Chapter Ten #3
Along with the meow came a hissed curse. Startled, Toby realized that she must have fallen asleep as her eyes focused on Tate’s massive form in the darkness. She had never heard him enter. Instead of looking at her, however, he was peering at the cat.
“Where in the hell did that come from?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “I nearly sat on the beast.”
Toby struggled to sit up. “That is George,” she told him. “He was a gift.”
“A gift? From whom?”
“Sir Stephen,” she cuddled the cat, soothing it. “He gave him to me.”
Tate’s expression cooled; Toby could see that even in the darkness. “And you accepted?”
She could hear the hazard in his tone and all of her sleepiness fled. “You need not worry,” she said quietly. “He is under no false pretenses that my accepting the cat is in any way a prelude to courtship.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed with exasperation. “I told him that I was betrothed. I had to, Tate. He wanted to court me.”
The storm cloud eyes flashed. “Did he tell you that?”
Toby could see where the conversation was leading. Tate was growing angry and she did not want a blood bath on her hands. Moving the kitten aside, she patted the bed next to her.
“Sit down,” she commanded softly. “Please.”
He paused a moment before acquiescing to her wishes. He sat very close to her as she lay propped up on an elbow, his storm cloud eyes reflecting the soft firelight. Toby smiled up at him, putting her hand on his thigh.
“You need not worry about Stephen,” she said quietly.
“He knows that you and I are betrothed. He understands that there is no chance for him. I asked him if he wanted the cat returned, but he said that it was a gift. There is no harm in keeping a kitten given to me by a man you have clearly triumphed over. ’Twould be right for you to be a gracious winner and allow me to keep it. ”
He just stared at her. Then, he gave her a lopsided smile and picked up the hand on his thigh, kissing it. “Well put,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “I knew that Stephen would assert himself sooner or later. I suppose it is best if the rejection comes from you and not me.”
She regarded him closely, seeing something of disquiet on his brow. “You are concerned for him,” she ventured.
He shrugged, lowering his gaze. “I have known Stephen for many years and consider him a friend,” he toyed with her hand. “I realize that I was somewhat cold to him the other day when I found him up here with you, but I wanted him to understand that you are off limits.”
“Perhaps you should have simply told him.”
He nodded reluctantly. “Perhaps,” he said softly. “I was hoping he would understand without a word spoken. Perhaps I just did not want to verbalize it. A woman has never come between us before.”
“One still hasn’t.”
He cast her a sidelong glance, his grin broadening. “I hope not. I should regret it.”
“Then perhaps you should speak to him as a friend and not a rival. A few words might ease whatever disappointment or animosity he is feeling.”
He nodded slowly. “Wise words. I suppose I should have handled this situation differently from the beginning but it is something I have never experienced before.”
She smiled at him. “I am glad.”
“For what?”
“That you have never experienced a situation like this before.”
He laughed softly, kissing her fingers. They fell silent a moment and he began toying with her digits, inspecting her lovely hand.
She had the prettiest hands. Toby watched him as he rubbed the soft skin of her palm, a pensive expression on his face.
She knew he was still thinking about Stephen and she, too, hoped no permanent damage would result from them both wanting to court the same woman.
“He says that you are a fortunate man, you know,” she said softly.
“Who?”
“Stephen.”
He kissed her hand again. “I agree completely.” He wanted to shift the subject off of Stephen. “I regret not having seen you most of the day. I missed you a great deal.”
She felt warmed, giddy, by his declaration. “You did? I missed you also. But I kept busy.”
“Is that so?” he shifted so that his arms were braced on either side of her slender body. “What did you do all day?”
“Went through the trunks you brought from Forestburn.”
“And?”
“And I am missing most of my winter clothing. No cloaks or warm things. With this weather, I am afraid that I shall freeze.”
He nodded in understanding. “I apologize. I grabbed what I could find.”
She reached up and touched his cheek. “I know that,” she said. “I did not mean to criticize. It simply means that I must obtain some winter fabric very soon.”
“Of course,” he nodded. “We can go tomorrow.”
“Go where?”
“Into the village. There are a few merchants there, or at least there were. Hopefully they did not run off when Mortimer’s army invaded.”
