Gart stared at the man a moment before looking to Kevin. “Westminster?” he cocked his head, confused. “Those are hisstandards. Do we know any other papal standards that bear those colors?”
Kevin shook his head. “I do not know of any,” he replied. “Westminster is only four or five miles to the west. It must be them.”
Gart’s confusion was growing. “Why would they come here?”
Kevin sat straight in the saddle and reined his charger for the gates. “I shall find out their business.”
Gart watched the man trot away, still relatively unconcerned at the visitors. He took Emberley by the hand and directed her towards the manse.
“I am not entirely sure who this is or what they want, so it would be best if you and Emilie retreated to the house for now,” he told her, a kiss to the temple. “Lady Emilie, I shall inform your husband we have guests.”
The ladies were unconcerned, doing as they were told. “What about Rom?” Emberley asked.
Gart turned in Romney’s direction, emitting a piercing whistle between his teeth and waving the boy over when the child turned to look at him.
“I will collect him,” he told her. “Go inside now and prepare for visitors. I will be in shortly.”
Arm in arm, Emilie and Emberley headed for the manse. Gart watched them go before turning to make sure Romney was on his way. The boy was heading in his general direction even though the pony was trying its hardest not to cooperate.
Gart turned one last time to make sure Emberley and Emilie were near the manse, which they were. They were just entering the door. Returning his attention to Romney as the child directed the stubborn pony towards him, he was startled when Kevin suddenly roared up next to him. Dirt and rocks hit Gart in the legs as Kevin came to abrupt stop.
“It is Westminster,” he said, sounding breathless. “Get Emberley upstairs and lock her someplace safe, Gart. We have trouble.”
Gart’s brow furrowed with concern. “What kind of trouble?”
Kevin’s handsome face was deadly serious, an expression that Gart would never forget as long as he lived.
“Buckland is with him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
At the moment,Gart’s main concern was Emberley. Seated in her borrowed bedchamber with the door bolted and a chair pushed up against it, she had only just stopped sobbing hysterically.
Gart sat on the bed with her in his arms as Emilie forced a cup of wine down her throat, floating with a palmful of crushed chamomile flowers to calm her nerves.
He rocked her gently, her head cradled against his chest, as Emilie forced her to drink every few seconds. Emberley would sob, breathe, and drink. It went on that way for what seemed like hours but the truth was that it was only minutes. It was agonizing.
“Why… why….?” Emberley sobbed.
“Shhhh,” Emilie put the cup to her lips again and forced her to sip the contents. “Quiet, now. Be still and calm yourself.”
As Emilie tended Emberley, she glanced at Gart. The knight was stone-faced as usual but oddly pale. She struggled over her own fear and shock, swept with pity for the pair. She fought back tears herself, unwilling to show weakness because Emberley was so upset. She was focused on calming her friend.
“Drink, sweetheart,” she whispered, holding the cup to Emberley’s lips again, watching the woman drink and sputter. “That’s a good girl. Everything will be all right.”
Emberley calmed to the point where she was no longer sobbing hysterically, but she lay with her head against Gart’s chest, eyes closed and tears streaming down her face. Emilie set the cup down and collected a kerchief from the wardrobe positioned against the wall near the door. She returned to the bed, gently wiping off Emberley’s cheeks. When she looked up, Gart was gazing at her.
She smiled weakly at the man, knowing he was more than likely crazed to go downstairs to find out why Buckland was here with a supporting army from Westminster. But his priority had been Emberley and he would not leave until he was sure she was in a better state. Emilie deeply admired his devotion.
“I will sit with her for a while,” she told him. “I am sure you would like to go downstairs and find out what is transpiring.”
Gart nodded but the second he moved, Emberley exploded into hysterics again.
“Nay!” she shrieked, throwing her arms around him. “Do not leave me. Please do not leave me!”
Gart didn’t want to leave her but he was increasingly eager to find out why Buckland was downstairs. He forced himself to take a stand, putting his big hands on Emberley’s face and forcing her to look at him.
“Kitten,” he said softly, firmly. “You must listen to me. Stop your weeping and listen. Please. It is important.”
