Tate had triedto make Toby go to bed as midnight approached, but she repeatedly refused his requests to the point of walking the other way when he would look at her. There were double the wounded in the hall now that the injured in the bailey had been brought in and, consequently, double the work. Toby would not shirk her duties and worked deep into the night with Stephen, Wallace and Althel to ease the men’s suffering. Eventually, Tate gave up trying to force her to rest and went about his duties with Kenneth. But it didn’t stop him from keeping an eye on Toby, making sure he knew where she was every second. Now, things were different and he felt very possessive and very protective of her. Already, she very much belonged to him.
Just after midnight, Tate and Kenneth huddled in the solar to make plans for morning repairs. Toby was in the great hall tending to a very young man who had a sucking chest wound. He was, in truth, no more than sixteen years of age and her heart hurt for him as he struggled to be brave against the pain. While the other wounded seemed to be in various stages ofsleep, the young man was wide awake because of his difficulty in breathing. Stephen had already used a great deal of skill to stitch up the initial wound but the lad didn’t seem to be much better.
So Toby sat with him, speaking to him quietly to keep his mind off his pain. As she sat with him, thoughts of Ailsa began to creep back into her mind but she fought them, knowing that she still had a job to do before she could tend to her sister’s burial. In truth, she had been so swept up in the battle that she’d not given any thought to her baby sister, now dead for more than a day. She knew that if she gave over to those thoughts that she would be useless, so she tried to bank them. These men were alive and needed her help. She wanted to do what she could.
The boy with the chest wound seemed to be increasingly uncomfortable. Toby found herself trying to distract him with tales of the cats that used to hang around their stables.
“There was a white one, an orange one and a black one,” she said as she held his hand. “The black cat ran from everyone while the orange one was always begging for food. And the white one would attack your feet as you walked by. We had several dogs, too, that were our protectors. Not one of them had a name; we simply called the lot of them ‘the dogs’.”
The boy grinned weakly, trying to focus on something other than his increasing inability to breathe. “I had a dog when I was small,” he said. “It would eat at the table with us. My father would become angry but my mother would feed it.”
Toby smiled, patting him on the hand. “Are your parents still alive?”
“Still. My father is a farmer.”
“So was mine.”
Before the boy could reply, Stephen suddenly appeared and kneeled beside him. Toby looked up at the man; he was unshaven and clearly exhausted, but the cornflower blue eyeswere still bright. When he saw that Toby was looking at him, he smiled faintly.
“I came to check on your patient,” he said quietly. “He seems to be the only one not sleeping.”
“He is having difficulty breathing,” Toby explained. “I am telling him stories about my cats.”
Stephen’s smile grew. “Cats, is it? I see I have come in the nick of time to save him from boredom.”
The youth laughed silently as Toby scowled. With a lingering glance at Toby, Stephen proceeded to unwrap the bandages on the boy’s chest and look underneath. All Toby could see was blood and ooze and she turned her head, not wanting to study that particular gore. She’d seen enough of it lately. After a moment, Stephen replaced the dressing.
“I will need to place fresh bandages on this,” he told Toby. “I will return.”
She nodded, watching him as he stood up. As she looked at him, walking through the darkness, she suddenly had visions of him taking Ailsa from her arms and whisking her little sister off into the darkness. It was an odd transition from comforting a wounded man to thinking of her sister, but as she watched Stephen walk away, the urge to find out about her sister’s whereabouts suddenly became very strong. She had been fighting off thoughts of Ailsa for some time but found she could no longer do it. For her own peace of mind, she had to know. Now that the battle was diminished and the wounded seemed to be settled, she could no longer fight her sisterly instinct.
She reassured the boy that she would return before following Stephen’s path across the floor. He had his medicaments set up on the large eating table, an entire corner confiscated. Everything was in ordered arrangement. Toby walked up behind him as he organized new wrappings.
“Is the boy going to die?” she asked softly.
Stephen turned to look at her, his gaze moving out of the darkened hall to the lad on the other side. “If poison does not claim him, the wound should heal,” he replied.
Toby continued to watch as he drew forth phials of white powder. “Sir Stephen, I was wondering…,” she swallowed, collecting her thoughts. “I mean to ask where you have taken my sister.”
Stephen looked at her; she seemed calm and rational enough. Frankly, he had been expecting the question and was prepared. “She is in the store room,” he said quietly. “I put her there because it is cool and I was not certain when we would be able to bury her.”
As much as she was trying to be strong, tears sprang to Toby’s eyes and she wiped at them furiously. “So she has been beneath me all the while,” she murmured.
Stephen nodded, not unsympathetic. “Wallace built her a nice, sturdy coffin and Tate has found a place in the chapel to bury her.”
Toby was quickly dissolving into tears. She put her hand on Stephen’s arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For showing my sister such concern, I thank you. I am sorry that I was so unreasonable yesterday when you came to take her.”
She moved to pull her hand away but Stephen covered it with his own hand and Toby realized that he was gripping her fingers. “I am truly sorry for your loss, mistress,” he said quietly. “If it had been in my power to save her, please know that I would have done so. I would have done anything to spare you such grief.”
Toby felt there was more to his declaration than simple words and it made her uncomfortable. In the midst of her tears, she could only nod her head and gently, but firmly, remove her hand from his grasp. But Stephen wouldn’t be so easily put aside.
“You really should rest,” he grasped her by the upper arm as she tried to walk away. “Wallace and I can handle the wounded. There is no need for you to remain.”
“I am not tired.”
“A noble lie. I will give you something to help you sleep.”
“Stephen, truly,” she pulled herself from his grasp almost irritably. “I do not wish to sleep. I want to help.”
