CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was adark and cold night. A few weeks ago, Toby had spent the night lying on her back with aching ribs, with Kenneth sitting next to her vigilantly. Tonight, it was different; it was she who was sitting next to Kenneth vigilantly. The man was sleeping soundly thanks to a potion given to him by one of the barber-surgeons belonging to Liam de Lara. She’d not yet met Tate’s adoptive brother but she was sure she would at some point. At this moment, however, she frankly did not care. She only wanted to see her husband, safe and sound, and no one else.
The tears had been falling most of the night. Every time she thought of Tate standing strong against the horde of Mortimer’s men, she dissolved into quiet tears again. She prayed continuously that it would not be her last glimpse of her husband alive. As she listened to Kenneth’s heavy breathing, she wiped the silent tears that fell, scared and feeling very much alone.
They were all waiting for Tate; all ten thousand men. Toby had never seen so many people in her life as she and Kenneth had ridden into camp. They had been taken right away to an empty tent where Kenneth’s wound had been tended. Men had brought food and drink, and several knights she had never seen before had come to talk to Kenneth about Tate’s whereaboutsand the current status of Wigmore. The men had ignored her until Kenneth had introduced her as Lady de Lara. Then, it was as if they could not do enough for her; food, furs, and warm things were sent to her in droves. She had piles of it. But all she wanted was her husband and he was nowhere, as of yet, to be found. As the minutes of the dark night ticked away, Toby slipped deeper and deeper into anguish.
It had been a long night with her turbulent thoughts. As she sat next to Kenneth, she noticed that the eastern horizon was beginning to turn shades of pink. She could see it through a crack in the tent opening. The new day was dawning and still no Tate. She finally lost her battle against despair and she lowered her head, weeping softly as dawn began to break. The next thing she realized, a warm hand was grasping her fingers gently. Toby looked up to see that Kenneth was holding on to her, a warm grip the only comfort he could give. She squeezed his fingers tightly and wept louder.
“Do not despair, my lady,” he murmured thickly; the physic’s sleeping potion was still at work. “He shall return. You must have faith.”
She wiped at her eyes, unable to give up the tears completely. “But I am so frightened. There were so many soldiers….”
“I know,” he squeezed her fingers. “But he always finds a way to survive. He has since I have known him. But he has more of a reason to survive than ever before; he has you now. Have faith that he will find his way back to you.”
She nodded although the tears still fell. As she wiped her cheeks again, the tent flap opened and a tall figure entered. Startled, Toby wiped at her face quickly, turning to see who it was.
An older man in well used armor came into the weak light of the vizier, a timid smile on his face. He was a big man with dark blond hair that was graying at the temples. His clear blue eyesfound Toby where she sat next to Kenneth. When he saw that she was looking at him, he nodded his head at her.
“My lady,” he had a soft, deep voice. “I am Liam de Lara. I apologize that I have not had the chance to introduce myself before now. It would seem that you and I are family.”
Toby gazed up at the man; he was handsome and square-jawed. He was also one of the more powerful marcher lords with his family going back before the time of the Conqueror.
“My lord,” she greeted.
By this time, Kenneth had opened his eyes and focused on the baron. Liam went to Kenneth’s other side, taking a knee beside the injured knight.
“St. Héver,” he patted the man’s shoulder. “I have no idea why you lay here. You could have both arms and legs cut off and still ride into battle. Surely a stronger man has never lived.”
Kenneth grunted. “I am not really injured.”
“No?”
“’Tis all a ploy to gain sympathy.”
Liam laughed softly, displaying nice white teeth and slightly prominent canines. “I have absolutely none to give you,” he replied, glancing up at the very lovely lady sitting next to him. “And this lady is married to my brother, so you are wasting your time if you are trying to gain her favor.”
Kenneth actually grinned, looking at Toby. “Your brother has her attention quite captivated,” he replied. “Moreover, her only interest in me is ordering me about. Perhaps I feign injury so she will leave me alone.”
In spite of her emotional state, Toby could not help but grin. She smacked him gently on the shoulder. “You are a lout,” she scolded softly, looking at Liam. “Just so you are aware, if I were to order him up at this moment to do my bidding, he would rise from his deathbed in order to see my wishes fulfilled. The man is as loyal as a dog.”
Liam laughed softly again. “I know this to be true,” he looked back to Kenneth. “My physic tells me that you will survive. He says the puncture is deep but that it did not hit anything vital.”
Kenneth nodded wearily. “I should be fine by tomorrow.”
Liam just shook his head; the man meant every word. He had known St. Héver for years and the man was virtually immortal. Nothing could get him down for long. But he could feel Toby’s gaze on him and he looked over at her, seeing the red-rimmed eyes. He knew how frightened she was and he wished he had better news to offer her.
“Have you heard anything of my husband?” Toby asked him before he could speak.
Liam could see the strength within the woman with just that question. She had an unwavering manner about her, besides the fact that she was enormously beautiful. It was his first exposure to her and he could see what his brother found attractive in the lady right away. He shook his head to her question.
“Not a word, my lady,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we will very soon. Mortimer cannot keep quiet for long.”
She nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Where is Edward?”
“I am told that the king is asleep.”
“He has not yet come to see me.”