“According to my liege, your husband has commandeered four hundred of de Lohr’s men to support his efforts for the queen in France,” he said. “I am told that I will be heading to France at the head of this contingent in three or four weeks. I was hoping you would allow me to stay here and keep you company until that time. I have not seen you in twelve years and I would like to get reacquainted with my best friend’s sister from long ago. Would that be acceptable?”
Emberley gazed steadily at him, feeling joy at his request that she couldn’t begin to describe. She’d spent eight years with Julian in a hellish existence and the thought of kind, male attention was incredibly inviting. But she just as quickly knew that allowing him to stay might not be a wise decision in more ways than one. Not only would Julian become furious if he ever found out, but given the way she felt about Gart when she looked at him… nay, it would not be wise at all. Disappointment flooded her and she averted her gaze.
“I am not sure…,” she started and then regrouped. “Surely we hold no particular interest for you. We live very ordinary lives, without excitement. You would become grossly bored within a week.”
He gave her a half-grin. “With these children?” he looked to the group of them; two on the bed and two going through his bags. “You underestimate their entertainment value. I wouldlike to get the chance to know Erik’s nephews. Will you please allow me this privilege?”
“But….”
“I have nowhere else to go, Emberley.”
She cocked her head, her expression somewhat curious. “Do you not have a home?”
He shook his head. “Only Denstroude Castle or Bellham Place in London, neither of which are my home. They are de Lohr’s homes.”
“But your father’s brother is William de Fortibus, the Earl of Albemarle,” she pointed out. “Surely your father….”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “If you remember anything about me, then you will also remember that my father and his brother had a disagreement long ago that severed all ties between them,” he reminded her. “That is why my father changed his name from de Fortibus to Forbes. My father has been dead and buried for quite some time in the dark soil of Shropshire and left nothing for his only son.”
She grew serious as the children around her began to play more loudly. Her gaze upon him was intense. “I remember,” she murmured. “But it does not seem right, Gart. You are a great knight from a great family. Your uncle is an earl. Surely he is proud of his nephew and has provided for you.”
His murky green eyes were riveted to her, ignoring the fact that Romney and Orin had emptied all three of his bags and were happily looking for valuables.
“The only thing my uncle ever did was ensure I fostered in a prestigious house,” he said quietly. “I am sure you do not remember all of my past, as it was long ago when you and I last knew each other, but I have had to fight for everything I have accumulated. Fortunately, serving de Lohr has allowed me to build my fortune and someday, I will have a home of my own. But not yet.”
Emberley watched his handsome face, sensing no distress and only determination. She shook her head sadly.
“It is not right that you should have to fight for everything when birthright alone should have dictated some manner of secure future,” she sighed after a moment. “Perhaps you can marry well and that will seal your status. There must be a worthy bride for you somewhere.”
He just looked at her, thinking of a thousand different replies and not one of them was appropriate. He couldn’t say what he was thinking.I should have married you. After a moment, he smiled weakly.
“Perhaps.” was all he would say. “Meanwhile, will you allow me to remain as your guest until I am called back to battle?”
Her expression grew serious. “I do not like the sound of that,” she muttered, hardly noticing when Brendt climbed off the bed with the tunic over his head and began running around with Lacy toddling after him. “The last time I saw someone off to battle, he did not return. I should not like it if you did not return.”
He smiled at her. “I would not want to disappoint you. May I stay, then?”
Against her better judgment, she reluctantly nodded. “Very well,” she said softy. “I would like that.”
His smile broadened in a warm gesture but he was cut short from replying when Brendt, still with the tunic over his head and running from his sister, bashed into his legs. He reached down to steady the boy.
“Orin?” he called over his shoulder. “Where is my tunic? Have you forgotten? And stop robbing my bags.”
Orin popped up from the pile on the floor with a dark blue garment in his hand, running it over to Gart. Gart took the tunic, pulling it over his head as he turned to Romney and Orin and the complete mess they had made out of his saddlebags.
He sighed heavily at the sight, resting his giant fists on his hips as he surveyed the situation. Everything was all over the place.
“You two have made a mockery out of my possessions,” he grumbled. “Start repacking those bags and if it is not neatly done, I will make you repack them again until you get it right.”
Romney and Orin may have thought it great fun to go through Gart’s possessions but they did not think it fun to repack everything. They scowled and made faces but did as they were told, trying to figure out where to start in the mess they had made. They looked a little lost. Gart pointed to the pile of tunics.
“Start there,” he told them. “Roll them up neatly and pack them tightly together.”
Romney sighed with displeasure and started to do what he was told but Gart suddenly grabbed the boy’s arm and began frisking him. As Romney grumbled and tried to pull away, Gart began pulling all sorts of valuables out of Romney’s pockets.
“My purse,” he pulled out a heavy leather pouch from the front of Romney’s tunic and tossed it into his bags. “What else of mine have you stolen?”
As Emberley stood by, mortified, Gart removed two small daggers, a pouch containing flint and stone, a couple of other small pouches, one of which contained white willow powder for the terrible headaches that Gart was prone to, and two spoons. He patted the boy down until he was sure there was nothing else of his that the boy had stolen before letting him go.
