The flowers were mashed into a paste against softened linen, allowing the juices from the petals to seep into the material. Toby packed some of the mashed petals against the red gashes and then wrapped the remaining petals and linen tightly around them. She was securing the edges of the linen so that the bandage would stay firm when she heard horses at a distance. Her weariness fled for the moment as she bolted to the window.
Tate had returned and he had a horde of men with him. Toby tried to play ignorant to the fact that her heart had leapt at the sounds of him returning. She almost ran for the door but stopped herself. In fact, it was best if she went back to her accounting and pretended she hadn’t heard the horses at all. Moving for the desk, she sat calmly and resumed her bookkeeping with the exception of not truly looking at the count before her. She looked at the parchment but saw nothing. Her mind, vision and hearing were attuned to the entry door in the hall.
Her wait was a long, excruciating one. It took forever for the door to finally creak open. She had almost broken her quill with nervous fingers. She struggled to concentrate on her count as bootfalls crossed the hall, paused, and then moved for the solar. Only then did she very casually look up.
Tate was dressed to the hilt in armor and weapons. He looked every inch the feared warrior of the Dragonblade epithet. But he also looked weary, as if he had been up all night. His storm cloud eyes fixed on her.
“Mistress,” he sounded weary, too.
She rose from her chair, feeling strangely light-headed. “My lord,” she returned his salutation. “I hope all went well.”
“It did not, but that should not concern you. Suffice it to say that your father is released from his pledge of the herd for young Edward’s cause.”
“I do not understand. Is something wrong?”
“I am returning to London and do not have time to wait for the collection.”
His manner was clipped. Toby took a step in his direction, concerned that something was gravely amiss. “My lord, if we have done something to offend you, then I….”
He shook his head, forcing himself to soften. Having spent the past day and night in warfare mode, it was difficult to separate the man from the professional warrior.
“You have done nothing, mistress, I assure you,” he said, his tone more settled. “I did not mean to suggest that you had. It is simply that business has arisen that requires my presence elsewhere. I have not time to wait for the money from the herd your father has pledged to me.”
“Did you not find the sheep?”
“I did not look for them.”
“Did you at least find the men you were searching for?”
“I found them.”
He didn’t say more than that and Toby didn’t press him. He obviously did not wish to speak of it and it truthfully wasn’t any of her concern. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so awful. Disappointment filled her and she struggled to graciously bidhim farewell. It was horrible to realize that she did not want him to go.
“I would wish you a good journey, then, and good fortune wherever you may go,” she said as sincerely as she could. “Should you ever go to Rome, perhaps you will honor me with the tale of your adventure someday.”
He just looked at her, his expression softening, the dark eyes full of something she did not understand. Much to her surprise, he reached out and took her hand and led her over to the chair near the window. He indicated for her to sit and she did so, her heart thumping loudly against her ribs. There was no way with his bulk that he could sit, so he took a knee beside her to bring himself to her level. Toby could not help but notice that he never let go of her hand the entire time. The thrill of it caused her cheeks to flush warm and warmer still until she could hardly breathe.
“There is much I wish I could tell you, mistress, but alas I cannot,” he said after a moment’s deliberation. “Suffice it to say that I do not want to go but I must. It is safer for you and your family if I do.”
“Safer?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. You need not be involved in matters that do not concern you.”
She gazed at him, long and hard. The more she looked upon him, the more handsome he seemed to become. His face was so perfectly formed that it was difficult to find any flaw with it. She became so upswept in his male beauty that she nearly forgot her train of thought.
“May I ask you something?” she asked.
“You may.”
“Are you running from someone?”
He almost looked amused. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because when you first came to the church in Cartingdon, you were wearing heavy cloaks to conceal your identity. You did not want anyone to notice you.”
His gaze gave her a hint of what he might be thinking. “You are correct in that assumption, but that is merely prudence. Knights that go about announcing themselves are inviting trouble. I would rather not invite it. I have enough.”
“Then you are not running?”
