The night is alive, my sweet babe.
Your dreams are filled with raindrops from heaven;
Sleep, my sweet babe, and cry no more.
The tenderness of it broke Toby’s heart.
*
January was abitterly cold month and it was rare that the sun was able to break through the heavy covering of clouds at any given time. On the afternoon following Ailsa’s burial, the sun, remarkably, was able to burst through the mist. In the master’s chamber, organizing all of her worldly possessions, Toby took it as a sign from God. She thought perhaps he was happier now that he had Ailsa to keep him company and that thought, however foolish it seemed, kept her from the depths of grief. It was a comfort.
She stood for a moment in the lancet window, eyes closed, feeling the weak warmth on her face. Her emerald-colored surcoat was in her hands, as she had been fussing with a spot on the fabric. She knew it must have occurred the night Tate and his knights had come to sup at Forestburn. She remembered that day with some fondness, though it seemed like a terribly long time ago. In fact, everything at Forestburn seemed like it belonged to another time and another world. Now her world was Harbottle Castle and a future she could never have imagined.
A future that revolved around a man she was becoming increasingly attached to. As Toby kept busy in her chamber, Tate and his men were down in the bailey effecting repairs on the walls and front gates. The siege had left them burned and a small army of men were going into the forest that lay to the south of the castle and harvesting trees to rebuild the gates. Toby couldsee the men in the distance filtering in and out of the tree line. She didn’t see Tate but she imagined he was among them.
Thoughts of the man brought a smile to her lips. For twenty-one years of her life, she had been relatively alone. She had never imagined she would ever wed, as she had firmly told Tate when they first met. Now she was betrothed to the man who had called her appalling. She giggled softly as she thought of his initial impression of her; not that he hadn’t been correct, but at least now he saw her strong personality as a positive trait and not a negative one. She hoped, with time, he would see her as much more. She couldn’t even hope that the man would love her; that was a fool’s dream. A strong like was good enough for her.
A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts and she turned in the direction of the panel.
“Come,” she called.
The door creaked open softly and Stephen stood there, his cornflower blue eyes intense. “Good afternoon, mistress,” he said in his deep, gentle voice. “I have brought you something.”
Curious, Toby stepped away from the window and the glare of the weak January sun. Immediately, she spied something small and furry in the crook of Stephen’s left arm. Two big cat-eyes looked back at her.
“My goodness,” she said with a grin. “What in the world do you have, Sir Stephen?”
Stephen took a timid step into the room. “I seem to remember you boring one of my patients with tales of your cats,” he indicated the little orange kitten in his grasp. “I brought you one.”
Toby’s smiled broadened with delight as she set the emerald garment aside. She held her hands out and Stephen deposited the warm, purring bundle into them. She hugged it tightly.
“He is so sweet,” she crooned, laying her cheek against the furry head. “Wherever did you find him?”
“The stable is full of them,” he told her. “They multiply like mad in there. This one, however, is small and seems to be left out of the food chain. I thought you could help him since you seem to like cats so much.”
She cuddled her new pet, her hazel eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you,” she stroked the little head and was rewarded with a healthy meow. “I love him already.”
Stephen smiled, watching her embrace the kitten. It had worked the magic he hoped it would. In truth, while Tate was off repairing the castle, Stephen had finished with his rounds in the great hall and had set off to the stables in search of a cat. He’d seen them there before and as luck would have it, there were several for his choosing. He’d stood by and watched her say a very difficult farewell to her sister that morning and was hoping the cat would cheer her up.
“Well,” he said, realizing his business was concluded and that he should probably leave. “I can see that the cat is in good hands.”
Petting the kitten, Toby began looking around the room. “I fear that I have nothing to feed him. I should go down to the kitchen and find him something.”
“Would you allow me to accompany you?”
A twinge of disquiet ran through Toby as she gazed up into his brilliant blue eyes. She was coming to sense that the man was interested in her on more than a mere acquaintance level; that was obvious when Tate and Stephen ran into each other in her chamber last night. She did not want to be cruel to the man but she did not want to encourage him, either.
“I am sure you have more important things to attend to,” she insisted. “You do not need to worry about me. I can fend for myself.”
“You are the last person I would worry over,” he replied. “And I offer to escort you for purely selfish reasons.”
“What might those be?”
“Because I want to.”
A warning bell went off in Toby’s head. The smiled faded from her lips as she gazed up at him, not at all wanting to hurt the man’s feelings for he had been inordinately kind to her. But it was not fair to not tell him the truth of the matter; she wasn’t interested in him and never would be so long as Tate was in her life. She cocked her head thoughtfully, trying to think of the correct way to phrase what she must say.
“Sir Stephen,” she started off hesitantly. “May I… speak with you?”
