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 wasnot 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 verylate. 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?”
