Tate pulled one of the blankets from the wagon onto his lap. He held out his hand to the girl. “Come here, sweetheart,” he said. “Ride with me. You will feel better.”
She sobbed and sputtered, waking Toby in the process. The older sister was very groggy as she struggled to sit up against the bumping of the wagon.
“Ailsa,” she murmured hoarsely. “What is wrong?”
Ailsa sobbed and coughed. Suddenly, she vomited all over the front of her garment as Toby tried to catch the liquid with a section of the blanket. It turned into a mess. When she was finished gagging, Ailsa cried harder.
“I want to go home!” she wailed.
With a curt command from Tate, the wagon lurched to a halt and Stephen bailed from his charger, going in search of his medicament bag. Toby tried to clean up her sister.
“There, there,” she whispered softly. “You will be all right now.”
Tate had come to a halt next to the wagon, his storm cloud eyes watching Toby as she gently tended her sister. He hadn’t sufficient experience in matters of the heart to realize that he was seeing the woman through entirely different eyes; now, everything about her was completely different. He almost couldn’t remember that curt, aggressive woman he had first met at the church in Cartingdon. All he could see was the brave, compassionate soul.
Stephen approached with water and some manner of powder from his mysterious bag and together he and Toby managed to both calm and clean Ailsa. Stephen’s potion did wonders to soothe her stomach and her sister’s tender embrace soothed her tears.
With her sister calming, Toby looked up at Tate, still seated astride his charger and watching them closely. She smiled weakly.
“I fear we have caused you some delay,” she said quietly. “She has never been a good traveler.”
Tate waved her off. “We are nearly to Harbottle. ’Tis just over the hill and we shall have both you and your sister into a warm bed in little time.”
Toby’s smile faded, her eyes turning as if she could see the distant castle. “That would be welcome,” she murmured.
Tate watched her intently as she returned to comforting her sister. “How areyoufeeling?” he asked softly.
It took Toby a moment to realize he was asking the question of her. She lifted her shoulders. “Exhausted,” she admitted. “But well enough to.…”
She trailed off. Tate peered more closely at her.
“Well enough to what?” he encouraged.
She looked at her sister, her hands, anywhere but Tate’s probing eyes. “Nothing, my lord.”
“My lord, is it?” Tate grunted. “You have not called me ‘my lord’ for two days.”
“I have not been conscious for two days.”
He grunted again, a smile playing on his lips. “You will call me by my name. Now tell me what you were going to say.”
She looked up at him and he could see embers of the old fire within her brilliant hazel eyes, the Toby he had first met in Cartingdon. He knew that illness and devastation could not erase this woman’s spirit. She was too strong.
“I was going to say that I am well enough to return to Forestburn,” she said with more conviction. “I must see to the state of affairs if we are going to have any hope of regrouping.”
He had known all along that it would have been her desire; he just didn’t think she would voice it so soon. “Forestburn isashes,” he said quietly. “Give yourself time to recover before entertaining a return home.”
Toby’s lovely features tightened; he could see it even in the dark of the fog. “Forestburn may be ashes but my father’s farm still exists. There are still sheep to be shorn and harvests to be brought in. Simply because the manor burned does not mean the empire no longer exists. Too many people depend on us. They must know that all is not lost, that they have not been deserted.”
He expected nothing less from her but was not prepared to enter into what would undoubtedly be something of an argument. “Well,” he said after a moment, scratching beneath his hauberk where it chaffed. “Nothing will be settled this night. We are nearly to Harbottle and from there you can plot your next move. But for now, I would strongly suggest we make all due haste to reach my fortress and see what the morrow brings.”
“Iamreturning home.”
“I know.”
She eyed him as if daring him to challenge her. When she realized he had no intention of contradicting her, she backed down somewhat and refocused on her sister. Above her head, Tate and Stephen exchanged knowing glances; trying to keep her still long enough to recover her strength was going to be something of a chore.
Truth be told, Tate knew he did not have the heart to deny her. After what he had witnessed at the top of the stairs at Forestburn, he realized he would never be able to deny her anything ever again. Any woman that brave, that strong, deserved his undying support and loyalty. But it was more than that; beyond admiration and respect, he felt something more. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but it was lingering in the recesses of his mind just waiting for the moment to be unleashed. Every time he looked at her, he could feel himself drawing closer and closer to unhinging it.