He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Do not ask me to leave again because I will not.”
Her weak smile turned genuine. “Nay,” she chuckled softly. “I was not going to ask you to leave. I was going to ask you to take the children to Gerta. I wish to sleep and I cannot do that if they are here.”
Gart looked around. “Is this not their room?” he asked. “Where is your chamber? I will take you there. You will be more comfortable.”
“Perhaps later,” she said softly. “Right now, I do not want to move.”
He understood. There had been times in his life when he had been so badly thrashed that he didn’t want to move, either. Nodding his head, he moved away from the bed and went to the lancet window, peering down at the bailey below.
The fog from the early morning had lifted and the day was dawning sunny. Everything smelled crisp and clean. He could see part of the bailey from where he stood, enough to see a portion of the gatehouse and the fact that Julian’s escort to London was now congregated near the big oak and iron gates.
Men and servants were milling about, mounting horses and securing provisions, and he watched for quite some time until Julian came into view. He caught a glimpse of the man as he slipped out the front gates on his big, white horse, followed by several men-at-arms bearing the colors of Buckland. All were well-armed and seasoned. Following the horses were two wagons loaded down with provisions and trunks.
Gart could see a portion of the road outside of the walls and he watched as Baron Buckland’s party faded into the horizon. Only then did he feel genuinely relieved that the man had departed, jolted from his position near the window when someone pounded on the chamber door. He moved to the panel, lifting the iron latch as Romney barged in. The young lad looked right at Gart.
“He is gone now,” he assured him. “He will not come back for a long time. Mother will be well now.”
Gart looked over at the bed where Emberley had fallen asleep beside her thumb-sucking daughter. Orin and Brendt were still on the bed, whispering between them, pointing at Emberley’s head. Every once in a while they would grab at Lacy’s feet and she would kick at them and whine. Now that Julian was gone, their source of terror, the relief was palpable. The children were acting like children, care-free, and Emberley was fast asleep. The tension, the terror, was over for now.
“Aye, she will,” he told the boy. “She will be fine.”
He moved over to the bed. Watching Emberley sleep stirred something deep inside him, an indefinable warmth that he tried to chase away but couldn’t. He realized that whatever he was starting to feel wasn’t healthy or normal, at least not for him, but the feelings were so strong that he couldn’t seem to fight them off. They were wrong and he knew it, but he didn’t particularly care.
He put his hand on Romney’s shoulder. “Come along,” he said quietly. “I told your mother I would take you and your siblings to Gerta. Where is she?”
Romney shrugged. “In the hall, I think. She was there the last time I saw her.”
“Then let us go so that your mother may sleep uninterrupted.”
He motioned Orin and Brendt off the bed, but Brendt got tangled in the coverlet, so he lifted the boy off and unwound his feet. Lacy, seeing that her brothers were leaving, suddenly stood up on the mattress and whined, lifting her arms to be picked up. Gart looked at the little girl, sweet like a little cherub, and waited for Romney to take her, but the oldest brother was already over by the door with his two younger brothers. Gart hesitantly reached out and picked the baby up, whereupon she promptlywrapped her fat, little arms around his neck and put a slobbery mouth on his cheek.
Gart didn’t know what else to do but carry her over to the door. Little Lacy delivered a couple of very wet kisses to his rough cheek before hugging him tightly, her little face against his. Gart’s momentary surprise, and perhaps disgust at the tongue-to-his-cheek kiss, was abated as Lacy hugged him. There was something inherently sweet and settling about the toddler in his arms, a gentle slice of life he had never before experienced. His intention to put her down once they reached the door changed. He hugged her back, smiling weakly when Romney and the other boys pointed at him and laughed.
“Mother told you not to get too close,” Romney taunted. “She will kiss you until your whole face is wet.”
Gart lifted an eyebrow as Lacy squeezed him enthusiastically. “Does she do this with everyone? Even strangers?”
Romney shrugged as they headed out the door. “Almost everyone,” he said. “But she usually wants to be put down by now. She likes you.”
As if to punctuate the statement, Lacy began to deliver open-mouth kisses against his jaw. She was babbling baby-talk the entire time, happy and chatty. Gart suffered through the baby’s wet kisses in spite of everything, thinking it was rather sweet. Mildly repulsive, but sweet.
Romney had been correct. By the time they found Gerta in the great hall, Gart’s entire face was wet with baby kisses.
CHAPTER FIVE
It had beentwo days since Julian’s departure to London. David de Lohr had also departed during that time, heading back to Denstroude Castle to make arrangements for providing manpower to Baron Buckland for the conflict in France.
As soon as both barons departed, things at Dunster seemed to settle down and the entire castle moved back into their routine. Since the baron was gone from the castle more than he was in residence, the castle seemed to function much better without his presence. When he was away, Dunster was a lovely place of happiness and freedom, but when he was home, it turned into a place of uncertainty and fear.
Gart learned this in the three days he had spent at the castle. Emberley had slept in Romney’s bed for two straight days, having only awoken twice to eat something and then falling back asleep again. Gart had spent most of his time sitting next to her, watching her sleep, reliving memories of the lovely young girl who grew up into a strikingly gorgeous woman.
He also relived memories of Erik, wondering what the man would be doing at this time had he lived. His father was a wealthy baron and Erik would have undoubtedly inherited the barony, but Gart wondered if Erik would have married and had a family. He wondered what course the man’s life might have taken had it not been so tragically cut short.
On the fourth day of his arrival at Dunster, Gart was up before dawn, having slept in de Lohr’s vacated chamber in the keep. He heard the children rise on the floor above him and their little feet as they scattered across the floor. Rising at the sounds of activity, he went to the basin of cold, stale water from the night before and went through his morning routine of shaving his face and head.
Although he had a full head of hair when he allowed it to grow, he found it more convenient and cleaner to simply shave himself almost bald. With his high cheekbones and intense green eyes, men seemed to be more frightened of him that way. He liked it.
This morning, he wasn’t thinking about frightening men. He was thinking about Emberley and he looked at himself in the polished bronze mirror, trying to figure out exactly what he was feeling towards her. Whatever it was, he knew it was foolish, but it was growing stronger by the day, both frightening him and thrilling him. If he were a smart man, he would leave Dunster and return home as quickly as possible. But he just couldn’t seem to force himself to do it.