Toby nodded, not at all pressed to admit she was looking forward to a shopping trip with Tate. She watched him as he played with her fingers, inspecting the skin and acquainting himself with the texture. He seemed preoccupied and weary. Finally, she gave a squeeze.
“Are you going to tell me why you came to see me?” her eyes were twinkling when he looked at her. “It was not simply to sit on my kitten, was it?”
He relaxed into an easy grin. “Nay,” he said, seeming to hunt for the correct words. Finally he shrugged. “I suppose I simply wanted to see you. I cannot explain it, but you have been on my mind all day and I could think of nothing else but to see you.”
She flushed sweetly. “I am honored,” she said. “And, I will admit, surprised.”
He put her hand against his lips as he spoke. “Why?”
She was having a difficult time concentrating on her train of thought as his lips gently nibbled her flesh.
“Because it was only a few days ago that we were at Forestburn and things between us were quite different. A world of difference, in fact; I am still coming to grips with the fact that we are betrothed. And the offer came from a man who openly insulted me when we first met.”
His mouth was still against her hand. “I did no such thing.”
She nodded emphatically. “Aye, you did. You told me that beauty and bad manners were a family trait and that, unfortunately, one trait negates the other.”
He just stared at her. Then he burst out laughing. “Do you memorize everything I say?”
“I have an astounding memory.”
“No doubt,” he sobered, shaking his head. “I shall have to watch what I say around you if you do not easily forget.”
She was smiling in spite of herself, watching the expression on his face. “Nay, I do not forget,” she said softly, her smile fading. “Would you mind, then, telling me what changed your mind about me?”
He cocked a dark eyebrow in mock exasperation. “Must you know everything?”
“I must.”
He was amused. “Suffice it to say that your trait of beauty negated the trait of bad manners. And so did your traits of bravery, intelligence and compassion.”
She watched him as he rubbed his cheek against the back of her hand.
Now that they were communicating easily, there were many more questions she wanted to ask him.
She was suddenly wildly curious to know more about him, this man who would be her husband.
When she thought about it, they’d never had a moment to truly sit and come to know each other.
Everything had been in passing or during a crisis. But now, there was time.
“Will you be truthful with me?” she asked timidly.
“I will always be truthful with you. Lying is not in my nature.”
She was sobering, growing serious. “Will you please tell me if the rumors about you are true?”
“What rumors are those?”
“That you are Longshank’s son?”
His smile faded, an odd look coming to his eye. “Does it matter?”
“It does not. But I would like to know the truth.”
He sighed faintly, somehow moving closer to her in the process. There was a lengthy pause, during which time Toby watched his expression as he pondered her question. She held her breath, wondering if he was going to answer her. Finally, he opened his mouth.
“Since we are betrothed, I suppose it is your right to know,” he said. “Aye, he was my father. I was his firstborn son, born exactly one month before his heir, Edward the Second.”
Toby struggled not to openly react to what she had always been told. Still, to hear it from his lips was something of a revelation.
“And your mother? Was she really a Welsh princess?”
He nodded slowly. “From all accounts, she and my father were very much in love,” he began stroking her shoulder, his hand trailing down her arm.
“Her name was Dera. She was the youngest daughter of Dafydd ap Gruffydd and she met my father when Dafydd and Edward were briefly allied against Dafydd’s brother, Llewelyn, Prince of Wales.
Their love affair was brief, resulting in my conception, and when my mother perished in childbirth, Dafydd turned me over to my father for fear that Llewelyn would somehow harm me.
My father gave me over to the great Marcher Lords of de Lara to raise when I was still an infant, hence the name I carry is de Lara. ”
“But you are a prince on both sides of your family, not simply a knight.”
He shrugged. “I would be proud to be a mere knight, but by virtue of my birth, I am slightly more. The Harbottle Commons lordship is only the beginning.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “The beginning? I do not understand.”
He drew in a long, thoughtful breath. “Along with Harbottle, I hold title to the baronetcies of Workington and Consett as well as the title Viscount Whitehaven, Lord Protector of Cumbria. I am also the Earl of Carlisle.”
Toby couldn’t help it; her eyes widened. “You are an earl?”
“That is a recent title.”
Her mouth flew open; she slapped a hand over it so she wouldn’t look like an idiot. Tate acted as if it was truly nothing to be shocked over and took her hand back, just so he could kiss it again. The storm cloud colored eyes glittered.