Page 12 of Knight of Chaos
“Can you?” his brother teased.
“Let the matter rest, young scamp,” Theobald warned whilst listening to Reynard sputter obviously put out about the reference to his age. “You have a place to rest this eve?”
“Aye. I have already made arrangements for a place to put my pallet for the night with Blake.”
“Then I will bid you a good night so you may take your ease, brother,” Theobald said.
“Until the morrow, Theo,” Reynard replied before taking his leave.
Theobald pulled open the flap of the tent before letting the canvas fall back into place. Despite the darkness of the night, he could still make out where everything was located since Ingrid had left several candles lit so he could see upon his return. Setting down the basket, he made his way over to a nearby chair and sat. He pulled his tabard from his body, leaned forward, and began to pull the metal chainmail from his frame. He took off the rest of the garments from his chest before standing and making his way over to the pitcher that contained the water from Ingrid’sbath. ’Twould not be the first time he reused water and he was thankful to at least have the chance to become somewhat clean.
He hurried, knowing the food grew colder the longer he took. Pulling out a clean tunic from his belongings, he strode the few steps to kneel next to a slumbering Ingrid. He looked down upon her…reallylooked upon her in a way he hadn’t since their first encounter in the forest. In the time since, he had been so focused on protecting her that he had managed to put all other thoughts to the side. But now that he was looking again, he could in no way discount what his friends had immediately witnessed where Ingrid was concerned. She was a true beauty. Her flaming red hair would be any man’s downfall, that was for certain. Her skin was tanned to a golden hue from her time spent in the sun making her appear even more surreal. What happenings could have shaped this woman’s life that she now fought in a war she should be far away from?
“Theobald…”
His name left her lips in a breathy whisper and he bent forward and saw she yet slumbered. Odd that… The sound of his name reminded him on how a lover would call to him. Something in him stirred and whilst he hesitated to touch her skin, he took a lock of her hair, rubbed it between his fingers before tucking it behind her ear.
“Ingrid.” He murmured her name, placing his hand gently upon her shoulder to give her a gentle shake. She must be having one hell of a dream for her lips formed into an enchanting smile that would entice even an angel to do unspeakable things to the unsuspecting woman who continued to slumber.
“Kiss me,” she whispered before reaching out her arms to take hold of his tunic, pulling with a strength he was surprised she still possessed after hefting her sword all day. His mouth was but inches from her own before common sense swept over him. Nay! He would not take advantage of what she offered when she slept, tempting though it might be.
He took her hands from his garment and sat back on his heels, still reeling from how close he had come to kissing those perfect lips. “Ingrid,” he said more firmly. He gave her another shake. This time more forceful than the one previously uttered.
A frown formed upon her brow before her eyes began to flicker open. “Theobald, is something amiss?” Her voice was laced with confusion most likely from the fact his tone when he said her name sounded gruff and full of censorship even to his own ears.
“I have food. Come eat before it gets any colder and becomes inedible.” He stood and held out his hand to assist her from her pallet. Her fingers easily slid into his palm as if they belonged there. His breath caught in his throat. Shockingly, tiny burning sensations raced from his fingers and straight up his arm, making him even more aware of the woman before him. Never had such a thing happened to him and he began to wonder what kind of spell this lady would hold over his heart in his future.
He let go of her hand as though branded by fire, ignoring the fleeting look of confusion flashing across her features. But she was quick to recover—much faster than his own racing heart. He turned away from her, picked up one of the candles so they might see their meal better, and went to the small table where he had placed the basket. He pulled a stool out and motioned for her to take a seat whilst he began to unpack their small repast.
“’Tis not much but ’twill have to sustain us until we are able to procure another meal,” he said. The smell of meat pies had already filled the tent and he watched Ingrid lick her lips in anticipation of what he had provided. Bread and cheese were also laid out and before he also took a seat, he went to where wine awaited him, poured two cups, and brought them back to their table.
“’Tis a feast fit for a king and queen,” she purred not knowing what her words did to him…especially the phrasing that made it sound as though they were somehow a couple. He handed her one of the chalices and they both took a sip.
Silence filled the tent as they began to eat their fill. “Delicious,” Ingrid at last murmured. “I do not know when I have tasted anything better.”
“’Tis simple fare. We had better at the other inn,” Theobald commented dryly. The candlelight from their table cast soft glows upon the woman seated across from him making her red hair appear to dance before his eyes as if her tresses had a life of their own.
“But not as satisfying as after fighting all day,” she replied before pushing the rest of her pie before him. “You might as well finish this.”
“Are you certain?” he asked still feeling as if he could eat his horse.
“Aye. I am stuffed and could not eat another bite.”
“Then I am obliged,” he replied and with her nod began to finish the rest of what their banquet still held. She leaned her elbows upon the table and studied him intently. She appeared as though she had many questions but instead of giving her time to ask whatever she had on her mind, he spoke up. “Tell me of yourself, Ingrid.”
Startled, she hesitated before she answered him. “There is not much to tell. I lived a simple life in a village outside of London where my father and I farmed the land.”
“And your mother?”
Her eyes closed briefly before opening again. Her fingers gripped the stem of the chalice as if her memories caused her pain. Her next words confirmed his thoughts. “Died upon my birth,” she said softly. “There have been many times over the years when I wished I had known her.”
“I am sorry for your loss. I, too, have known how the death of loved ones affects your life and causes much suffering. My brothers are all the family I have left in the world.” A silent look passed between them as they shared a common memory that still remained fresh in their hearts.
“And what of your father? How is it that he gave you permission to join the Empress’s army?” Theobald asked as he finished the last of his meal and took a sip of his wine.
“He has gone to join my mother in the heavens. He would have never allowed me to leave the village if he still walked the earth.” She gave a heavy sigh before reaching for her cup as though the wine would sustain her from all she had lost.
“No other family or friends to take you in?” he inquired almost knowing what her answer would be.
