They walked for several more paces before she spoke again. “Now?”
“I believe so.”
Her head came up once more. “Then put me down.”
He set her to her feet and she noticed immediately that her pale surcoat was in danger of getting mud all over it. She froze where he had set her.
“Pick me up!” she commanded.
Dutifully, Kenneth picked her up again and began his trek over to the stables. Toby looked around the ward at the remnants of the queen’s entourage; a carriage, a few men, and a lot of horses. It was a big gathering.
“Now,” she looked at Kenneth. “Would you care to tell me what this is all about?”
He remained silent as they entered the stable yards. “Can I put you down yet? She looked at the soupy, muddy ground. “Nay,” she told him. “You will have to carry me so my skirt willnot become soiled. Answer my question; why did you bring me out here?”
Kenneth veered into the stables. It was cold and dark inside, although it was dry. It smelled strongly of horses and hay and he set her to her feet.
“I was ordered to bring you here,” he told her as they faced each other in the dim stable light.
She scowled at him. “Who on earth ordered you to bring me out here?” she demanded, rubbing at her arms. “I am cold. The least you can do is go and get my cloak if you are going to make me wait outside.”
“You will survive. That dress is warm enough.”
She growled. “Go get my cloak, I say. And bring me some warmed wine as well. I shall catch my death of chill out here and it will be your fault.”
“Good lord; have you been ordering Kenneth about like that all along?”
It was a familiar voice that didn’t register with Toby right away. Tate abruptly swung around the corner and into the stalls, almost plowing into his wife because she was standing so close to the door. Toby screamed at the suddenness of his appearance, tripping over her own feet. She would have fallen had Tate not reached out to grab her. She screamed again, startled by his grip, startled by the face, but only for a moment; when she realized her husband was standing before her, she threw her arms around his neck so tightly that she hit him in the throat with her rush.
Tate coughed a joyous cough from his bruised Adam’s apple as he wrapped his mailed arms around Toby tightly enough to crush her.
“My God,” Toby couldn’t catch her breath. “My God, my God,my God!”
She seemed incapable of saying anything else at the moment. Tate laughed softly, his face in her hair, feeling tears sting his eyes. He was so emotional he could hardly control it. He took a moment to breath in her scent; she smelled like roses. Then the kisses started and he kissed her face furiously, listening to her gasp with delight.
“What…,” she asked, interrupted when he kissed her soft mouth, “are you doing here? How did you get here?”
He didn’t want to answer any foolish questions at the moment; he just wanted to taste her, hold her, and convince himself that she was real. His hands moved to cup her face, swallowing up her entire head with his enormous grip. He just stared at her, drinking her in.
“Are you well, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice trembling. “The missive I received from Mortimer said that you had been injured.”
There were tears in Toby’s eyes as she gazed back at him. “I fell off the horse and broke three ribs,” she told him. “But I am as good as new.”
He sighed heavily, one hand moving to touch her torso as if to convince himself that she was indeed in one piece. It brought him more relief than he could have imagined.
“Thank God,” he murmured. Then he took her by the arms and looked her in the eye. “You foolish woman; you could have been killed with what you did. What in the world possessed you to lure those soldiers out of Harbottle?”
The tears in her eyes spilled over. “I could not let them find you. I was terrified they were going to kill you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead, her temple, listening to her sniffle. “It was very brave of you but very foolish. I was so… well, it does not matter. All that matters is that you are well. And Mortimer… he has been a respectful to you? He has not harmed or touched you?”
She wiped at her eyes. “Not yet,” she didn’t know why she suddenly felt so weak and frightened. “But he has been using Kenneth to ensure my behavior. I refused to do his bidding once and he beat Kenneth. He has not done it again so far, but he has threatened.”
Tate tore his eyes off her long enough to look at St. Héver; the big blond knight’s gaze was steady, as if there was nothing amiss. But Tate knew Kenneth well enough to know that the man would never react or complain about any personal offense against him.
“Is this true?” he asked Kenneth, pulling Toby tightly against him once more.
Kenneth cleared his throat softly, glancing at Toby before replying. “It was not that bad,” he said, wanting the focus off of him. “He did, however, make a pact with your wife shortly before your arrival. He told Lady de Lara that he would kill me if she did not spend one night with him in the conjugal sense.”
