Roger stared at her, already knowing the answer but struck to hear it from her lips. He could not have a more valuable captive if Edward himself was lying in front of him.
“So the rumor was true,” he murmured. “Dragonblade’s wife in the flesh.”
Toby didn’t reply; her eyes were still closed as if to ignore him. Roger’s gaze lingered on her a moment before he spoke louder. “Where is your husband, my lady?”
She shook her head weakly. “I do not know. Hopefully he is well away from you.”
“So he would leave his wife alone to suffer? That does not speak well for your husband.”
Her eyes opened, the hazel orbs flashing. “You will not speak ill of him. He has a duty to Edward and, God willing, he is doing his duty.”
Roger regarded her a moment, inspecting the lines of her lovely face, seeing great strength in her. He had been told how she led a dozen of his men on a wild goose chase and, frankly, expected no less from de Lara’s wife. He actually found it amusing. Rising to his feet, he suddenly disappeared from the tent.
Toby continued to lay still, closing her eyes and feeling the warm tears trickle down her cheeks. She regretted that she told him her identity and was glad she had all in the same breath. Perhaps now he would send someone to help her. Either that or he would send someone to kill her. Lying still and pale upon the pallet, she awaited whatever sentence Mortimer was to bring upon her. She was at his mercy.
She did not have long to wait. She was almost asleep again when she heard the tent flap pull back and bodies enter the shelter. She was in so much pain that she did not bother looking.
“Here is your lady,” she heard Roger say. “Her story is the same as yours. And because you have been truthful with me, I will permit you to stay with her for now. But have no doubt that you and I shall have another talk very soon.”
Toby heard his words, struggling to open her eyes. Next she realized, a big hand was on her forehead and she opened her eyes only to look up into a familiar, well-beaten face.
Kenneth was gazing down at her, looking as if he had been beaten within an inch of his life. One eye was grossly swollen and his lip was split and bloodied. One look at him and Toby burst into soft sobs.
“Oh, Sir Kenneth,” she wept. “What have they done to you?”
He shushed her softly. “It looks far worse than it is, my lady,” he said quietly. “The bigger question is what have they done to you? I am told that you are injured.”
Her eyes closed again as if to ward off the throbbing pain in her torso. “Someone knocked me off the horse,” she murmured, tears spilling down her temples. “I think I broke something when I fell.”
Kenneth’s jaw ticked as his gaze moved down her torso. “Where does it hurt?”
“My ribs.”
“A sharp pain?”
“Very sharp.”
He grunted. “You probably broke a few. Can you breathe well enough?”
“It hurts if I take a deep breath but for the most part, I can breathe.”
“Good,” he moved to peel her cloak away. “Hopefully nothing has been punctured. Although I am not Stephen, I have tended my share of wounds. Would you allow me examine you?”
She nodded faintly and he proceeded to pull the heavy woolen cloak away. A simple woolen surcoat and heavy linen shift lay beneath but he did not remove them; instead, he began to gently push on her torso until he reached a tender area and she gasped.
“I am sorry,” he said sincerely. “But I must see if I can feel the bones moving.”
She nodded, eyes closed, and turned her head as far away from him as it would go. Kenneth pushed a few times on the area in question, listening to her groan softly, knowing she was enduring excruciating pain. He’d had a few cracked ribs himself and knew how painful it could be. Finally, he removed his hands.
“Well,” he said softly. “I do not believe anything has separated. I can feel the fractures but the bones are still intact. You will be all right once they heal.”
Toby did nothing more but nod; she was exhausted and in extreme pain. She could feel Kenneth as he gently wrapped her back up in her cloak. Then he sat beside her in silence because she could feel the heat from his enormous body. For the longest time, neither one of them moved. They lingered in dim, uncertain silence.
“What are you doing here?” she finally asked, opening her eyes and turning to look at him. “Why did you not go with Tate?”
Kenneth cocked an eyebrow at her. “Because someone had to come after you to protect you from the hordes of Mortimer’s men bent on capturing you,” he said. Then he held up a finger. “And just so you and I are perfectly clear, if you do anything like that ever again, I will blister your backside, husband or no husband.”
He wasn’t serious and she knew it. Unwinding a hand from the cloak, she reached out and grasped his thick fingers. It was comforting. Kenneth, the man made of stone, squeezed her hand tightly.
