Roger Mortimer. Toby stared at the man, wide-eyed, hardly believing it was true. He had dark hair with flecks of silver in it and was rather long-jawed. For a man with such a powerful reputation, he didn’t seem to fit the mold. The Roger Mortimershe had imagined was nine feet tall and breathed fire. Not this ordinary wisp of a man. He did not fit the ideal.
“Do you swear it?” she breathed.
“Upon my oath.”
She continued to stare up at him, debating on whether or not he was telling her the truth. He didn’t seem the lying type, but then again, the man could be prolific at it and she would never be wiser. Yet now was not the time to mistrust. She was a captive and she was injured and, as much as she loathed the idea, she would have to depend on others for assistance. She had no choice.
“What is it you want from me?” she finally asked. “I cannot tell you anything of value.”
“You may tell me who you really are and why you were at Harbottle.”
She shifted slightly, sending waves of pain through her body. With a sharp intake of breath, she waited for the pain to subside. Roger watched her intently.
“I have sent for my physic,” he said quietly. “He will attend you once you have told me your name.”
She opened her watery eyes, outraged. “So you withhold care until I have told you what you want to know? What kind of barbarian are you that you would treat a woman in this manner?”
“You were found leaving Harbottle Castle and, until I know otherwise, considered an enemy,” he leaned towards her, his brown eyes intense. “You struck a bargain with me; my name for yours. So far, I have proven to be the only one trustworthy between the two of us.”
She studied him a moment, realizing he was correct. Turning away from him, she closed her eyes as she spoke.
“I am the Lady Elizabetha Cartingdon de Lara,” she whispered. “I was at Harbottle because it is my husband’s holding.”
Roger stared at her, already knowing the answer but struck to hear it from her lips. He could not have a more valuable captive if Edward himself was lying in front of him.
“So the rumor was true,” he murmured. “Dragonblade’s wife in the flesh.”
Toby didn’t reply; her eyes were still closed as if to ignore him. Roger’s gaze lingered on her a moment before he spoke louder. “Where is your husband, my lady?”
She shook her head weakly. “I do not know. Hopefully he is well away from you.”
“So he would leave his wife alone to suffer? That does not speak well for your husband.”
Her eyes opened, the hazel orbs flashing. “You will not speak ill of him. He has a duty to Edward and, God willing, he is doing his duty.”
Roger regarded her a moment, inspecting the lines of her lovely face, seeing great strength in her. He had been told how she led a dozen of his men on a wild goose chase and, frankly, expected no less from de Lara’s wife. He actually found it amusing. Rising to his feet, he suddenly disappeared from the tent.
Toby continued to lay still, closing her eyes and feeling the warm tears trickle down her cheeks. She regretted that she told him her identity and was glad she had all in the same breath. Perhaps now he would send someone to help her. Either that or he would send someone to kill her. Lying still and pale upon the pallet, she awaited whatever sentence Mortimer was to bring upon her. She was at his mercy.
She did not have long to wait. She was almost asleep again when she heard the tent flap pull back and bodies enter the shelter. She was in so much pain that she did not bother looking.
“Here is your lady,” she heard Roger say. “Her story is the same as yours. And because you have been truthful with me, I will permit you to stay with her for now. But have no doubt that you and I shall have another talk very soon.”
Toby heard his words, struggling to open her eyes. Next she realized, a big hand was on her forehead and she opened her eyes only to look up into a familiar, well-beaten face.
Kenneth was gazing down at her, looking as if he had been beaten within an inch of his life. One eye was grossly swollen and his lip was split and bloodied. One look at him and Toby burst into soft sobs.
“Oh, Sir Kenneth,” she wept. “What have they done to you?”
He shushed her softly. “It looks far worse than it is, my lady,” he said quietly. “The bigger question is what have they done to you? I am told that you are injured.”
Her eyes closed again as if to ward off the throbbing pain in her torso. “Someone knocked me off the horse,” she murmured, tears spilling down her temples. “I think I broke something when I fell.”
Kenneth’s jaw ticked as his gaze moved down her torso. “Where does it hurt?”
“My ribs.”
“A sharp pain?”
