Page 21 of Knight of Chaos
Blake shrugged. “Then consider it a loan. You may return it once you have finished.”
“’Tis very kind of you, Sir Blake. Thank you,” she said quietly. She was unsure if she should ask him to keep her company.
“You are most welcome, Mistress Ingrid.” He appeared as though he would say more yet he refrained. Instead, he bowed giving her a teasing wink and turned to leave. At the entrance he looked over his shoulder but gave her no opportunity to see if he would stay. “Good day to you.”
“Be safe upon the battlefield, Sir Blake,” she replied watching him depart.
Her brief respite from her own dreary company was now gone, but at least now she had something to do. Blake’s thoughtful gift, even if ’twas only a loan, cause Ingrid to smile in gratitude. Slowly, she made her way to the stool set at the table where she and Theobald took their meals. Laying down the leather book, she sat. Opening the cover, a faded inscription from father to son was etched on the very first page. This was indeed something Blake treasured as she had surmised. Ingrid was unsure how he could allow her to keep such a gift from his father for even a small measure of time. She would have to make sure to treat the volume with great care. She would feel horribly guilty if it took any damage whilst in her possession.
Determined to read the book throughout the day and return it to Blake as soon as she was able, she quickly began to absorb the stories. Some caused her to laugh. Others to cover her mouth in sadness. ’Twas a mixture of tales as though from someone’s life and she began to ponder if mayhap ’twas more of a diary than a collection of fictional yarns to keep oneself amused. She was about halfway through the book when her name was called again. Another knight had come to call upon her. She was beginning to have a suspicious notion he would not be the last.
Rising from the stool was difficult from sitting too long. She held her side whilst she again made her way to the opening of the tent. Pulling back the flap, she saw Sir Kingsley Goodee holding what appeared a meal for her. It appeared that the few friends of Theobald’s that she was acquainted with would all choose to make an appearance this day. Did they somehow know that her confinement and lack of anything to do had started getting the best of her? Whatever their reason, she was glad for the company.
“Sir Kingsley. What a pleasant surprise,” she said watching his face brighten with her words. Stepping aside she waved him inside. “Please come inside.
“You are too kind, Mistress Ingrid,” he replied placing his bounty on the table she had just vacated. He began spreading out the feast he had brought her as she made her way back to her seat. He held onto her elbow to steady her.
“Others must be joining us for you to have brought so much,” she murmured. Her stomach growled giving testament she was famished. “Are the rest of Theobald’s friends coming as well?”
Kingsley handed her a trencher and began serving her as though she were incapable of handling the task for herself. When he had given her the choicest of meats, he finally spoke. “This is all for you to enjoy, Mistress Ingrid. I would not wish to intrude long on your solitude or Theobald might take me to task.”
“Did Theobald send the food, then?” she questioned with a raised brow. If this were so, then she would have wished he had delivered her meal himself.
“Nay. He does not know I am here. This is my own doing to see that you were well taken care of,” Kingsley replied with a crooked grin. “Please enjoy the meal. I will have a servant come fetch the dishes later.”
Holding onto a two-pronged fork, she pointed at the food she knew she could in no way finish by herself. “You must join me and eat your fill.”
Kingsley bowed. Another knight making a hasty retreat from her presence. “Alas, I cannot… The battle resumes soon, and I am needed upon the field.”
She nodded at his excuse for what else could she do? “My thanks for the meal, Sir Kingsley.”
Without another word he left her, and she was once again plunged into solitude. She ate what she could but before long she was full. She wrapped up what was left of the meal so she could share it with Theobald, or partake of it later herself if she became hungry once more. She tried to engage her mind with reading again but after several pages and a full stomach, she had become sleepy. Perchance a short nap would help the day go by faster. Laying down upon her pallet, she fell into a restful sleep.
Restful… until she was jolted awake. Goosebumps shivered across her arms as if in warning that she was being watched. Her eyes skimmed the interior of the tent when she saw the shape of a man pouring himself a chalice of wine. Thinking ’twas the villain who had almost done her harm, she gasped.
At her sound, the man turned in her direction. Oswin’s smile of happiness that she was awake caused her to give a sigh of relief. Or was this a release of the pent-up helplessness she experienced when she could not stop that man’s actions? She had no more time to ponder the dread left over from her ordeal with de Payne. Oswin strode forward to lessen the distance between them and stood before her. His features were relaxed and appeared almost boyish despite he was in truth probably several years older than herself.
Ingrid took the blanket that covered her and pulled it up to her chest. She managed to sit up and was about to stand when Oswin took her hand.
“Do not rise on my account, Ingrid,” he said. His voice was like a velvety purr in an attempt to ease any awkwardness between them.
“Why are you here?” she asked whilst her gaze went to the entrance in the hopes that Theobald might enter to save her from having this conversation alone. She would be most grateful for his company.
“’Tis not obvious?” Oswin teased. Leaning down, he brought her fingertips near his lips. Her attempt to pull away only occurred after his mouth made contact with her skin. He arched one brow. “You are not glad to see me?”
“Sir Oswin…”
“I thought we agreed to be on a first name basis, Ingrid. Have you forgotten?” he asked waiting for her answer.
After coming to her rescue, Ingrid suspected the knight before her had reached his own conclusions as to her feelings for him. Although she knew Oswin would most likely make a good husband, her feelings for Theobald were at the forefront of her mind. She wanted to see if something could develop between them. She did not wish to hurt Oswin, but she also did not want to encourage him that there was more between them. He should be spending his time concentrating on the battle outside this tent instead of making attempts to woo her. Ingrid was craving to be doing the same, if only her wound would heal faster.
She stood and moved around him so she was no longer at a disadvantage whilst sitting on her pallet. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding between us.” Her reply was firm, causing a frown to develop on his handsome features.
A grumble of discontent rumbled in his chest. He slowly raised the cup he held to his mouth and took a sip. His eyes followed her about the tent whilst she put a fair amount of distance between them. “You have nothing to fear from me, Ingrid,” he said. His words seemed to be honestly spoken but she was still on edge.
Her chin rose. “Did I say I feared you?”
“Nay, but if you get any farther away from me, you shall wander out into the battlefield.”
