Page 20 of Knight of Chaos
“And you should not be coddling me,” she said sternly. “I am not some delicate flower that must be handled with care.”
“Even a hardy flower needs nurturing on occasion, my dear,” Theobald replied. She gave a small smile, and he was pleased she was well enough to offer him a brief glimpse of her inner beauty.
She finished her meal, pushing the bowl away. A sheepish look appeared on her features. Raising her eyes to stare upon him, she ducked her head in what he assumed was embarrassment. Her words were so soft he needed to lean forward to hear them. “About last night…” she began letting those three little words linger between them.
He took a stool and placed it next to her. Taking her hands in his, he gave them a gentle squeeze. “You do not need to explain. If I was able to offer you even a small measure of comfort or safety, then you do not need to embellish any further details of your request last eve.”
“’Twas hardly a ladylike thing for a woman to request from a man she barely knows. What you must think of me.” Her breath caught in her throat whilst her head turned away from him.
Theobald let go of one of her hands before he reached over to gently take her chin, turning her head to face him once more, not allowing her to avoid his eyes. “Ingrid, you must know I hold you in the highest esteem. Please do not dwell on the unpleasantries that caused you to make such a request in the first place. I shall deal with this traitor who dared to harm you.”
“Oswin stopped him before he could do lasting damage,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
“And I am thankful for his service to you, and that you did not come to further harm,” Theobald said watching a tear escape her eye. His hand once more reached out whilst his thumb brushed the wetness from her cheek.
“Since I begged him to stay with me, Oswin will think I—”
“—care for him,” he finished. “We shall worry about Oswin and whatever he thinks he feels for you, and you for him, once you are healed and are back on your feet.”
“I do not wish to give him hope…” Her words trailed off whilst she appeared uncertain of what she should do next.
“You are not to worry over anything or anyone at this time aside from yourself. For now, all I require of you is that you rest,” Theobald answered. He took her elbow to help her rise and walked with her back to her pallet. Once she was settled, he tucked the covers around her.
“My father used to tuck me in like this when I was a child. He called it my princess tuck.” A sob caught in her throat at the memory.
Theobald reached down to caress her hair. “Then I am glad I am able to give you a reminder of your sire, my lady.”
“You are a good man, Theobald Norwood,” she said with a sleepy yawn.
A chuckle rumbled inside his chest when his thoughts got the better of him, reminding him of what he would rather being doing with the lovely Ingrid if she were but healed. If she could see his thoughts, she would be more likely to slap his face than to call him good. Fortunately, his passionate thoughts remained hidden. “Aye,” he laughed trying to keep the conversation between them light. “I am a saint amongst men.”
She giggled merrily. “Oh… you are certainly no saint, Theo.” His shortened name brought a wicked smile to his lips.
“Aye,” he murmured as she closed her eyes. “And be sure you never forget it, my dear.”
Her smile curved upwards, and Theobald was unsure if she heard his words or if she had already slipped away to dreamland.
“Ingrid?” He watched her carefully realizing she had indeed fallen asleep. He kneeled next to her pallet and placed a gentle kiss upon her cheek. His mouth hovered over her face until he felt her hand take hold of his arm. He carefully disengaged her grip and yet he could not stop himself from giving her just one more kiss. The remembrance of the softness of her skin, along with the racing of his heart from what he thought would be a simple act, stayed with him the entire day.
Chapter Fourteen
Sounds of theraging battle in the distance had become a constant companion to Ingrid over the past se’nnight whilst she recovered in the tent. Another morn in her recovery had dragged on at an unbearably slow pace until Ingrid thought she might go mad. Theobald had forbidden her to return to the fighting and made it clear she was to stay put. This left her with little to do.
She had never been one to remain idle even whilst living on her father’s smallholding. After all, there had always been one chore or another that needed to be accomplished back then. However, she was now far from her home and from the life she had known. She had not thought she would miss it, but she had not imagined the monotony she would face as she waited for her body to heal. With no one to keep her company, she had become completely bored to the point where she contemplated disobeying Theobald’s orders and finding something to occupy her mind outside this dwelling and amongst the living.
“Ingrid,” a familiar voice called from outside, “are you decent?”
Overjoyed that someone was finally coming to rescue her from her low spirits, she went to the opening of the tent and saw Sir Blake Kennarde, one of Theobald’s friends. His tabard was covered in blood, his face dripping with sweat as he held his helmet with one hand. ’Twas clear he but recently came from the battlefield and she could only ponder what he held behind his back.
“Welcome, Sir Blake. How goes our Empress’s cause?” she asked, hopeful the siege would end soon, and the Empress would be victorious. Any news would be welcome, along with someone to have a conversation with even if it lasted but briefly. But admittedly, she was surprised he had not come early in the morn to visit her before he was covered with blood from the battle. Surely his presence might be missed at this hour of the day.
“’Tis the same as the day before, Mistress Ingrid. I did not, however, come to talk of gruesome things like the war that is practically on your doorstep. There has been a temporary truce to collect the dead allowing me time to briefly step away.”
“Then what can I do for you?” she asked whilst he shuffled from one boot to the other.
“Here.” He thrust a small leather book at her leaving her no option other than to take it. “I thought you might wish to read something to pass the time. ’Tis mine. Just a book of short stories but the tales might keep you entertained during your confinement.”
Her hand caressed the worn leather. The pages, she noticed, had also been read many a time. “This is very considerate of you, but I cannot keep such a treasured gift. ’Tis obvious you have read this yourself on many an occasion.”
