Toby looked around, at de Roche several paces up ahead, at Mortimer and his retainers far to the front, before turning backto Kenneth. “Do you think Tate knows where we are?” she asked softly.
Kenneth nodded thoughtfully. “He knows where we are headed. We know that Mortimer has sent him a missive to that effect.”
“Will he be waiting for us at Wigmore Castle?”
“He will do what is necessary and right, my lady.”
It wasn’t much of an answer. She didn’t realize until later that Kenneth had been purposely ambiguous in case anyone was close enough to hear his answer. Toby, however, was left feeling depressed and uncertain.
“What will happen to us once we get to Wigmore?” she asked.
Kenneth shook his head. “I honestly do not know.”
“Are they going to throw me in the vault?”
“I would sincerely doubt it.”
“Are they going to throwyouin the vault?”
“That is a possibility.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly?”
He could see that he had frightened her. He didn’t want to tell her what he really thought, but upon reflection, it was better if he did so she was prepared. He did not want her to be startled when, and if, the situation took a distressing turn.
“It is a possibility but I doubt it,” he lowered his voice. “But you must prepare yourself for the possibility that I will no longer be allowed to shadow you. Since your health is returning, I am not sure Mortimer would see any need for me to remain with you.”
He had only succeeded in frightening her more. “Oh, Kenneth,” she gasped. “He would not… they would not kill you, would they?”
He shook his head. “Nothing so drastic, I think. But he could very well send me elsewhere as a hostage.”
Her eyes welled. “You cannot leave me,” she whispered. “I will not allow it.”
He sought to soothe her. “No need to fret. Nothing will happen for quite some time yet.”
She sniffled, wiping her nose that was red with the cold. De Roche turned around at that point, noticed her distressed expression, and reined his horse back towards the wagon.
The man was big and ugly. Everything about him bled of evil. His muddy gaze moved between Toby and Kenneth as flakes of snow adhered themselves to the dirty beard exposed on his face.
“Is something amiss, Lady de Lara?” he asked. “Do you require something?”
Toby didn’t like the man; that much was plain. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not from you.”
De Roche smiled, his stained teeth ugly behind his thick lips. “Spoken like a true de Lara. Pride is never in short supply.”
Toby looked away from him, having no desire to engage in any conversation. But de Roche wasn’t finished with her yet; he’d not had much contact with the lady for the fact that she had been recuperating from cracked ribs. This was, in fact, the first time he’d been near her since his return from chasing her husband from Harbottle and he remembered what an exquisite woman she was from the day he had seen her at Forestburn. Aye, he remembered her well; he hadn’t known she was de Lara’s wife at the time, which was a pity. He might have paid more attention to her but he had been more concerned with capturing the young king at the time. Lady de Lara had prevented him from doing so and he never forgot it. He was a man with a grudge.
“Tell me something, St. Héver,” he said casually, his gaze moving over their snowy and cold surroundings. “Do you stay so close to the lady because it is your intention to claim de Lara’s widow? I can hardly blame you; she is a pretty little thing.”
Toby’s head snapped to the knight, her eyes wide. Before she could work up a righteous explosion, Kenneth reached out to touch her arm. She looked at him, eyes welling and accusing, but he shook his head at her calmly. She understood his silent implication and she bit her lip, lowering her head.
“I stay close to the lady to protect her from fools like you,” Kenneth said steadily. “And as much as you would like to rattle her, you and I both know that Tate is alive and well. Do not let your bitterness show because the man has once again evaded you. He toys with you as a cat toys with a mouse.”
De Roche turned towards Kenneth with a baleful eye. “I would not be so confident that de Lara is still alive. He was crossing a bridge when I saw it collapse. He fell into the frozen river and was swept away as I watched.”
Kenneth waited for Toby to respond but, to her credit, she kept her head lowered. The knight knew that de Roche was trying to upset her and that fueled very uncharacteristic anger within him. His jaw ticked faintly.
“You should hear how we laugh at you, Hamlin,” Kenneth’s voice was seductive, gritty. “You have provided us hours of entertainment.”
