“We have more important things to attend to, my lady,” he was trying not to show disrespect to the woman his liege had recently married. “We are still repairing damage from the siege and I hardly think that scrubbing the keep is a priority.”
“I will decide what the priorities are,” she snapped. “I am in charge here. You will do as you are told.”
Wallace’s leathered face tightened with fury. “I take my orders from Lord Tate.”
Toby lifted an eyebrow. “When you are inside this keep, you take them from me. This is now my domain and the sooner you understand that, the better we shall get along. This keep is an embarrassment and I intend to see it cleaned from top to bottom.”
“There is no embarrassment to this place, my lady.”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“I have more important things to do.”
“Then get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get out. And stay out.”
Wallace opened his mouth in outrage but Toby was already moving towards the hearth. A long iron poker stood propped against the wall and she grabbed it, wielding it like a weapon.
“Did you hear me?” she barked. “If you are not going to do as you are told, then you will get out.”
His brow furrowed and his teeth bared, preparing for a very sharp retort that would perhaps be not so polite. But Toby swung the poker at him and smacked him across the thigh, not hard enough to do damage but hard enough to sting.
“Out!” she yelled.
When Wallace didn’t move fast enough, she took another swing and the old priest jumped out of the way, making his way very quickly towards the keep entry. Toby followed on his heels, swinging the poker again and catching him across the buttocks.
“Out!”
Wallace shot out through the entry door as if the devil himself was on his heels. He was half-way down the stairs when Toby appeared on the landing, leveling the poker in front of her.
“And stay out until you can learn to obey my wishes!”
Wallace ran across the bailey and disappeared somewhere in the vicinity of the knight’s quarters. Upon the battlements near the gatehouse, Tate and Kenneth had been given a marvelous view of the last few seconds when Wallace ran from the keep with Toby chasing after him. They both watched Wallace scurry across the ward and out of sight as Toby stood on the entry landing, holding a very large fire poker and threatening him. After a few moments of stunned silence, Kenneth looked at Tate, whose storm cloud eyes were riveted to his wife. He seemed quite unconcerned about the entire incident.
“Hmmm,” he muttered casually. “I was wondering how long it would take for Elizabetha and Wallace to come to blows. I see that I did not have long to wait.”
He looked at Kenneth, whose head was lowered. Upon closer inspection, the man seemed to be shaking. Tate peered even closer and realized that Kenneth was far gone with laughter. The normally stoic and unflappable knight was red with mirth. Realizing that it was indeed a very comical scene, it was a struggle for Tate to keep a smile off his face.
“Stop laughing,” he commanded quietly. “For I must go confront my wife and if I remember your laughter, it will be impossible for me to keep a straight face. Stop it, I say.”
Kenneth took a deep breath and lifted his head, struggling to focus. “Of course,” he said, though it was in an oddly strangled tone. “It was not the least bit humorous.”
“Aye, it was, but I doubt Elizabetha will think so and I have no desire to feel a blow from that poker. You may see me running out of the keep with an angry woman on my heels.”
Kenneth couldn’t help it; he busted out into muffled guffaws and Tate slugged him weakly on the shoulder before making his way back down to the bailey. Crossing through the mud and rain, he mounted the steps to the keep and took refuge inside the dark, stale entry. Immediately, he spied Toby in the great hall ahead of him. She was without the poker and speaking with Althel and another old servant. Young Edward was also standing with her, listening intently. Tate walked upon the group.
“Greetings,” he was focused on his wife, although Edward responded to his salutation. “I do not wish to interrupt, but may I have a word, madam?”
Althel and the old servant immediately stepped away. Edward was a little slower, not realizing Tate had meant a private word with Toby but understanding the matter quickly when Tate cast him a long look. The young king disappeared as Tate focused on his wife.
As he gazed at her, he could hardly believe they had been married an entire day. It seemed as if he had never been without her yet he could still hardly believe she belonged to him. He’d met the woman a week ago and already, she was indelibly a part of him. When she smiled he reached out and pulled her against him, kissing her gently.
“I have not seen you since dawn,” he murmured, kissing the end of her nose. “I had to come and see you again.”
Toby’s entire body tingled with the thrill of his embrace, her heart swelling with joy at his words. She, too, was finding it difficult to believe that they were married, that this man who had abruptly transformed her life was now her husband. Last night had been another glorious night of exploration and lovemaking. It seemed like a dream but it was a dream she was glad never to awaken from. She never knew she could be so happy in spite of the highs and lows of the past several days. It was like walking on clouds, every minute of every day.
“I am glad that you could not stay away,” she wound her arms around his neck. “It all seems quite empty without you.”
He kissed her again, nuzzling her cheek. “I think you are doing well enough at keeping yourself occupied,” he said, pulling back to look at her. “You are busy enough to chase Wallace from the keep. I have never seen the man so terrified.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “He would not help me clean the keep. So I told him to get out and stay out until he could learn to obey my wishes. I refuse to live in squalor and that man seems content to.”
