Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (16 page)

He stood in the
doorway, his massive hands resting on narrow hips as he surveyed the room. “I
left you two sleeping,” he said with mock sternness. “Whose bright idea was it
to rise and go to work?”

He was looking
directly at Toby.  With a sheepish grin, she brushed the hair off her forehead
and stood up.

“It would do no good
to refute you so I must therefore confess,” she said as she moved towards him,
flint still in her fingers. “I am the slave master. Ailsa is accustomed to it.”

Tate’s lips twitched
as he focused on her lovely face; she appeared much better than she had earlier
in the day. In fact, there was even a bit of color to her cheeks. She was
starting to look like the woman he had first met at Forestburn, beautiful and
composed and strong. He realized, as he looked at her, that his heart was doing
strange things against his ribs.

“You have a brutal
streak in you, mistress,” he winked at her as he looked at Ailsa. “And you,
young woman; I suppose that you are hungry?”

Ailsa nodded eagerly.
“I am famished.”

“And your cruel sister
is working a starving girl?”

Ailsa grinned, looking
at Toby as she spoke. “She does it all of the time.”

Tate cocked an eyebrow
as Ailsa giggled and put the broom aside.  “We will have no more of that,” he
told Toby in a quiet growl, all the while his gaze raking over her lovely face.
“Supper is served in the great hall and I insist you allow your sister to eat
before you drive her into service.”

Toby coyly shrugged,
moving back to the hearth to set the flint stone back where she found it. “If
you insist,” she said, sitting the stone aside and brushing her hands off on
her surcoat.  “Am I permitted to eat also?”

“Only if you swear to
never again abuse your power.”

“I cannot swear it.”

Ailsa giggled again
and went to take Tate’s hand. She held it tightly as Tate had eyes only for her
sister.

“I can force you to
swear it, you know,” he told Toby.

“You can try, my lord.
But I do not surrender easily.”

Tate tried to hold
back the smile but found he could not. Teeth flashing, he shook his head in
submission. “I believe that. God help me, I believe it implicitly.” He held out
his free arm to her. “Would you come with me, then, and we may discuss it
further over supper?”

Toby took the offered
elbow. “My surrender is non-negotiable.”

“We shall see about
that.”

Ailsa was the first
one through the door, still clutching Tate’s hand tightly, but Tate and Toby
were sharing a private glance between them. It was an enchanted moment; the
mood was lighter than it had been in days. With Ailsa still tugging on him,
Tate leaned into Toby so he could speak softly and not be overheard by little
ears.

“To be truthful, I do
not wish to discuss your surrender,” he said quietly. “Could we not speak on
more pleasant things?”

He was very near and
Toby was having difficulty breathing. “Like what?” she asked breathlessly.

“Like Paris in the
spring and our future trip to Rome.”

Toby smiled broadly,
remembering those subjects from their very first in-depth conversation. “So you
still intend to escort me to those places, I take it?” she asked.

“I told you that I
would.”

“You said you would do
it only if I did not find a husband to take me.”

“That is what we will
discuss.”

Toby’s smile faded and
she stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. He gave her a bold wink,
lifting the hand that gripped his elbow and kissing her fingers sweetly.  Toby
was so upswept in his last statement and subsequent kiss that she could hardly form
a coherent thought.  Was it possible he meant what she thought he meant? Or was
she simply reading too much in to his kindness?

As Toby and Tate lost
themselves in each other’s eyes, Ailsa let go of Tate’s hand as they neared the
narrow stairs. She skipped around, telling her sister to mind the stairs that
were narrow and treacherous. But she apparently did not listen to her own
advice; before Tate could grab her, Ailsa slipped on the top step and fell,
screaming, down the entire shaft.

And then… silence.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Her skull was smashed
by the fall, Tate,” Stephen said grimly. “There was nothing I could do.  Even I
cannot bring back the dead.”

“I know,” Tate raked
his fingers through his dark hair. “I did not mean to question your skills. 
All I want to know is if there was ever a chance to save her.”

Stephen shook his head
wearily. “Nay,” he said hoarsely. “She was dead by the time she reached the
bottom of the stairs. There was never any hope.”

Tate’s expression was
taut with grief as he stood with Stephen in the hall outside of the master’s
chamber. Kenneth stood slightly behind him and Edward was near the chamber
door, his brown eyes swimming with tears as he gazed into the dimly lit room.  

The four of them were
entrenched in the unexpected tragedy, the shock of a little life cut short. The
three knights, having been trained to control their emotions, were nonetheless
having a difficult time concealing what they felt. Young Edward was positively
beside himself. They had all been fond of little Ailsa, like a breath of fresh
air in the midst of their hellish mission, and her accidental death was a dark
and cutting thing. 

By the door, Edward
wiped furiously at the tears in his eyes. “Mistress Toby is just sitting there,
holding her and crying,” he said painfully. “Is there nothing to be done?”

The three knights
looked at the young lad. “What would you have us do?” Stephen asked quietly.
“Ailsa is dead. We cannot bring her back.”

“Can you at least give
Mistress Toby something to make her feel better?”

Stephen sighed
heavily, moving to peek inside the half-open door. Toby was where he had left
her, holding her sister’s corpse fiercely and weeping her heart out. In fact,
she’d not let go of the body since Tate had brought her sister up from where she
had landed at the bottom of the stairs over an hour ago. Stephen could hardly
examine the little girl; Toby refused to let go. But a full examination was not
needed to know that she was quite dead.

“I have something to
make her sleep,” he said, looking to Tate after a moment. “It is not going to
be easy separating her from her sister’s body.”

