Page 51 of Knight of Chaos
He took a finger to tip her chin up. “I know that you have been faithful,” he said before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Just as you should have known nothing would happen between me and those women at court before you decided to flee.”
She had the decency to look a bit ashamed that she had taken flight. He watched as she gulped. “I am sorry, Theobald.”
“There will be time for that later. After crossing the breadth of England, I am content that I have at last caught up with you. You have given me a merry chase, my dear,” he said good naturedly. “Now, who is this that I have yet to meet?”
“This is my childhood friend, Charles. Charles, this is my husband, Theobald Norwood,” Ingrid said by way of introduction.
Theobald nodded and stepped toward the younger man who most would consider a rival for Ingrid’s affections. But he and his wife had spent enough time apart and he would in no way allow a man from her past to attempt to lay some claim to a woman who already was his wife.
Theobald held out his hand and Charles reluctantly took his forearm. They stood almost toe to toe as if assessing each other’s worth.
“A pleasure, Charles,” Theobald said as he continued to stare upon the younger man. “Thank you for ensuring Ingrid’s safety until I could arrive.”
A sound left Charles’s lips. “’Twas not hard. She has been my… friend… for many a year now, my lord.”
“I know what a handful she can be, stubborn woman that she is, but that is why we love her, is it not?” Theobald asked with a raised brow, knowing this man before him cared very much for the lady. Charles nodded his reply.
“Aye… I suppose this is true,” Charles finally declared turning his gaze upon Ingrid. He gave her the briefest of nods before taking his leave without another word.
Theobald crossed his arms over his chest whilst keeping his glare upon Ingrid. “Will we have further problems with that one declaring himself?” he asked, attempting to keep any annoyance from his tone.
“I cannot even imagine why Charles would want to make some kind of claim on me in the first place,” Ingrid answered taking a step closer.
“Can you not?”
The silence grew between them with only the sound of the nearby creek as the water rushed over the boulders and riverbed. She didn’t answer his question and he finally crossed the distance between them.
His hand caressed her cheek. “The fact that you cannot in truth see that you are a treasure that any man might covet is a true testament of the rarity that is allyou, my dearest wife.”
She leaned into his palm. “Then you forgive me?”
A muffled laugh escaped him. “Forgive you? Surely not that easily, my dear.”
Her eyes widened. “But I thought—”
He went to her quickly, picked her up, and tossed her over his shoulder, landing a playful slap on her bottom. “That was your first mistake, my pet. Or mayhap ’twas your second. I believe I lost count in the se’nnight I have been traveling trying to track you when you should not have left me in the first place.”
“Theobald! Put me down this instant!” she bellowed pounding upon his back with her fists. Her feeble efforts went without success in getting her way.
Another gentle slap landed on her other buttock. “Nay, my disobedient wife! I think perchance to ensure you cannot escape me, I shall have to hold you captive until I have had my wicked way with you. Only then will I be able to prove that you are the only woman who shall ever be invited into my bed again.”
Ingrid calmed down until she finally answered him with the softest whisper. “Do you promise?”
“I promised you there would be no other on the day we wed. You just never gave me the opportunity to prove myself to you when those women began to play their games. You should have listened to your heart, Ingrid—or rather, you should have listened to mine, for then you would have heard that it will forever and always beat only for you.”
“Oh, Theobald,” she said with a catch to her voice.
Theobald pulled her down from his shoulder to stand before him. He took hold of her arms bringing her into his embrace and proceeded to kiss her. ’Twas a kiss with a promise—one that he hoped would erase any further doubt she had left in her mind. She was his just as much as he belonged to her. His kiss was a vow that they would never be parted again even if the world around them was filled with chaos.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ingrid had risenearly knowing they would be traveling again this morn. A small repast was left on the table for Theobald and the men to partake of once they finished attending the horses. She had already broken her own fast. Their gear had been packed the night before, and there was little left in this small place she called home that she wished to take with her. There was only one thing left to do… mayhap two.
Her reunion with Theobald had been… magnificent. She gave a shy smile as she remembered how attentive to her needs he had been with her that first night when he had at last finally found her. That was until she begged him to take her. Gentle was one thing and had its time and place, but they had been apart for too long. Her desire that they be as one overtook all common sense of acting the genteel lady. She had wanted Theobald in ways she never thought possible, and he had proved to her that he could take her to new heights.
She would certainly not complain with him teaching her what he liked in their marriage bed. And she learned a few things in their play she had not known she was capable of. One moment the shy kitten, in the next she became a temptress who reveled in hearing him moan and call out her name. Aye… she had learned quickly what he liked, and she had enjoyed their coupling, too! She could only hope that the other knights—camping out in the fields to give the married couple some privacy—had not been close enough to hear the racket they had made.
She picked up the two small bouquets of wildflowers tied with ribbons she had gathered yesterday and made her way across the village to the cemetery. The graves of her parents were not hard to find. It seemed as though it was just yesterday that she had buried her father next to the mother she had never known. She had been loved. That much her father had told her about the woman who died giving birth to Ingrid. Yet there was so much he had kept from her. How could he have gone to his grave knowing he had hidden such vital information as to the origins of her birth from her? That question would always remain a mystery. He certainly was not going to rise from the grave to impart any final words of wisdom.