Tate sighed. “He is used to running Harbottle his own way. You must give him time to become accustomed to you.”
“He says he takes orders only from you.”
“I will rectify that.”
“Please understand that I am not trying to dominate the man, but he must learn to take orders from us both.”
“Agreed.” He leaned his forehead against her, closing his eyes a moment to relish the feel of her against him. “So you intend to clean this keep, do you? You have quite a task ahead of you.”
“I know,” she snuggled against him, delighting in his powerful warmth. She fell silent a moment before speaking again. “But there is another task that is far more important to me. Will you hear it?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I believe I already know it.”
She pursed her lips, toying with the ties on his tunic. “I must return, Tate. You know this. Every day I delay there is more chance of someone stealing our sheep or ransacking what is left of the manor. I do not want to lose what we have left. I must return to see what pieces I have to pick up.”
He sighed again, rubbing his cheek against her forehead. Then he released her, taking her hand and leading her over to the massive table. Sitting her on the bench, he took a seat beside her, straddling the wooden plank. He took her hand, holding it warmly as he thought on what to say.
“And I have priorities as well,” he said, studying her features in the firelight. “I was supposed to leave for London five days ago. But instead, I have seen a siege and a marriage that has me slightly off track. Every day I delay, Edward could be in jeopardy. I have a mission to complete. You have known this since the day we met.”
She smiled weakly. “You came for money for Edward’s cause. You ended up with a wife.”
He grinned. “I will take the money, of course, but somehow that seems rather insignificant by comparison.”
“What do you mean?”
“The wife was by far the better deal.”
Her smile broadened and she lowered her gaze modestly; she was thrilled and flattered by his compliments. It was enough to make her feel giddy but she managed to keep her head.
“Then, may I ask, what seems to be the most pressing in your view?” she asked. “Of course I would say that my wants are most important to me, but I also realize that you have far larger issues at hand. I am only worried about a small parish in Northumberland while you are worried about an entire country. What will we do?”
He watched her as she spoke, noticing how her nose crinkled when she asked a question. She had the most amazing face and he was in danger of becoming swept away the longer he looked at her.
“Well,” he grunted, shifting on the bench and pulling her between his legs. “I am destined to take Edward and head for London at some point; however, we are safe for the moment so I am not entirely inclined to move from this haven. Secondly, I suspect that when I do go, you will be no less determined to return to Forestburn and I do not want you returning there alone. In fact, I do not want you out of my sight. So I would imagine that we should take a day and ride to Forestburn so you can at least assess the damage and assure the town that all is as it should be and that you are still in charge. With your father’s death, however, there is no more lord mayor of Cartingdon.”
She lifted her eyebrows in agreement, trying not to think on the fact that she was both fatherless and motherless. It brought inherent sorrow. She tried to stay focused to the issue at hand.
“My father was mayor for many years,” she said softly. “The people of Cartingdon will not soon forget him. For now, I think it wise that they see me and know that they have not been abandoned. I will secure a few of the local farmers to tend our sheep, mingling them with their own stock and splitting any increases in the herds, which will take care of the problem of our sheep for the time being. I will also need to scavenge the ruins of Forestburn for anything salvageable.”
“Do you think you can accomplish this all in one day?”
“I do not know. Can you at least give me two?”
He nodded after a moment. “I suspect I can. We will go tomorrow.”
She smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
He returned her grin, giving her a squeeze and kissing her cheek. “My pleasure, madam. Is there anything else we should discuss before I take my leave of you and return to the bailey?”
“One more thing.”
“What is that?”
She looked at him, hesitantly. “When you leave for London, will I stay here?”
His smile faded as he gazed into her almond-shaped eyes. “You will be safe here.”
She took a long, deep breath, lowering her gaze. “How… how long do you expect to be gone?”
“I do not know.”
“Are you going into battle?”
“Aye.”
She sat there, looking at her hands, before falling against him and burying her face in his shoulder. His big arms enveloped her, his face on the top of her head. As the flames in the hearth snapped and smoked, he rocked her gently in the weak light of the hall. He knew what she was feeling without benefit of words; mostly because he was feeling the same thing himself. There was already a longing for her in his heart that he could not begin to describe.
“I could not bear if it something happened to you,” her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “I have lost my entire family. I could not survive if I lost you as well.”
She could feel him sigh into the top of her head. “I am sorry to cause you such fear,” he said quietly. “But I have a destiny to fulfill and so does young Edward. A man is ruling England who has no right to the throne. I must make sure that the rightful king takes his place and that the threat of Mortimer is vanquished.”
