
“Would you allow me to accompany you?”
A twinge of disquiet ran through Toby as she gazed up into his brilliant blue eyes. She was coming to sense that the man was interested in her on more than a mere acquaintance level; that was obvious when Tate and Stephen ran into each other in her chamber last night. She did not want to be cruel to the man but she did not want to encourage him, either.
“I am sure you have more important things to attend to,” she insisted. “You do not need to worry about me. I can fend for myself.”
“You are the last person I would worry over,” he replied. “And I offer to escort you for purely selfish reasons.”
“What might those be?”
“Because I want to.”
A warning bell went off in Toby’s head. The smiled faded from her lips as she gazed up at him, not at all wanting to hurt the man’s feelings for he had been inordinately kind to her. But it was not fair to not tell him the truth of the matter; she wasn’t interested in him and never would be so long as Tate was in her life. She cocked her head thoughtfully, trying to think of the correct way to phrase what she must say.
“Sir Stephen,” she started off hesitantly. “May I… speak with you?”
His expression warmed. “Of course. What do you wish to speak of?”
The cat meowed again and she looked at the animal, rubbing its ears as she thought of way not to upset the big knight.
“You have been extremely kind to my sister and me,” she began. “I want you to know how grateful I am. You have been compassionate and attentive and I will never forget your kindness.”
“It has been my pleasure,” he said before she could finish her train of thought. Then he wriggled his eyebrows. “Although when we were first introduced, I must admit I was not so sure our association would be pleasant.”
Toby was caught off-guard by the statement. “What do you mean?”
Stephen laughed softly. “You were, shall we say, rather outspoken.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I see,” she sighed with exasperation. “Did all of you think I was an appalling lout, then?”
He laughed again. “You were not a conventional lady, to be sure. I think we were caught off guard more than anything. It was apparent having only known you for a few minutes that you were the one who ran the town, not your father. We could see who truly held the power.”
“And?”
“And a strong woman is a rare thing though, in this case, not entirely unpleasant.”
She frowned in a way that made him laugh yet again. “I am so pleased to see that I have somehow redeemed myself.”
“You have,” his laughter faded as the cornflower eyes grew intense once more. “In fact, I would say that you are one of the more appealing ladies I have met. Very appealing, in fact.”
They were back to his obvious interest and Toby swallowed hard at the look in his eye. She hugged the kitten closer as if the little animal would somehow protect her from him.
“Sir Stephen,” she struggled her way through the sentence. “I cannot… that is to say, we cannot… if you are thinking of something more than friendship between you and I then I must very humbly decline. As flattered as I am, such a thing is not possible.”
His eyebrows lifted but the amiability was still in his expression. “Is that so? Why not?”
“Because I am betrothed.”
She watched the warmth go out of his face like water dousing a flame. The cornflower blue eyes turned hard and there was a very long pause before he replied.
“I see,” there was no warmth in his tone, either. “I was not aware when we were introduced that you were already spoken for.”
She shook her head. “I was not at the time,” she said quietly. “But that situation has changed.”
Stephen’s eyes glittered at her, inspecting her, as if trying to ascertain what, exactly, she wasn’t telling him. But he was not stupid; he could already guess. He’d been expecting it at some point. But Stephen believed he still had some time; Tate was not one to show unrestrained interest in a woman or act rashly. Neither was Stephen; yet, apparently, his sense of caution had worked against him. He’d waited too long. “Then allow me to say that Sir Tate is a fortunate man,” he said in a low voice. “I suppose it is my fault for not declaring my intentions quickly enough.”
He turned to leave but she impulsively put her hand on his arm. “I am sorry,” she said earnestly. “And I am deeply flattered.”
He gazed at her steadily, perhaps pondering things that were best left unsaid. But he couldn’t help himself from speaking. “It is I who am sorry, mistress. More than you know.”
Toby lowered her gaze, unsure what more she could say that would ease his disappointment. Anything more might sound trite or worse; she might sound as if she was mocking him. As he turned to quit the room, she stopped him.
“Do you want the cat back?” she offered timidly. “I would understand.”
He shook his head, the cornflower blue eyes without the intensity they had once held. “Nay,” he said quietly. “He is a gift.”
“I am not sure if it is proper for me to keep him.”
