“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 toCartingdon,” 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 wasfeeling 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… youloveme?” 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.
“I have come into possession of some information you might find interesting,” Kenneth told him. “I have sent for Stephen. He should hear this, too.”
“What is wrong?” Tate demanded softly.