The group took the road to the northwest. The field where the herd grazed was three miles out of town. It was cold and sodden and silent but for the noise from the horses as they made their way along the rocky path. Toby was slightly in front of the rest of them, trying to keep her mind from wandering to Tate. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was watching her. She fidgeted with her reins; anything to keep from looking back at him.
“Do you ever have trouble from raiders?”
Tate’s voice came from slightly behind her. Startled, she glanced over to see that he had reined his horse close to her. He seemed to have a habit of sneaking up on her. She had been concentrating so hard on ignoring him that she hadn’t heard the obvious.
“Sometimes,” she replied. “Mostly border Scots who come to steal our sheep. Father had a long-running problem with the Elliot clan near Jedburgh but he solved that by donating ten head of sheep to them every fall. They have a sizable herd now.”
Tate nodded in understanding, his gaze moving off across the land. Instead of lightening with the rising of the sun, it seemed that everything was growing darker.
“I will apologize for forcing you to endure this weather,” he said. “Hopefully this will not take long and you can return to a warm fire.”
She shook her head. “I love this weather.”
He cast her a long glance. “Why is that?”
“Because there is peace to it. It is soothing. Sometimes with the sun there is such bustle and chaos. Everyone is out and about. With the fog and rain, no one is out. It is quiet and soft.”
“Is your life so harrowed that you find bad weather comforting?”
“I take comfort where I can find it.” The reply had slipped out before she had thought about it. Uncomfortable, she made a rapid attempt to change the subject. “You mentioned that you have not spent much time in your lordship. Do you like traveling so much?’
“I do not,” he said. “I would much rather settle down in one place and live a peaceful life.”
“Your life is not peaceful?”
He shrugged, his big shoulders lifting. “I am a warrior. I reckon that my life is not meant to be peaceful by virtue of my profession. That does not stop me from wishing, however.”
Toby glanced at the knights riding behind them, massive men on massive horses. “And your companions,” she said. “Do they travel everywhere with you?”
“They have for many years.”
“I have never been out of Cartingdon,” Toby said. “Someday I would like to travel to the places that you have perhaps been.”
“Where would you go?”
She thought a moment, visions of exotic cities in far off lands filling her mind. Some days, when her father drank himself into oblivion and her mother was out of control, she would sit and dream about being somewhere else. It was a game she sometimes played to keep her sanity.
“I would like to see Paris someday. But I have a stronger desire to see Rome.”
“I have been to Paris many times but never Rome.”
“If you ever go, will you come back and tell me about it?”
There was something wistful in her tone that made Tate take a closer look at her. “Do you think you will never go? Perhaps your husband shall take you someday. Surely he would do this for you.”
She gave him an ironic smirk. “I thought I clearly established that I will never marry. If I go, I shall have to go alone.”
“Unacceptable. If it comes to that, I shall take you myself.”
She laughed, a gesture that lit up the sky. “My lord, although your offer is most gracious, I will not hold you to it. You could barely stand to be near me for an evening. How on earth could you stand it for months on end?”
Tate was completely entranced by her smile; it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “If you laugh like that more often, I should easily stand it.”
His tone was quiet, sincere. It made Toby’s heart leap. She looked at him, amazed he would say such a thing, uncertain why he would. Not knowing how to respond, her cheeks burned brightly. It was a delicious spot of color amongst the gray of the morning mist, not lost on Tate.
“Is Wales like this?” she asked.
The change in subject was blindingly swift. Tate nearly had his head ripped off at the rapidity of it and he had to turn away lest she see him grin. “Beg pardon?”
