“How often do you know I laugh? You have known me for less than a day.”
“I can see it in your expression. It is as if your entire face is surprised to show a measure of delight.”
She looked away peevishly, but it was in jest. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Is your life so bad that you have no reason to laugh?”
“The sheep should be up this road about a mile and a half. If we pick up the pace, we will be there in well less than an hour.”
“I do not want to pick up the pace and neither do you.”
“I do not?”
“Nay. But you do want to answer my question.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “I see a pattern in you. Last night, you bullied me about marriage. Today, it is laughter. You talk more than any man I have ever met.”
“Not really.”
The conversation had been flowing easily until that moment. Suddenly, Tate seemed to quiet and Toby found herself sorry she had shut him up. She truly hadn’t meant to; she had been enjoying the conversation very much. With every step the horses took, the silence grew more and more deafening.
“I smile as much as I am able, I suppose,” she finally said. “It seems as if there is not much reason to at times. I rise in the morning and take care of my invalid mother before I go and assist my father in conducting business with his farm. My father rises early in the morning and is usually drunk by noon and cares little for the daily operations of our farm. He did, once,but no longer. By the time I am finished handling his affairs, I must tend my mother again and my younger sister and see to the management of Forestburn. If my manner seems appalling to you at times, it is perhaps because it has to be. There is no one but me to see to the care of my family and this business my father has worked so hard to achieve. I am strong because I have to be.”
By the time she had finished, Tate was gazing at her intently. The mist had turned to freezing rain, dripping off of his dark lashes. He spurred his charger up a few paces until he was next to her, looking down at her from a gray warhorse that was a head taller than her mount.
“If I offended you with my comments on your demeanor, then I am truly sorry,” he said quietly. “I can see now that my observations were incorrect.”
“Not necessarily. I can be quite aggressive at times.”
“It seems to me that you have had much responsibility laid upon you and instead of allowing it to crush you, you became strong with it. I would not call that aggressive. I would call that survival.”
She was coming to feel foolish for telling him everything about her when they hardly knew each other. Moreover, the man was her liege, not a peer, and the realization made her feel increasingly awkward. But she didn’t have any friends to speak of, at least no one she could confide in, and the words had just tumbled out. There was far too much familiarity with Tate. Self-preservation swept her when she realized his last statement sounded too much like pity.
“Forgive me for explaining too much,” she sounded crisp. “I was not complaining and my apologies if I sounded as such. My life is truly nothing to be sorry for. We are better off than most people.”
Where Tate had seen vulnerability moments earlier, it was swiftly replaced by the guarded woman he had come to associate her with. He liked the vulnerability much better.
“I never thought you were complaining, mistress. You were simply answering my question.”
He didn’t think she would reply to his statement and he was correct. She pointed a gloved hand down the road.
“The village of Lorbottle is north of here,” she said. “I can have the sheep brought to market there, as they have a rather large livestock grounds. It is popular with the border Scots.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Where shall I send the money?”
“That depends. How long do you think it will take to sell everything?”
“Within a day with the proper buyer. I would say at this time of year, we will find the proper buyer within a week. This is the middle of the season, and most sheep are not shorn until spring.”
“Then send the money to Harbottle Castle. I have other business to conduct in the region and will expect it there.”
“As you say, my lord.”
He watched her from the corner of his eye, wanting to say something more to her but not sure he should. He hardly knew the woman, yet he felt an inexplicable draw towards her. He recalled yesterday how he had thought her beautiful, but lacking in other fine qualities. After their conversation today, he wasn’t so sure that was true. She had great strength of character and a sharp sense of humor. But she was also too stubborn for her own good. The woman was a paradox.
They drew near the field where the sheep were kept, a vast foggy land with a hint of green where the grass lay. Toby reined her horse to a stop along the stone wall that fenced in the herd.
