Chapter Seventeen #2
Kenneth looked at Timothy, too; he was the only uncertain element in all of this and Kenneth still did not trust him. But at the moment, he had little choice.
Timothy, seeing that all eyes were upon him, nodded quickly. “He will not hear it from my lips, I swear it,” he said, indicating the cup in Toby’s hand. “Drink up, my lady. It is a nourishing brew.”
Toby put the cup to her lips and drank. Kenneth watched her, softening, understanding now why she had been so volatile. Over his initial terror, he realized that he was quite happy for Tate. He knew that the man would be thrilled. Standing up, he went over to Toby and took her free hand.
“Let me be the first to offer my congratulations to you and Tate,” he said sincerely. “I know he will be very pleased.”
She licked her lips of the slightly sweet brew. “Do you really think so?”
Kenneth nodded fervently and released her hand. “I do.”
A timid smile spread across her face. “I cannot wait to tell him.”
Kenneth met her smile and, taking the cup from her grasp, set it upon the vanity. He held out an elbow to her. “Unfortunately, you will have to,” he said. “But for now, Mortimer is waiting and we do not need to agitate the man. Come along.”
She took his arm and he led her to the door. Kenneth opened the panel and allowed her to pass through first. Timothy was right behind them. Before the little physic left the room, however, Kenneth growled at him.
“Be sure you honor your word,” he rumbled. “If you mention anything to Mortimer about this, they will never find your body, I swear it.”
Timothy blanched, looking at Kenneth as if the Devil himself had just threatened him.
But before he could reply, Kenneth quit the room and resumed his escort of Lady de Lara.
Timothy stood there a moment, struggling to compose himself; he didn’t doubt that the knight was sincere.
The man had not liked nor trusted him from the onset of his association with Lady de Lara.
But Timothy was becoming quite attached to the lady, far more attached than he was to Mortimer.
Still, he was sworn to the Earl of March.
It was where his loyalty was. But his friendship was rooted sentimentally to the lady.
Taking a deep breath for courage, Timothy followed.
*
The Earl of Suffolk was a tall, thin man with a receding hairline and a beak-like nose.
The moment Toby entered the room on Kenneth’s arm, the earl and Roger vied for her attention like two smitten schoolboys.
It infuriated the normally-calm Kenneth so much that Toby sent him to the opposite side of the room so he would not throttle them both.
Kenneth did as he was told, lingering in the shadows and shooting daggers with his ice-blue gaze.
Toby could feel his fury from the dais, hoping that Mortimer didn’t feel it also.
She sat between Suffolk and Mortimer, feeling their hot, smelly breath on her cheek as they talked non-stop.
Most of the chatter was pointless and boring and between themselves as they spoke over her, but several times they tried to engage her in conversation.
Her answers were short and disinterested, much to Mortimer’s displeasure.
She seemed preoccupied with everything in the room but the two of them.
The more she ignored him, the angrier Mortimer became.
When the meal was finished and the dogs were fighting over the bones, Toby continued to sit at the large dais, boxed in between Roger and de Ufford.
She stared straight ahead as they chatted over the swell of her bosom; she could only imagine the heated stares she was getting from both men but she refused to acknowledge them.
She could see Kenneth over near the hearth, lingering in the shadows, while Timothy sat at another table directly in front of her.
He kept wriggling his eyebrows at her and Toby struggled not to smile at him.
De Roche entered the hall at one point and stood several feet away from Kenneth, watching the man as Kenneth watched the dais.
It was the normal dynamics of their existence; being so close to each other had the seasoned knights highly attuned, ready to defend or attack at a moment’s notice.
De Roche wanted nothing more than to slip a dirk between Kenneth’s ribs and Kenneth wanted nothing more than to murder Mortimer and de Roche, in that order.
But they maintained their posts in silence until the relatively calm atmosphere of the room abruptly changed when Toby slapped de Ufford across the face.
It was the suggestive caress on her right thigh that set her off.
Toby’s instinctive reaction was to slap the man on her right as hard as she could and de Ufford was the recipient of a vicious whack to the face.
As he fell back, Toby leapt to her feet and grabbed her half-eaten trencher, smashing it over his head.
