“I am here, kitten,” he threw his arms around her. “I am here. Everything is well.”
Emberley wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly, sobbing into his neck. “Do not leave me,” she begged. “Please do not leave me.”
He soothed her gently. “I will never leave you, you know that.”
“But… but they are going to arrest you.”
He shook his head. “Nay, they are not,” he assured her. “We are simply trying to figure out what to do. I will not be arrested.”
Emberley’s tears were not soothed. Gart picked her up off the floor, wrapped up in the damp linen, and carried her over to the large bed. When he tried to set her down, she refused to let go. In fact, she was holding him so tightly around the neck that she was nearly strangling him. He could feel her trembling in his arms.
“Kitten, let go so I can remove my armor,” he said softly, gently. “I swear I will not leave this room. Loosen your arms, sweet.”
She shook her head and he tried to gently pry her arms free, but the more he would pry, the tighter she would hold him. He finally gave up and sat down on the bed, pulling her onto his lap and simply holding her. It seemed that she needed that most of all at the moment. The armor was cold and undoubtedly jabbing her, but she never said a word. She simply held tight as her sobs faded. Gart did his best to soothe her, saddened that the shouting downstairs had upset her so much.
As he stroked her damp head, calming her, he glanced over and noticed Romney standing in the door of the adjoining chamber. The boy stood there, wide-eyed as he watched Gart and his mother. Having been through as much as his mother had been over the past few days, he was showing great resilience. Emberley was a wreck, yet Romney was not. Gart smiled weakly at the man-child who was growing up before his very eyes.
“Come in, Rom,” he encouraged softly. “Your mother is fine. She is simply exhausted.”
Dressed in soft, cotton hose and a long-sleeved, white cotton tunic that was too big for him, Romney came into the room, eyeing his mother. He finally sat down next to Gart, his young face serious with concern.
“Mama?” he said softly. “Are you still sick?”
“Still?” Gart’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean still sick?”
Emberley was calmer as she lifted her head from Gart’s shoulder, her red-rimmed gaze moving between Romney and Gart.
“Nothing to worry over,” she told Gart softly. “My belly has been upset.”
Gart looked seriously at her. “Should I send for a physic?”
She leaned into his ear. “My belly always aches when I am with child,” she whispered. “Romney does not know that.”
Gart cleared his throat softly, almost nervously, hoping Romney had not heard his mother. He smiled at the boy, perhaps a bit too brightly, which looked out of place on his serious face.
“Your mother is fine,” he told the lad. “It is time for you to go to bed now. We will speak in the morning.”
Romney didn’t move. He continued to sit next to Gart, his big, blue eyes moving between the knight and his mother.
“You killed my father’s men,” he finally said to Gart.
Gart’s gaze was steady on the boy. “I had no choice, Rom. They were taking you and your mother to London to be with your father. I did it to save you both.”
Romney chewed on that statement, the wheels of thought turning in his smart, young brain. “If I had my sword, I could have helped you.”
Gart smiled faintly. “You will be a fine knight someday. I will be proud to serve with you.”
Romney blinked. “You will?”
“Of course.”
“But you serve someone else, that baron who was with my father when you first came to Dunster.”
Gart’s smile grew. “That is Sir David de Lohr, Baron Thornden. His brother is the Earl of Hereford and the earlhappens to be downstairs at this very moment. The earl is a very powerful man. He was friends with King Richard the Lionheart.”
Romney looked interested. “Did he fight the savages in the Holy Land?”
Gart nodded. “Both David and the earl fought in the Holy Land, as did your Uncle Erik and I. That was where we met.”