Tate could see Toby
and Ailsa from where he stood.  His own eyes were stinging and he realized it
was because tears were close to the surface. He hadn’t cried since that dark
day four years ago when his wife had perished while giving birth. Then he’d
turned into a stone. Now the stone was cracking the emotions were starting to
come forth once again. He didn’t like it but he knew there was no way he could
stop it.

“Give her time,” he
finally said, fighting off pangs of grief as he turned to Kenneth.  “We will
need a coffin for Ailsa. Will you see to that?”

Kenneth nodded slowly,
his ice-blue eyes beholding the scene through the crack in the doorway.  But he
tore his eyes away as if he did not want to witness such pain.  He was about to
reply when a low voice came from the darkened stairwell.

“I told you that
womenfolk did not belong at Harbottle.”

No one had seen
Wallace come up the stairs. He stood several steps down from the landing,
hidden by the shadows. Tate, Stephen, Kenneth and Edward turned to look at the
man, looking dark and grim as he hovered just out of the light.  Tate found
that his patience with the man’s grumbling was vanished.  Now he was brittle,
poised to strike at a wrong word.

“The child’s fall down
the stairs had nothing to do with whether or not she belonged here,” he
growled. “If I hear another dark word come out of your mouth about this
incident, I will cut your tongue out and throw it to the birds. I have had
enough of your grumbling; go with Kenneth and help him find a suitable coffin
for the girl. Stay out of my sight until my anger has cooled.”

Kenneth had never
heard Tate issue such a threat; the man was perpetually calm in all things. He
could only surmise it was the force of his emotion talking. The big blond
knight moved to the stairs, grabbing Wallace by the arm and forcing him back
down from whence he came. 

Tate’s angry gaze
lingered on the darkened stairs long after they had gone as he struggled to
collect himself.  He realized very quickly that his unchecked emotions were
manifesting into sharp commands and zero tolerance. He should have been
embarrassed but found that, in truth, he was not. He was feeling something for
the death of Ailsa and was not ashamed about it. With a heavy sigh, he turned
back to the half-open door.

“Get your potion
prepared,” he said softly, pushing the door open slightly in preparation for
entering. “I have a feeling we are in for a long and difficult night.”

Stephen nodded
faintly, following Tate into the room where his medicament bag lay open near
the hearth.  As Stephen went for the bag, Tate went for the bed.  The closer he
drew, the more his heart ached for what he saw.

Toby was cradling
Ailsa against her chest, the child’s head lying upon her breast.   Toby had
been weeping painful, steady tears for over an hour. Her left arm was wrapped
around the body, her right hand pressed against Ailsa’s head. Tears, saliva and
mucus rained onto Ailsa as Toby expended her grief. Tate stood a moment,
watching her slender body shake with sobs, wondering if there was anything in
the world he could say to ease her sorrow but knowing in the same breath that
there was not.

“Elizabetha,” he
murmured, leaning over and gently putting his hands on her arms. “Can Stephen
have Ailsa for a while? Just for a short while so that you may rest.”

Toby’s reply was to
weep harder and hold on tighter. Tate sat down on the bed behind her, his big
torso pressed up against her back and his massive arms winding around hers
until he, too, was holding Ailsa. He just held them both a moment, rocking them
gently.

“I promise that
Stephen will take good care of her,” he murmured into Toby’s hair. “But you
must rest a while. Just a short while, I promise.  Will you trust him to take
care of her?”

Toby was in a haze of
grief.  She couldn’t think of anything other than the tragedy that had befallen
her and she held her sister’s cooling corpse tightly, trying to infuse some
warmth into it.  It hadn’t sunk in yet that her sister would never rise again. 
This was the child she had raised since infancy so in a sense, not only had she
lost her sister but she had lost her child as well.

On the heels of
Forestburn’s destruction and her parents’ death, the horrific accident were too
much for her to take and she held on tightly for fear that if she let go, she
would lose everything.  At least if she continued to hold Ailsa, she’d not lost
her entire family. Irrational thoughts, but at the moment, she was quite
irrational. She was spiraling.

“Nay,” she sobbed into
Ailsa’s hair. “You cannot have her.”

By this time, Stephen
was standing next to the bed, a cup in his hand that contained the sleeping
elixir. He bent over, touching Toby’s hand gently.

“I promise I will take
great care of her,” he said soothingly. “But I should like for you to rest a
while. Ailsa would not want you to become ill again. It would displease her.”

Toby tightened her
grip, feeling threatened with one knight in back of her and another standing
over her.  She was sure they were going to snatch Ailsa away and she would not
let them have her.

“Go away,” she hissed.
“Go away and leave us alone.”

Stephen caressed
Toby’s hand comfortingly. “Please, Toby,” he moved beyond the formalities.
“Please let me take care of her for awhile. You need to rest and I must tend to
Ailsa. I cannot do that if you are holding her.”

“You cannot have her,”
Toby sobbed.

“Why not?”

“Because she is mine.”

“Of course she is
yours. I do not wish to keep her. I only want to have her for a little while as
you rest.”

Toby gazed down at the
ashen face of her little sister, who looked as if she was merely sleeping. No
gore, no blood; just peace. Toby’s face crumpled and tears fell like rain.

“Why did you do that?”
she begged the child mournfully. “Why did you fall on those stairs? You know
you should have been more careful. Why did you fall?”

Stephen continued to
rub at Toby’s hand, trying to offer what comfort he could.  “It was an
accident,” he said gently. “You cannot blame her. She simply fell.”

“Stupid!” Toby
suddenly burst, shaking Ailsa angrily. “It was stupid! You should not have been
running! I should have... I should have.…”  Her face went slack as if a
horrible thought had just occurred to her. “I should have held your hand. I
should have grabbed you before you got too close. I should have….”