“Fairly sure,” she was beginning to sniffle, a prelude to bursting into tears. “Why? What’s wrong? Why do you look so?”
Kenneth didn’t want to frighten her but he was, in fact, frightened himself.Tate’s legacy.Of course, he was thrilled for Tate but he was also terrified. If Mortimer knew of Lady de Lara’s pregnancy, then he feared the dynamics of the situation would change dramatically. Not only would de Lara’s wife be captive, but she could quite possibly have the child in captivity. Then Mortimer would have Tate’s entire family to bargain with. Tate had already lost one wife and child; Kenneth knew, as he lived and breathed, that Tate would not lose another.
“I am sorry,” he struggled to compose himself. “I did not mean to frighten you. But you must understand the seriousness of this situation. Mortimer must not know that you carry Tate’s child.”
She sniffled. “I did not plan to tell him.”
He was glad she had not asked for more of an explanation; it would have frightened her further and he was trying very hard not to upset her. “Good,” he sighed. “You must adhere to that vow. It is important.”
“I will,” she was giving him a pouting face. “But why?”
So much for not having to explain his reasons to her. “Because Mortimer will use the child against Tate just as he is using you,” he tried not to sound too intense. “What man would not risk everything for his wife and child?”
Her face darkened, somewhere between guilt and anger. “He would not harm the baby, would he?”
“Nay. But Tate would risk his life for you both. The harm, if any, would come to Tate.”
She looked as if she was about to cry again but steeled herself. Naïve as she was about war and politics, she was getting a very quick lesson on the brutality of warfare. Fortunately, she was a good student. She understood the seriousness of the situation.
“We must keep this secret very safe, then,” she looked at Timothy, the earl’s physic. “You will not tell him, of course.”
Kenneth looked at Timothy, too; he was the only uncertain element in all of this and Kenneth still did not trust him. But at the moment, he had little choice.
Timothy, seeing that all eyes were upon him, nodded quickly. “He will not hear it from my lips, I swear it,” he said, indicating the cup in Toby’s hand. “Drink up, my lady. It is a nourishing brew.”
Toby put the cup to her lips and drank. Kenneth watched her, softening, understanding now why she had been so volatile. Over his initial terror, he realized that he was quite happy for Tate. He knew that the man would be thrilled. Standing up, he went over to Toby and took her free hand.
“Let me be the first to offer my congratulations to you and Tate,” he said sincerely. “I know he will be very pleased.”
She licked her lips of the slightly sweet brew. “Do you really think so?”
Kenneth nodded fervently and released her hand. “I do.”
A timid smile spread across her face. “I cannot wait to tell him.”
Kenneth met her smile and, taking the cup from her grasp, set it upon the vanity. He held out an elbow to her. “Unfortunately, you will have to,” he said. “But for now, Mortimer is waiting and we do not need to agitate the man. Come along.”
She took his arm and he led her to the door. Kenneth opened the panel and allowed her to pass through first. Timothy was right behind them. Before the little physic left the room, however, Kenneth growled at him.
“Be sure you honor your word,” he rumbled. “If you mention anything to Mortimer about this, they will never find your body, I swear it.”
Timothy blanched, looking at Kenneth as if the Devil himself had just threatened him. But before he could reply, Kenneth quit the room and resumed his escort of Lady de Lara. Timothy stood there a moment, struggling to compose himself; he didn’t doubt that the knight was sincere. The man had not liked nor trusted him from the onset of his association with Lady de Lara. But Timothy was becoming quite attached to the lady, far more attached than he was to Mortimer. Still, he was sworn to the Earl of March. It was where his loyalty was. But his friendship was rooted sentimentally to the lady.
Taking a deep breath for courage, Timothy followed.
*
The Earl ofSuffolk was a tall, thin man with a receding hairline and a beak-like nose. The moment Toby entered the room on Kenneth’s arm, the earl and Roger vied for her attention like two smitten schoolboys. It infuriated the normally-calm Kenneth so much that Toby sent him to the opposite side of the room so he would not throttle them both. Kenneth did as he was told, lingering in the shadows and shooting daggers with his ice-blue gaze. Toby could feel his fury from the dais, hoping that Mortimer didn’t feel it also.
She sat between Suffolk and Mortimer, feeling their hot, smelly breath on her cheek as they talked non-stop. Most of the chatter was pointless and boring and between themselves as they spoke over her, but several times they tried to engage her in conversation. Her answers were short and disinterested, much to Mortimer’s displeasure. She seemed preoccupied with everything in the room but the two of them. The more she ignored him, the angrier Mortimer became.
When the meal was finished and the dogs were fighting over the bones, Toby continued to sit at the large dais, boxed in between Roger and de Ufford. She stared straight ahead as they chatted over the swell of her bosom; she could only imagine the heated stares she was getting from both men but she refused to acknowledge them. She could see Kenneth over near the hearth, lingering in the shadows, while Timothy sat at another table directly in front of her. He kept wriggling his eyebrows at her and Toby struggled not to smile at him.
De Roche entered the hall at one point and stood several feet away from Kenneth, watching the man as Kenneth watched the dais. It was the normal dynamics of their existence; being so close to each other had the seasoned knights highly attuned, ready to defend or attack at a moment’s notice. De Roche wanted nothing more than to slip a dirk between Kenneth’s ribs and Kenneth wanted nothing more than to murder Mortimer andde Roche, in that order. But they maintained their posts in silence until the relatively calm atmosphere of the room abruptly changed when Toby slapped de Ufford across the face.
It was the suggestive caress on her right thigh that set her off. Toby’s instinctive reaction was to slap the man on her right as hard as she could and de Ufford was the recipient of a vicious whack to the face. As he fell back, Toby leapt to her feet and grabbed her half-eaten trencher, smashing it over his head. The man completely lost his balance and ended up sprawled on the floor. Before Toby could further attack him, Mortimer had her by the arms.
“Lady de Lara,” he exclaimed. “You will behave yourself!”
