He shook his head, forcing himself to soften. Having spent the past day and night in warfare mode, it was difficult to separate the man from the professional warrior.
“You have done nothing, mistress, I assure you,” he said, his tone more settled. “I did not mean to suggest that you had. It is simply that business has arisen that requires my presence elsewhere. I have not time to wait for the money from the herd your father has pledged to me.”
“Did you not find the sheep?”
“I did not look for them.”
“Did you at least find the men you were searching for?”
“I found them.”
He didn’t say more than that and Toby didn’t press him. He obviously did not wish to speak of it and it truthfully wasn’t any of her concern. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so awful. Disappointment filled her and she struggled to graciously bidhim farewell. It was horrible to realize that she did not want him to go.
“I would wish you a good journey, then, and good fortune wherever you may go,” she said as sincerely as she could. “Should you ever go to Rome, perhaps you will honor me with the tale of your adventure someday.”
He just looked at her, his expression softening, the dark eyes full of something she did not understand. Much to her surprise, he reached out and took her hand and led her over to the chair near the window. He indicated for her to sit and she did so, her heart thumping loudly against her ribs. There was no way with his bulk that he could sit, so he took a knee beside her to bring himself to her level. Toby could not help but notice that he never let go of her hand the entire time. The thrill of it caused her cheeks to flush warm and warmer still until she could hardly breathe.
“There is much I wish I could tell you, mistress, but alas I cannot,” he said after a moment’s deliberation. “Suffice it to say that I do not want to go but I must. It is safer for you and your family if I do.”
“Safer?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. You need not be involved in matters that do not concern you.”
She gazed at him, long and hard. The more she looked upon him, the more handsome he seemed to become. His face was so perfectly formed that it was difficult to find any flaw with it. She became so upswept in his male beauty that she nearly forgot her train of thought.
“May I ask you something?” she asked.
“You may.”
“Are you running from someone?”
He almost looked amused. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because when you first came to the church in Cartingdon, you were wearing heavy cloaks to conceal your identity. You did not want anyone to notice you.”
His gaze gave her a hint of what he might be thinking. “You are correct in that assumption, but that is merely prudence. Knights that go about announcing themselves are inviting trouble. I would rather not invite it. I have enough.”
“Then you are not running?”
“Nay, mistress. I do not run from anything.”
“I did not mean to suggest that you do.”
He smiled at her, releasing her hand so that he could remove his gauntlets. “I know you did not.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture of fatigue, before reclaiming her fingers, this time flesh against flesh. Instantly, his brow furrowed. “Good Christ, your hand is searing.”
Before Toby could reply, he put a hand to her forehead. “You are burning with fever. Did you not realize this?”
She hadn’t, really. All she knew was that she hadn’t felt very well. “I have not felt my best this morning,” she admitted.
Tate put a hand on her cheek for good measure. It was soft, like baby’s skin, and was quite warm. Inadvertently, he touched the bandage on her wrist and his focus was drawn to it.
“What is this?” he demanded.
He was unwrapping it before she could answer. “It… it was an accident,” she stammered.
He ripped away the linen and was faced with the four festering crescent-shaped incisions. He stared at them a moment, and his manner cooled dramatically.
“Who did this to you?”
