Mortimer almost shouted at de Roche again to take St. Héver away, but a better thought occurred to him. When Suffolk staggered to his feet again and tried to take another charge at Kenneth, Roger motioned to a couple of his men to see the earl from the hall. As de Ufford was half-carried, half-escorted away, Mortimer turned back to Toby. His anger was beginning to coolas he saw a way to turn the situation to his advantage. He was, if nothing else, an opportunist.
“Very well, my lady,” he said calmly, after some deliberation. “I will, in fact, take you up on your offer. Your compliance will buy St. Héver’s life.”
Toby wasn’t stupid; she knew that Mortimer would extract a high price from her though she was not sure, exactly, what it would be. She was a little too unworldly to imagine how high the price could soar. In her mind, perhaps it would be supping with him nightly or entertaining him all day, every day. Perhaps it would be something distasteful but not horrific. She could not have been more wrong.
“I will comply,” she agreed. “What are your terms?”
Mortimer took a step closer until he was literally breathing in her face. His dark eyes were deep and intense as he gazed into her almond-shaped eyes.
“One night with you,” he growled seductively. “One night with you and I will release St. Héver. He will be free to go.”
Toby stared at him, her eyes widening as she realized what he meant. She could hardly believe her ears and horror such as she had never known filled her breast. The mere thought made her want to vomit. She took a step back from him, her eyes bulging with disgust.
“Are you mad?” she hissed. “I am a married woman.”
Mortimer cocked an eyebrow before turning to de Roche again. “Take St. Héver to the vault,” he commanded. “He meets his death on the morrow.”
“Death?” Toby shrieked. “You cannot kill him!”
“He struck the Earl of Suffolk.”
“So did I. You must kill me also if that is your justice.”
Mortimer’s jaw flexed, grabbing her by the arm and whipping her against him. “One night and your knight goes free,” he snarled. “Refuse and he dies. Those are the terms.”
Toby was beyond horrified; she couldn’t even imagine what type of man would make such a bargain. Her breathing began to come in heavy pants as she stared at him, finally turning to look at Kenneth. The knight was gazing steadily at her, his ice-blue eyes intense.
“The price is far too high, my lady,” Kenneth told her emotionlessly. “I am not afraid to meet my death.”
De Roche threw out a fist and struck him in the mouth to silence him. Kenneth’s head snapped sideways but he did not lose his balance or his tense expression. Toby watched blood trickle from the corner of his mouth before turning back to Mortimer.
He was looking at her rather confidently, as if he knew he had her cornered. Toby met his stare, realizing that she could only make one choice. She could not let Kenneth die no matter what the terms of the bargain. She would therefore agree to the terms but there was no way she planned to go through with them. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get around it, but she would think of something. She had to; too much was at stake.
“Very well,” she almost choked on her words. “Your terms are accepted. But you will turn Sir Kenneth loose this very instant and I will watch him ride from this place. I would make sure he is well away before complying.”
“Nay,” Kenneth said through clenched teeth. “You will not do this.”
Toby shushed him with a harsh hand gesture and he stilled immediately. Her eyes remained on Mortimer. “Do you accept my terms?”
Roger smiled victoriously. “Of course, my lady,” he said, turning back to de Roche in a much more congenial fashion. “Retrieve St. Héver’s mount and armor. And be quick about it; I am sure the man is eager to return to de Lara.”
De Roche simply nodded his head and quit the hall, leaving Kenneth standing alone in stunned silence. Toby couldn’t even look at him. As quickly as the storm had risen, it had died leaving devastation in its wake.
“Toby…,” Kenneth whispered painfully.
She shut him off with a hand gesture. “Not a word, Kenneth.”
“Youcannotdo this.”
She spun to him, her eyes brimming. “And you cannot die.”
For the first time since she had known the stone-faced knight, his face reflected something of his agony. The ice-blue eyes were glimmering with sorrow.
“I would rather die than see you do this.”
“Your death would not prevent it in the long run. You know this. Eventually he will take what he wants.”
Kenneth knew she was correct, knowing further argument would be futile. But the thought of her sacrifice was killing him; he could only imagine how Tate would react, how it would destroy the man. Tate had gone through too much destruction in his life and had lived to tell the tale, but something like this would likely topple him. Trouble was, Kenneth could not think of a way to stop it. For all of his knightly experience and cunning, he could not think of a way out of this unless he planned to throttle Mortimer at this very moment. He was close enough to do it but he wasn’t sure he could complete the task before a dozen broadswords ended his life.
