Chapter Eighteen #2
“I was ordered to bring you here,” he told her as they faced each other in the dim stable light.
She scowled at him. “Who on earth ordered you to bring me out here?” she demanded, rubbing at her arms. “I am cold. The least you can do is go and get my cloak if you are going to make me wait outside.”
“You will survive. That dress is warm enough.”
She growled. “Go get my cloak, I say. And bring me some warmed wine as well. I shall catch my death of chill out here and it will be your fault.”
“Good lord; have you been ordering Kenneth about like that all along?”
It was a familiar voice that didn’t register with Toby right away.
Tate abruptly swung around the corner and into the stalls, almost plowing into his wife because she was standing so close to the door.
Toby screamed at the suddenness of his appearance, tripping over her own feet.
She would have fallen had Tate not reached out to grab her.
She screamed again, startled by his grip, startled by the face, but only for a moment; when she realized her husband was standing before her, she threw her arms around his neck so tightly that she hit him in the throat with her rush.
Tate coughed a joyous cough from his bruised Adam’s apple as he wrapped his mailed arms around Toby tightly enough to crush her.
“My God,” Toby couldn’t catch her breath. “My God, my God, my God!”
She seemed incapable of saying anything else at the moment.
Tate laughed softly, his face in her hair, feeling tears sting his eyes.
He was so emotional he could hardly control it.
He took a moment to breath in her scent; she smelled like roses.
Then the kisses started and he kissed her face furiously, listening to her gasp with delight.
“What…,” she asked, interrupted when he kissed her soft mouth, “are you doing here? How did you get here?”
He didn’t want to answer any foolish questions at the moment; he just wanted to taste her, hold her, and convince himself that she was real. His hands moved to cup her face, swallowing up her entire head with his enormous grip. He just stared at her, drinking her in.
“Are you well, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice trembling. “The missive I received from Mortimer said that you had been injured.”
There were tears in Toby’s eyes as she gazed back at him. “I fell off the horse and broke three ribs,” she told him. “But I am as good as new.”
He sighed heavily, one hand moving to touch her torso as if to convince himself that she was indeed in one piece. It brought him more relief than he could have imagined.
“Thank God,” he murmured. Then he took her by the arms and looked her in the eye. “You foolish woman; you could have been killed with what you did. What in the world possessed you to lure those soldiers out of Harbottle?”
The tears in her eyes spilled over. “I could not let them find you. I was terrified they were going to kill you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead, her temple, listening to her sniffle. “It was very brave of you but very foolish. I was so… well, it does not matter. All that matters is that you are well. And Mortimer… he has been a respectful to you? He has not harmed or touched you?”
She wiped at her eyes. “Not yet,” she didn’t know why she suddenly felt so weak and frightened. “But he has been using Kenneth to ensure my behavior. I refused to do his bidding once and he beat Kenneth. He has not done it again so far, but he has threatened.”
Tate tore his eyes off her long enough to look at St. Héver; the big blond knight’s gaze was steady, as if there was nothing amiss. But Tate knew Kenneth well enough to know that the man would never react or complain about any personal offense against him.
“Is this true?” he asked Kenneth, pulling Toby tightly against him once more.
Kenneth cleared his throat softly, glancing at Toby before replying.
“It was not that bad,” he said, wanting the focus off of him.
“He did, however, make a pact with your wife shortly before your arrival. He told Lady de Lara that he would kill me if she did not spend one night with him in the conjugal sense.”
Tate’s nostrils flared as he looked at his wife. Toby nodded emphatically. “The queen’s arrival interrupted his plans, thank God. But he seemed to know that you had sent her.”
“How did he know that?”
“I do not know. But when he was told the queen was approaching, he looked at me and said ‘Dragonblade’”.
Tate fell silent a moment, his arms around his wife, his cheek against the top of her head. It felt so good just to hold her again even though he knew they were not out of danger yet. He could not relax. After a pensive moment, he sighed heavily.
“It was Isabella’s idea to disguise me as one of her own guard to gain access to the castle,” he said softly. “Stephen and Wallace are here also.”
“I know,” Kenneth replied. “I saw them both. Where is the king?”
