Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (40 page)

“What baby?” he
demanded in an uncharacteristic burst.

Timothy looked at him
with surprise. “She did not tell you?” he clucked softly. “Our lovely lady is
pregnant, knight. You do not think that her outbursts and tantrums have been
the mark of her normal disposition, do you? Lady de Lara is expecting. We must
take great care of her now.”

Kenneth looked at
Toby, who gazed back at him somewhat fearfully. He just stared at her, a
million thoughts rolling through his head. He began to look unsteady.

“Does Mortimer know?”
he asked, his tone oddly tight.

Toby shook her head,
wary of his reaction. “Of course not.”

Kenneth did a very
strange thing then; he exhaled loudly and sought the nearest chair as if all of
his strength had suddenly left him. As he sat heavily, his ice-blue eyes fixed
on her in shock.

“Toby, you have no
idea…,” he trailed off, regrouping his thoughts.  He was, frankly, reeling.
“God’s Blood, are you sure?”

She sensed that he
wasn’t entirely happy to hear her news. If he wasn’t happy, then perhaps Tate
would not be happy. She suddenly felt awful about it and began to blink rapidly
as her eyes started to well again.

“Fairly sure,” she was
beginning to sniffle, a prelude to bursting into tears. “Why? What’s wrong? Why
do you look so?”

Kenneth didn’t want to
frighten her but he was, in fact, frightened himself. 
Tate’s legacy.
 
Of course, he was thrilled for Tate but he was also terrified. If Mortimer knew
of Lady de Lara’s pregnancy, then he feared the dynamics of the situation would
change dramatically. Not only would de Lara’s wife be captive, but she could
quite possibly have the child in captivity. Then Mortimer would have Tate’s
entire family to bargain with. Tate had already lost one wife and child;
Kenneth knew, as he lived and breathed, that Tate would not lose another.

“I am sorry,” he
struggled to compose himself. “I did not mean to frighten you.  But you must
understand the seriousness of this situation.  Mortimer must not know that you
carry Tate’s child.”

She sniffled. “I did
not plan to tell him.”

He was glad she had
not asked for more of an explanation; it would have frightened her further and
he was trying very hard not to upset her. “Good,” he sighed. “You must adhere
to that vow. It is important.”

“I will,” she was
giving him a pouting face. “But why?”

So much for not having
to explain his reasons to her. “Because Mortimer will use the child against
Tate just as he is using you,” he tried not to sound too intense. “What man
would not risk everything for his wife and child?”

Her face darkened,
somewhere between guilt and anger. “He would not harm the baby, would he?”

“Nay. But Tate would
risk his life for you both. The harm, if any, would come to Tate.”

 She looked as if she
was about to cry again but steeled herself. Naïve as she was about war and
politics, she was getting a very quick lesson on the brutality of warfare.
Fortunately, she was a good student. She understood the seriousness of the
situation.

“We must keep this
secret very safe, then,” she looked at Timothy, the earl’s physic. “You will
not tell him, of course.”

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.”

Toby was beyond
horrified; she couldn’t even imagine what type of man would make such a
bargain. Her breathing began to come in heavy pants as she stared at him,
finally turning to look at Kenneth. The knight was gazing steadily at her, his
ice-blue eyes intense.