Chapter Eighteen
Early August
Trelystan Castle
Emberley heard Lord de Lara hooting, suspecting one or more of her children was involved with the origination of the sound before she even saw the man.
She was scooting down the exterior stairs of Trelystan castle, coming from the enormous keep that was shaped like a giant square box.
She had Lacy in her arms, searching for her errant sons who had run off when she was dressing the baby.
She had told them not to wander far but, alas, that was too much to ask.
Trelystan was a vast place of new discoveries, secret passages and stairs that led to mysterious places and her boys were determined to explore every inch of it.
As she came off the stairs into the vast, muddy bailey, she could hear more hooting and she followed the sounds.
It had rained the night before and the ground was slippery as she made her way around the keep and ended up in the stable yards, which were upslope on the hill that Trelystan had been built on.
Ahead, she could see her three boys running circles around Lord de Lara, smacking him on the legs and backside with their wooden swords.
“Misfits!” the old man was crying. “You are hooligans and misfits!”
Emberley gathered the skirt of her surcoat as she picked up the pace. Dressed in a coat of faded dark blue that emphasized her voluptuous figure, the gold tasseled belt swung in rhythm to her quick steps as she rushed towards the scene.
“Boys,” she called. “Stop this instant. I told you what would happen if you assaulted Lord de Lara again.”
The boys came to a confused halt, as did Lord de Lara. Upon closer inspection, the old man was laughing. He was enjoying every minute of the roughhousing.
“’Tis of no issue, Lady de Moyon,” he assured her. “The boys are doing no harm.”
Emberley lifted an eyebrow at his graceful lie. In her arms, Lacy squirmed to be set down and she set the little girl carefully onto the muddy ground.
“They were swatting you with their swords,” she looked at the three little faces staring back at her. “They have been warned. Gart told them to behave and they promised.”
“We are behaving, Mama,” Orin insisted. “We were playing.”
Emberley gazed reproachfully at her son. “You were hitting Lord de Lara with your sword,” she scolded. “That is not playing.”
“Truly, Lady de Moyon, it was all in fun,” Lord de Lara reiterated. “It has been a long time since children have been at play here at Trelystan and from the way my sons are conducting their lives, who is to say there will ever be children here again? Please do not deny me the joy of it.”
She smiled at the old man. “My lord, you have been an incredibly gracious host but I am not sure that includes allowing yourself to be pummeled by your young guests.”
Lord de Lara’s grin broadened, a vague resemblance to his son. “Kevin and Sean used to rig traps for me to walk in to,” he told her. “I would exit a room and run straight into a noose around my foot. I cannot tell you the times that my sons felled me to the ground with one of their traps.”
Emberley held her up hands to shush him. “Quiet,” she whispered loudly. “If my boys hear that, they will want to make traps, too, and no one will be safe.”
Lord de Lara laughed, as did Emberley. Bored with standing around, Romney, Orin and Brendt began fighting each other with their toy swords as Lacy toddled after them, screaming because she wanted to play with their toys also.
Emberley stood with Lord de Lara, watching the children play in the muddy yard.
“I want to thank you again for having us at Trelystan,” she said, turning to the man. “Your son was extremely gracious to suggest it and you are extremely gracious to allow it. I am not sure how we can ever repay you but rest assured that we will always be in your debt.”
Lord de Lara eyed the woman, studying her exquisite profile.
She was an exceptionally beautiful woman with a kind manner and warm sense of humor.
They had spent some time together intermittently over the past two weeks, and more time together since the departure of Gart Forbes.
Lord de Lara knew the story – that the lady was fleeing from her brutal husband who was, in fact, having an affair with Queen Isabella.
He felt deeply sorry for the woman, more now that he was coming to know her and her spirited children.
Even though he had a long-standing hatred of the king, he still felt strongly compelled to protect them all.
“Your gratitude is sufficient, my lady,” he assured her. “I do not consider that you owe me a debt. Your company, and the company of your children, is payment enough. I live a lonely life so the advent of guests is welcome. I will miss all of you when you leave.”
She turned to look at him, smiling. “We may be here for quite some time,” she teased gently. “You may be quite eager to be rid of us by the time Gart returns.”
Lord de Lara snorted softly, shaking his head. “I may beg him to let you stay.”
Emberley maintained her smile at the old man, her gaze moving to her children once again when Brendt slipped in the mud and let out a yell. She sighed as she watched the boy try to pick himself up from the slime.
“Gart has been gone for quite some time,” she said pensively. “I hope he has not run into trouble.”
Even as she said it, she thought on the irony of that statement and felt foolish for voicing her thoughts.
The trouble that Gart was facing was monumental and she hung her head a moment, fighting off the depression and loneliness that she felt.
Every day since he had been gone had been a struggle for her.
She woke in an empty bed, thinking of Gart’s warm and powerful body next to hers, missing him more than she could express.
She’d never experienced such a thing in her life and was unsure how to gracefully deal with it. Every day without him was like torture.
Emberley forced herself to face the days without him, focused on her children, focused on Gart’s return.
He had only been gone four days when she began looking for his return, perched in her bower with a view of the southern road that he had taken to London and watching the dusty path day after long day.
Sometimes people were traveling upon it and she would wait with bated breath, watching the ant-like figures in the distance as they passed by Trelystan.
Always, they passed the castle by, and her depression deepened when she realized another day would pass without him.
As her mind was swamped with thoughts of Gart, Lord de Lara watched her rippling expressions. He was a man unused to womenfolk, as his own wife had died when his sons had been very small, so it was difficult for him to know how to comfort Lady de Moyon during this difficult time. Still, he tried.
“Have faith, my lady,” he told her. “I am sure Forbes will return soon.”
Emberley glanced at him, a small but grateful smile on her face.
Over to their right, the boys were hacking away at each other and all of them had managed to slip down into the mud.
Emberley looked at her children, knowing she was going to have a messy group of children to clean up.
Even the baby was muddy as she played with Brendt’s little, wooden shield, stolen from her brother as he had wallowed on the ground.
Puffing out her cheeks with a heavy sigh, she headed off towards her children with the intention of pulling them out of the mud and back into the keep where she could clean the muck off of them.
Although dust, dirt and all things slovenly were a natural part of life and most people didn’t worry about the degree of their cleanliness, Emberley didn’t like for her children to be dirty.
She didn’t think it was particularly healthy for them to wallow in dirt like the animals and she had an odd preoccupation with keeping them clean.
Like Gart, she wasn’t fond of dirty clothing.
So she hauled Brendt out of the mud by an arm, listening to him whine when he realized his mother was about to scald him with another bath.
She captured Lacy as well, lifting the little girl onto her hip as she called to Romney and Orin, telling them to follow her into the keep.
The older boys complied somewhat but Lord de Lara was still standing there, still a target, and they raced at them with their swords to smack him.
De Lara accused them of being vicious and powerful men and begged for mercy, which puffed the boys up with arrogance.
Emberley, fighting off a grin, simply shook her head.
In her opinion, which she would never voice, Lord de Lara was begging for trouble. Like Gart, he loved it.
As she corralled her errant children, both Emberley and Lord de Lara were oblivious to the group of riders approaching Trelystan’s massive gatehouse.
They were too busy trying to capture Romney and Orin as the boys ran about like wild animals.
Neither boy wanted to go inside the keep and would have kept running had their mother not brought Gart’s name into the mix.
That seemed to get their attention. As Emberley finally collared the boys with the all-powerful Gart threat, the riders heading in from the southern road reached Trelystan’s gatehouse and were admitted.