He put his hands on her upper arms and pulled her head to his lips for a sweet kiss. “I will buy you whatever you need to replace what has been lost,” he said. “You need not worry about money.”
She closed her eyes as he kissed her temple again, relishing the feel of him and thrilled that everything that had transpired between them yesterday had not been a dream. When she had awoken this morning, she almost wasn’t sure what was real.
“I am not worried about money,” she said with a furrowed brow. “But I will be honest when I say that I am worried over many things.”
“Like what?”
“The people of Cartingdon, for example. I really must return to Forestburn as soon as possible to ease their minds.” She fidgeted with the edge of the bed. “And then there are my parents… and Ailsa….”
She hung her head, biting her lip to keep from bursting into tears. Tate could see the mood darkening and he collected her in his arms, taking her over to the bed and pulling her onto his enormous thighs as he sat. It was a tender moment, full of the warmth of discovery. She was soft and sweet upon him. He held her tightly, his face against the side of her head.
“We must speak of your sister,” he murmured. “I realize how difficult this is for you, but we must bury Ailsa this morning. Stephen has already moved her coffin to the chapel in preparation for doing so.”
The tears came then and she wiped at them, missing a few that fell silently to her lap. Tate gave her a squeeze, kissing her on the side of the head and wishing he could give her more comfort.
“I know she must be buried,” she whispered. “But it is difficult to think of putting my little sister in the ground when she was alive and well only two days ago. I simply cannot believe that she has passed.”
He kissed her cheek. “I know,” he muttered, “for I have been in your shoes. I understand completely.”
She looked up at him, the hazel eyes swimming with tears. “I heard whispers once that you lost your wife years ago,” she said. “Cartingdon Parrish, if nothing else, is a fertile ground for gossip. If it is untrue, I apologize for repeating it.”
He gazed into her eyes, remembering the pain he had suffered through four years ago. Strange how he didn’t feel it as horrifically as he used to; true, it was still there, like a faded ache from long ago. Oddly enough, Toby seemed to do a great deal towards pushing it into the deep recesses of his memory where it was a moment of sadness and nothing more. It had been a time when he thought he had died inside. But Toby made him feel very much alive and he was willing to speak on the subject.
“It is true,” he said. “She perished in childbirth. I lost my daughter as well.”
Toby’s grief shifted focus. “I am so terribly sorry for you,” she said sincerely. “Losing a sister is bad enough, but to lose your wife and child… I surely cannot imagine the pain you experienced.”
“I hope you never will. I will do my best to ensure that you do not.”
Toby stared into his storm colored eyes, realizing she felt comforted by the fact that he had indeed experienced grief on her level. He understood. It gave her strength, somehow drawing them closer, and she wiped at her face in an effort to compose herself.
“Then we should not keep Ailsa waiting,” she rose from his lap but continued to hold his hand. “I am ready.”
He stood next to her, towering over her with his size and strength. Gently, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as they moved towards the door.
“Your bravery, as always, is astonishing,” he said softly, allowing her to pass first through the door.
She smiled weakly. “’Tis not bravery. ’Tis simply the way of things; it must be done and hysterics on my part will not change it.”
“That is much more like the Elizabetha I first met at Forestburn.”
“How do you mean?”
“Strong and decisive.”
“And appalling?”
He grinned, hearing his words echoed. “You are never going to forgive me for that, are you?”
“Perhaps. But not today.”
He kissed her hand as she descended the stairs, his gaze lingering on her golden brown head. As much as he had loved his wife, he couldn’t ever remember feeling such strong emotion for her as he felt for Toby. There was something about the woman that already had her embedded deep into his heart and soul as if nothing else had existed before.
Together, they made their way to the tiny chapel of Harbottle. Toby felt moderately strong until she entered the chapel and saw her sister’s coffin near the altar. Then, she faltered, her eyes brimming and her heart pounding. It was a struggle to remain strong. As Tate escorted her into the small chamber, Kenneth, Stephen and Edward were there to greet her. One of the most tender acts of compassion that Tate had ever seen was when the young king, unable to voice his sympathies, took Toby’s hand and held it tightly. As she struggled not to cry, he struggled not to cry also. He just stood there and held her hand. The little girl that had so terrified him with her attention had nonetheless left her mark.
Wallace gave the liturgy that sent Ailsa’s young soul to a better place. Instead of a hymn, Tate stood over the grave and sang the song that Ailsa had loved so well.
To the sky, my sweet babe;