She pulled her head from his shoulder and wiped at her face; he realized that she was crying and it touched him more than he could have imagined. Women had cried for him before, of course, but their tears had never meant anything to him. But Toby’s mattered a great deal. Before she could wipe all of her tears away, he took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
“Elizabetha,” he whispered. “Look at me.”
It took her a moment to lift her eyes to meet his; they were still full of tears. He smiled gently, caressing her soft cheeks with his thumbs. “I have been a warrior for many years and have yet, in all that time, to become grievously injured. I can only swear that I will do my best to continue that tradition. I will do my best to return to you.”
“I could not bear it if I lost you,” she murmured, blinking and spattering tears on his hand.
He pulled her face to his lips and kissed her tenderly. “I swear to you upon my oath that I will do all in my power to ensure that you do not. I want to return to you as badly as you want me to.”
“But I am so frightened for you.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You? Frightened? I do not believe it. The woman I saw this morning with a poker in her hand is not the frightened type.”
He was attempting to lighten the mood but she wanted no part of it. “Why can I not go with you to London? I swear that I will not be a burden.”
He looked at her as if she was mad, dropping his hands from her face. “I am going into battle, sweetheart. You cannot go with me.”
“I will bring my poker. I can fight alongside you.”
He stared at her. Then he burst out laughing. He put his arms around her again and held her close, chuckling.
“You probably would,” he said. “And I would be proud to have you. However, I would be more worried for you than for me and distraction in my profession can be deadly. I could not have you as a distraction, a lovely one though you may be.”
She could see that he would not be swayed. Resignation and despair filled her. “Then I hope that God will not be so cruel as to take away everyone who is close to me at the same time,” she said softly. “My father, my mother, then Ailsa… perhaps you. Do you suppose that I am being punished for all of those years I disagreed with my father at every turn or punished Ailsa when perhaps I should not have?”
He shook his head slowly, his dark eyes glittering. “I do not believe God to be a vengeful God,” he said softly. “In fact, I see him as a kind and generous God. He brought us together, did he not?”
In spite of her fear, she smiled at him, her small hands on both of his cheeks. “I am grateful that He brought you to Cartingdon,” she whispered. “I never knew it was possible to feel such things.”
“Feel what things?”
Her smiled faded, her hands caressing his stubbled cheeks. After a moment, she shrugged. “Hope and joy,” she stumbled through an explanation, not exactly sure how to put her thoughts into words. “I did not think you liked me very much at first. You were quite cold.”
He snorted. “I was not.”
“Aye, you were,” she insisted. “But I do not blame you. I am quite difficult to tolerate sometimes. When we were ambushed in the fog near Lorbottle and you went off in search of our attackers, I was so glad to see you when you returned. But I could never tell you that. I was not even sure why I was happy to see you, but I was.”
His smile warmed. “And I was glad to see you as well, but I was not going to tell you, either.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You did indeed tell me. You took my hand and spoke kindly to me. You told me that you did not want to leave but that you had to. Do you not recall this?”
He pretended to be very forgetful. “I said no such thing. It must have been another suitor that told you such silly things.”
She pursed her lips irritably. “I have not had any other suitors.”
“Hmmm,” he scratched his cheek distractedly. “Well, then I suppose I must confess. And there is something else I must confess.”
“What is that?”
He pushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, his storm cloud eyes intense as he gazed at her. “When I returned from chasing assassins through the fog and saw you seated at your father’s desk,
it was at that precise moment that I realized I was feeling more than normal concern for you. It must have been shortly thereafter that I realized I loved you.”
He said it so casually that it took her a moment to comprehend what he had said. Then Toby’s eyes opened wide. “You… you love me?” she gasped.
He eyed her briefly as if she was mad for thinking otherwise before breaking down into a gentle smile. “Of course, you silly wench,” he leaned forward to nuzzle her cheek. “How could you possibly think differently?”
She closed her eyes to his gentle kisses, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly. Of all things she imagined their relationship to be, love had not truly entered her thoughts until yesterday. Then the notion had crept up on her so subtly that she was not surprised or afraid; just as everything else with Tate, it had seemed the most natural of things. She could not remember when she had not loved the man.
“Oh, Tate,” she murmured. “I love you, also. With all my heart, I do.”
He laughed softly. They remained in their embrace for quite some time after the conversation died, simply content to hold one another and reflect on their unexpected confession. It had been difficult for Tate to spit out, but he was extremely glad he had; the last person he had confessed his love to had died and to feel adoration again, to admit it, had been a huge step for him to take.
Tate rocked her gently, his cheek against the top of her head and his gaze lingering on the fire. But his warm thoughts faded as his mind inevitably moved to the next few days and what he needed to accomplish. More than that, he knew he was dreading their separation more than she was and it was a distressing thought. If she had begged any longer to accompany him he might have very well brought her along, and that would not have been healthy for either of them.
He was saved by further debate and perhaps failure of his resolve by Kenneth entering the hall. Tate stood up as his knight approached.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 190