Tate lifted an eyebrow. “Safe,” he replied vaguely. “More importantly, there is a ten-thousand-man army a mile to the south, awaiting my command to unleash on Wigmore.”
Toby looked at him with shock. “Ten thousand men?” she repeated. “Why are they here?”
Tate rubbed her arms affectionately. “When I received Mortimer’s message, my first thought was to raise an army bigger than anything England has ever seen.
I was prepared to raze Wigmore and destroy everything, and everyone, in my path in order to gain you back.
” He sighed, watching the fear in her eyes.
“But when my fury cooled, I knew that the one person who had the best chance of securing your release was Isabella. She holds much power over Mortimer. So I went to see her in London.”
“That is why you did not come for me right away?” Toby was beginning to understand.
“Exactly. As much as I wanted to rush to Wigmore, I knew I had to lay my plans well against Mortimer. The man is no fool.”
She gazed up at him, feeling foolish for ever doubting him. “So what now?”
He shrugged. “Isabella will order him to let you go.”
“It is that simple?”
“If he wants to retain his life it is.”
“What if he does not?”
“Then I raze Wigmore and him with it. I will destroy him.”
His voice had taken on a deadly tone. Toby held him tightly, not wanting to let him go. “Take me from here now,” she begged. “Why can you not take me out this moment?”
In truth, Tate hadn’t anticipated seeing her the moment they arrived and he surely did not anticipate having her in his arms in the privacy of the stables. Now that he had her, he had absolutely no intention of letting her out of his sight. He had what he came for.
“Perhaps I can,” he smiled warmly at her. “Perhaps it is as easy as that.”
“If you are going to do it, you had better do it now,” Kenneth told him seriously. “Mortimer is quite fond of your wife. Queen or no, he will be looking for her eventually. You will need time to get clear of this place before he realizes she is gone.”
Tate’s smoky eyes glittered. “I will take her back to the army but then I plan to return,” he said. “I intend to have a serious discussion with Mortimer about his abduction of my wife.”
Toby tugged on him. “It does not matter.” She didn’t want Tate engaging Mortimer in any manner of conflict; not now when they were so close to freedom. “You do not need to confront him. I am whole and sound and he has not touched me. Please, Tate, let us leave this place and never look back.”
As he gazed into her frightened face, he realized that his vengeance, at the moment, was the most important thing on his mind.
He realized that it had always been the most important thing on his mind save his wife’s reclamation.
He wanted to punish Mortimer for taking Toby.
He very much wanted to make the man pay for his sins.
It wasn’t even about king or crown any longer; Mortimer had attacked him personally and Tate would not stand for it. His pride, his family, was at stake.
But as he held Toby in his arms, he realized that vengeance was futile.
It was a waste of his strength and attention.
He had his wife and that was all that truly mattered, but it was difficult to fight off the lingering need for justice.
He struggled to refocus on the task of getting her out of Wigmore; his mind raced through the queen’s escort in the ward, the strength of the men he saw upon the battlements and the state of the main gates the last time he saw them.
If they were closed, it would make his escape far more difficult.
But the last he saw, they were open. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a horse blanket that was laying over one of the stall partitions.
Tate swung the blanket around Toby’s shoulders for both protection and a disguise. She stood out brilliantly in her pale gown and he needed to make her less conspicuous. He smiled at her when she looked puzzled by the action.
“Kenneth,” he said as he secured the blanket around her shoulders. “Return to the hall and locate Stephen and Wallace. Have them meet us in the bailey. We are taking Elizabetha home.”
Kenneth nodded shortly, feeling a tremendous sense of relief. He turned on his heel and quit the stable, his mind focused on finding Stephen and Wallace. But just as he exited the door, heading into the stable yard, a body was waiting for him. And that body drove a broadsword into Kenneth’s torso.
Kenneth fell to his knees as de Roche removed the blade, bringing it up for Tate, who was just emerging from the stable.
Toby screamed as she saw the flash of the blade a split second before Tate pushed her out of the way.
Tate jumped back as well but not far enough; the tip of the broadsword sliced him across the collarbone and down his chest. It was a nasty gash but not deadly.
Giving Toby a shove back into the stables, Tate unsheathed the broadsword at his side and launched into a full offensive against de Roche.