“It is just a cat,” he lifted his big shoulders, moving through the door. “’Tis not as if I gifted you with rubies.”
Toby watched him disappear down the stairwell. She felt sorry for the man; rejection was never an easy thing. Truth was, she was indeed very flattered. She had never really had a suitor and suddenly she had two of them, both very handsome and powerful men. But the reality was that she had eyes only for Tate. Stephen was a kind man, but there was no affection for him. His glances did not cause her to swoon nor did she think of him constantly. That privilege was reserved for de Lara.
It was very late. Toby had not seen Tate all day and now, at this late hour, she lay in bed by the light of the fire, petting her new kitten and waiting for sleep to claim her. The bailey was busy with the sounds of men working even at this late hour. It was a distraction because Toby knew that Tate was in the middle of it. She wanted to stand at the window and watch him all night but she knew he would probably become cross with her. So she took her new furry friend, George, to bed and the cat lay quite contentedly next to her. In fact, she didn’t hear a sound out of the cat until suddenly, it let out a strangled cry.
Along with the meow came a hissed curse. Startled, Toby realized that she must have fallen asleep as her eyes focused on Tate’s massive form in the darkness. She had never heard him enter. Instead of looking at her, however, he was peering at the cat.
“Where in the hell did that come from?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “I nearly sat on the beast.”
Toby struggled to sit up. “That is George,” she told him. “He was a gift.”
“A gift? From whom?”
“Sir Stephen,” she cuddled the cat, soothing it. “He gave him to me.”
Tate’s expression cooled; Toby could see that even in the darkness. “And you accepted?”
She could hear the hazard in his tone and all of her sleepiness fled. “You need not worry,” she said quietly. “He is under no false pretenses that my accepting the cat is in any way a prelude to courtship.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed with exasperation. “I told him that I was betrothed. I had to, Tate. He wanted to court me.”
The storm cloud eyes flashed. “Did he tell you that?”
Toby could see where the conversation was leading. Tate was growing angry and she did not want a blood bath on her hands. Moving the kitten aside, she patted the bed next to her.
“Sit down,” she commanded softly. “Please.”
He paused a moment before acquiescing to her wishes. He sat very close to her as she lay propped up on an elbow, his storm cloud eyes reflecting the soft firelight. Toby smiled up at hi
m, putting her hand on his thigh.
“You need not worry about Stephen,” she said quietly. “He knows that you and I are betrothed. He understands that there is no chance for him. I asked him if he wanted the cat returned, but he said that it was a gift. There is no harm in keeping a kitten given to me by a man you have clearly triumphed over. ’Twould be right for you to be a gracious winner and allow me to keep it.”
He just stared at her. Then, he gave her a lopsided smile and picked up the hand on his thigh, kissing it. “Well put,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “I knew that Stephen would assert himself sooner or later. I suppose it is best if the rejection comes from you and not me.”
She regarded him closely, seeing something of disquiet on his brow. “You are concerned for him,” she ventured.
He shrugged, lowering his gaze. “I have known Stephen for many years and consider him a friend,” he toyed with her hand. “I realize that I was somewhat cold to him the other day when I found him up here with you, but I wanted him to understand that you are off limits.”
“Perhaps you should have simply told him.”
He nodded reluctantly. “Perhaps,” he said softly. “I was hoping he would understand without a word spoken. Perhaps I just did not want to verbalize it. A woman has never come between us before.”
“One still hasn’t.”
He cast her a sidelong glance, his grin broadening. “I hope not. I should regret it.”
“Then perhaps you should speak to him as a friend and not a rival. A few words might ease whatever disappointment or animosity he is feeling.”
He nodded slowly. “Wise words. I suppose I should have handled this situation differently from the beginning but it is something I have never experienced before.”
She smiled at him. “I am glad.”
“For what?”
“That you have never experienced a situation like this before.”
He laughed softly, kissing her fingers. They fell silent a moment and he began toying with her digits, inspecting her lovely hand. She had the prettiest hands. Toby watched him as he rubbed the soft skin of her palm, a pensive expression on his face. She knew he was still thinking about Stephen and she, too, hoped no permanent damage would result from them both wanting to court the same woman.
The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection Page 16
