“Where is Toby?” Tate whispered behind him.
Kenneth turned slightly to speak, trying not to be obvious about it. “On the dais,” he muttered. “See her? Behind Mortimer?”
Tate was silent for a moment. “Aye,” he murmured, incredible gentleness suddenly in his tone. “I see her. Is she well?”
“Well enough.”
“Thank God.”
For a man whose entire nature revolved around an unflappable manner, Kenneth was very close to jumping out of his skin. He simply could not believe that Tate was here, disguised as the queen’s guard. Yet he should not have expected less; it was a cunning and logical plan. Kenneth’s gaze began to move around the room and he noticed Stephen on the opposite side of the hall; he should have recognized his tall frame right away. Familiar cornflower blue eyes gazed warmly at him. Nearer to the queen was Wallace, although he hardly recognized the man for he had cut his wild gray hair off. Kenneth was stunned.
“Get Toby out of here,” Tate whispered again behind him. “I do not care how you do it, but get her out of this room. Take her to the stables and I will meet you there.”
“That may not be so simple,” Kenneth muttered. “Mortimer keeps her close.”
“Now is the perfect time with his attention distracted by Isabella.”
Kenneth nodded once and moved away from Tate, skirting the room and paralleling the dais. He could see Toby sitting there, looking rather bored, and his heart began to pound harder. He moved closer, trying not to be conspicuous about it, as he finally slipped up behind her.
Toby was facing forward, watching Mortimer slobber all over Isabella’s hand as he told her how much he had missed her. The sight of it made her rather ill but it also emphasized her longing for Tate. She imagined that it was Tate holding her hand, telling her how much he missed her. Her heart began to ache with the thought and her mood turned dour, so much so that she was startled when she felt a tug on her skirt. She looked down to see a big hand tugging at it, turning slightly to realize that it was Kenneth.
“You are ill,” he whispered. “I must remove you from this hall immediately.”
She wasn’t following him. “I am fine.”
He lifted his blond eyebrows at her in a manner that suggested she not refute him. “You areill.I must take you out of here.”
Her brow furrowed. “I am…?”
“You are seriously ill. You cannot stay conscious any longer. You are dying, for Christ’s sake. Fall down already.”
Toby looked at him as if he had lost his mind but she understood his message. She wasn’t sure why she needed to leave but in reflection, it didn’t matter. Kenneth surely had a good reason. She did as she was told and, with dramatic flourish, went limp in the chair and toppled over.
Kenneth wasn’t prepared for her the swiftness of her act but caught her before she could strike her head on the chair next to her. He scooped her up into his arms, hoping he could get her free of the hall before anyone noticed. But Mortimer, in spite of his attentions on the queen, noticed almost immediately. All attention turned to Kenneth and Toby as the knight was thwarted from slipping out unaware.
“What is wrong with Lady de Lara?” Mortimer asked with great concern.
Kenneth shifted her in his arms so that her head wasn’t hanging up-side down. “I do not know, my lord,” he replied honestly. “Perhaps she is simply overwrought.”
Isabella’s gaze was intense on Toby as she moved past Roger, studying the lovely women passed out in Kenneth’s arms. All eyes were on the queen as she observed Toby’s face, her hands, her body. She was inspecting her, secretly satisfying herself on this woman who had managed to capture Tate’s heart. What she saw did not disappoint her.
“So this is Lady de Lara,” she murmured, reaching out as if to touch Toby’s hair but stopping just short of it. She glanced at Kenneth as she drew her hand away in an almost embarrassed gesture. “She is lovely. You must take her to rest immediately, of course.”
“Perhaps she needs a physic,” Roger said, suspicion in his eyes. He didn’t trust St. Héver not to run off with Lady de Lara but he could not do anything about it at the moment. “Perhaps I should send Timothy with you.”
“Or perhaps she simply needs to be left alone,” Isabella looked at Roger. “I suspect she has had more than enough company for the duration of her stay with you.”
It was a direct rebuke and Roger shut his mouth to any further protest. Kenneth didn’t wait for further debate and whisked Toby out of the hall, moving faster than he should have and praying that Roger did not become overly suspicious. Just as he neared the stairs, Timothy suddenly appeared.
“’Tis the excitement,” the physic was trying to get a look at the lady but Kenneth was being most evasive. “Mortimer has given her more than she can handle.”
Kenneth shifted Toby so that her head was against his shoulder, trying to keep the physic from getting too close. “She will be fine. She simply needs to rest.”
Timothy cocked an eyebrow at him. “I am the one who will determine her health, if you do not mind.”
Kenneth’s gaze didn’t waver. “Trust me; the lady is fine.”
Timothy ignored him, managing to put his fingers against Toby’s neck to feel a pulse. “Her heart feels strong enough.”