“Stay away, de Roche,” Edward raised the sword in a weak threat. “I will kill you if you come any closer, I swear it.”
De Roche laughed low in his throat. “You are brave, sire. You have grown since last we spoke.”
Edward was nearly to the top of the stairs and increasingly fearful of his fate. He was at a disadvantage and he knew it. But unexpectedly, a wet figure pushed past him, a blur of hair and ashen flesh. Toby suddenly wedged herself between Edward and the dark knight, causing Edward to trip and fall back on the steps. Truthfully, he was so startled to see her that he had fallen over his own feet.
Toby was pale and shaken, her nightshift damp from the bath she had taken to save her life. She had awoken on her bed, hearing urgent voices in the hall and wondering why she was all wet. Ailsa was asleep beside her and she had not the strength to wake her sister and ask what had transpired. When the voices drew closer, men she did not recognize, she was curious more than she sensed danger. But a terrified young man’s voice told her something was amiss. Rising from the bed, which was noeasy feat, she had stumbled to the door in time to see Tate’s squire heading off with an enormous knight.
The lad was frightened, that much was evident. The big knight looked as if he was about to do the youth serious harm. Having no idea who the man was, she instinctively took a defensive stance. She was enraged that someone would violate the sanctity of her home, no matter what the circumstances. Staggering over to the hearth, she grabbed the fire poker, the only weapon-like instrument in the room.
De Roche was soon aware of a poker staring him in the face.
“How dare you enter my home without permission,” Toby hissed. “Leave this boy alone. Get out of here.”
De Roche’s gaze drifted over her in a way that made Toby feel dirty and exposed. “Lady, this matter does not concern you. I shall leave your home gladly as soon as young Edward lets go his sword and comes with me.”
Toby’s mind was fogged with illness and she did not comprehend that the man had called the squire by a different name. She lowered the poker as if she meant to attack him.
“Get out. I will not tell you again.”
“And I will not tell you again that I am not ready to.”
She swung the poker at his head. He easily sidestepped the blow, grabbed the poker from her, and tossed it over the side of the stairs. Toby heard it clatter on the floor below. Keeping Edward behind her, she made sure to stay between the boy and the knight as they slowly backed away.
“You would make this far easier for yourself if you would simply move out of the way,” de Roche told her.
“I am not moving,” Toby replied, firm but frightened. “Why would you want to harm this boy?”
“I already told you: I do not want to harm him. I have simply been sent to retrieve him.”
“He does not want to go with you; can you not see that?”
They had reached the top of the steps. De Roche was finished debating with her and reached out to move her aside. He truthfully had no intention of hurting her. But the moment he laid his hands on her, Toby turned into a wildcat and began kicking and biting. She nipped de Roche on the hand and he grunted, shifting his grip so she could not reach him with her sharp teeth.
He was about to toss her aside when he suddenly lurched forward. It was a violent move that pitched him onto the floor. He let go of Toby somewhere in the process and she stumbled back. Only the terrified king had saved her from falling completely. The two of them looked at the knight on the ground, dumbfounded. But the large body standing where de Roche had once been ended their confusion.
Tate stood on the top of the steps holding the poker he had picked up off the floor down below. His expression was grave as he inspected the man on the floor. Unlike de Roche’s handiwork, Tate knew Hamlin would not be regaining lucidity any time soon. The whack to his head had been for damage. For his part, Tate had a slight headache but was none the worse for wear. He rubbed the back of his skull as he looked at Toby.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, though in truth, she wasn’t. She was horribly weak and still very ill. When she tried to speak, she suddenly felt very faint and would have collapsed but for Edward. He broke her fall and Tate picked her up.
“Edward, rouse the family,” he ordered. “The manor is afire and there is little time to waste. Tell them to gather what they can and get out.”
“My mother,” Toby breathed, struggling weakly to remove herself from Tate’s hold. “She cannot move by herself. She will need help.”
“Then I will send a man up for her,” Tate said. “We need to get you out of here.”
While Edward disappeared into one of the rooms, Tate carried Toby back into her chamber. Ailsa, awoken by the commotion, sat up on the bed and rubbed her eyes.
“What is happening?” she asked. She saw Toby as her vision cleared. “Toby! What is wrong with her?”
Tate sat Toby very gently on the end of the bed. “Bravery is exhausting,” he said simply, but there was no time for idle chatter. “Ailsa, we need to leave right away. Where are your traveling cases?”
Ailsa blinked as if she did not understand the question. Then she pointed to the wardrobe against the wall. Tate went to the bureau and quickly pulled out two large leather trunks. He started throwing clothes in them at random.
Ailsa ran over to him. “Why do we have to leave? What is the matter?”
She was verging on tears. Tate paused, putting his hands on her slender shoulders. “You must be brave, little one. I need your help.”