The man completely lost his balance and ended up sprawled on the floor.
Before Toby could further attack him, Mortimer had her by the arms.
“Lady de Lara,” he exclaimed. “You will behave yourself!”
She whirled on him furiously. “And you will control your associates, my lord,” she yanked her arms out of his grip. “Teach them not to touch another man’s wife and I will not have to teach them for you.”
Mortimer was so angry that he was white. He grabbed her by both wrists and yanked her up against him. “Enough of this,” he growled. “I told you what would happen if you did not cooperate.”
“I will not allow any man to take liberties with me, including your lascivious friends.”
“You will do whatever I wish. And it seems I must again teach you that lesson.”
By this time, Kenneth was on the move. He was already at the dais by the time Mortimer issued his threat and Toby saw him from the corner of her eye.
She knew that any backlash against her would fall on him and she was unwilling for the man to take the punishment for her outburst. She held out a hand to stop Kenneth’s advance and labored to calm herself as she faced Roger.
“No further lessons are necessary, my lord,” she said with more control than she felt. “But I will not permit another man to touch me. I do not consider that being uncooperative.”
Suffolk was off the floor by this time and reached out, grabbing Toby by the hair.
She screamed and swung around to strike him but Kenneth was already on the dais, grabbing Suffolk around the neck and driving his fist into his face.
The earl went sprawling and Kenneth grabbed Toby from Mortimer’s grasp, whisking her several feet away before Mortimer’s guards were upon him.
De Roche was suddenly in his path, blocking his exit, and he could advance no further.
With Toby in his protective embrace, Kenneth was trapped.
But he was fully prepared to fight to the death.
“Take St. Héver to the vault,” Mortimer hollered at de Roche. “Remove the man from my sight.”
Toby held on to Kenneth, terrified that if she let him go she would never see him again.
“Nay, my lord, please,” she gasped at Mortimer. “He was only protecting me. You cannot punish the man for doing his duty.”
“He struck the earl,” Mortimer pointed out succinctly. “He must pay the price.”
“I will pay the price,” Toby let go of Kenneth and went to Mortimer, her hands clasped in front of her as if praying to the man. “I struck the earl first. Please, my lord; you must not punish Sir Kenneth. I beg that you punish me instead. I was the one who started it; he was only doing his duty.”
Mortimer almost shouted at de Roche again to take St. Héver away, but a better thought occurred to him.
When Suffolk staggered to his feet again and tried to take another charge at Kenneth, Roger motioned to a couple of his men to see the earl from the hall.
As de Ufford was half-carried, half-escorted away, Mortimer turned back to Toby.
His anger was beginning to cool as he saw a way to turn the situation to his advantage.
He was, if nothing else, an opportunist.
“Very well, my lady,” he said calmly, after some deliberation. “I will, in fact, take you up on your offer. Your compliance will buy St. Héver’s life.”
Toby wasn’t stupid; she knew that Mortimer would extract a high price from her though she was not sure, exactly, what it would be.
She was a little too unworldly to imagine how high the price could soar.
In her mind, perhaps it would be supping with him nightly or entertaining him all day, every day.
Perhaps it would be something distasteful but not horrific. She could not have been more wrong.
“I will comply,” she agreed. “What are your terms?”
Mortimer took a step closer until he was literally breathing in her face. His dark eyes were deep and intense as he gazed into her almond-shaped eyes.
“One night with you,” he growled seductively. “One night with you and I will release St. Héver. He will be free to go.”
Toby stared at him, her eyes widening as she realized what he meant. She could hardly believe her ears and horror such as she had never known filled her breast. The mere thought made her want to vomit. She took a step back from him, her eyes bulging with disgust.
“Are you mad?” she hissed. “I am a married woman.”
Mortimer cocked an eyebrow before turning to de Roche again. “Take St. Héver to the vault,” he commanded. “He meets his death on the morrow.”
“Death?” Toby shrieked. “You cannot kill him!”
“He struck the Earl of Suffolk.”
“So did I. You must kill me also if that is your justice.”
Mortimer’s jaw flexed, grabbing her by the arm and whipping her against him. “One night and your knight goes free,” he snarled. “Refuse and he dies. Those are the terms.”