Shabib bowed again and turned to leave the gardens. Tosia grabbed at his flapping robe, stopping him before he went too far.
“I hope the same for ye, Shabib, to quell the pain of your own demons.”
He tipped his head slightly, then pulled his robes from her fingertips and left.
Chapter Ten: Private Conversations
Too soon, her weddingwas a mere day away. Tosia’s jitters, her nerves, her disquiet grew with every passing hour, passing minute . . . King Robert’s household, James’s men, even her own brother tried to assuage her apprehension, and she tried to take their counsel to heart, she did. But whenever James’s intense, black-lashed gaze landed on her, or his gruff voice spoke to her, trepidation surged through her, pounding in her head and making her hands shake. The rumors of his dark nature, his reputation as the beast of Scotland, outweighed any other words about the man.
The night before she was to wed, she came late to the evening meal in the main hall, having spent most of night in the kitchens preparing oats and onions for the blood pudding. Her fingers stank of the arid tang of onion, and her eyes had watered the entire time. She lost herself in her task, true, but she knew in her heart she was also trying to avoid those in the main hall. She couldn’t bring herself to lay eyes on the Douglas man who tomorrow would be her husband.
Only when Brigid kicked her out of the kitchen to find her meal did Tosia enter the hall, hesitant and subdued , and she sat at the first bench where a platter of venison and peeled turnips sat undisturbed. She picked at the food. A hot ball of unease filled her stomach, making it impossible to eat.
“Och lass. I was afeard ye would’ve missed the evening meal.”
The thundering voice behind her made her jump. The enormous hulk of James stood behind her, his companions Shabib and Thomas next to him. The Moor gave her a slight nod, one to calm her jumpiness no doubt, but to no avail. The king himself was walking through the tables toward them.
As if her heightened nerves needed further vexation. She lowered the knife on the table and the hot ball in her belly burned more.
“I’ve no’ been hungry, milord,” she said in a slight voice as she dropped her gaze to her lap.
“’Tis understandable, lass. Much has happened over the past sennight, and with tomorrow —” He kept his voice level, trying to sooth her anxiety, but with these three men crowding her, Tosia was lost.
“Pardon me, please, milord.” Rising awkwardly, she gave the men a quick curtsy and raced for the darkened stairwell as fast as her legs could carry her.
Once she was hidden in her room, Tosia exhaled. Her stomach roiled as she breathed, and she dove for the chamber pot, thinking she’d lose what little she had eaten that day. But there was nothing left, and she only dry heaved until she was weak.
Sitting on the floor, she shifted to lean against her bedding. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away with the stained sleeve of her kirtle. Her head fell back against the bed and she gazed at the ceiling beams, wishing she were back in her cramped croft with her mother and brother, wishing she were anywhere but here.
“Ye frightened the poorlass well enough,” Robert commented as he closed the door to his cramped study. “Ye’ll have to talk to her, James. She canna wed ye if she fears ye. What manner of wife would that be? If she is to be your calming balm, ye must show her that ye do have a caring side.”
James raised an eyebrow. He had long thought the king’s sense to be skewed, prone to folly, and here he was, the victim of it. The lass was attractive, he could not deny that, her hair as rich and earthy as his former Douglas holdings and eyes as ruddy as the Scotsuisge-beatha.But he barely saw those eyes for all she kept her gaze lowered. She was also well-built, not one of the sickly, small women who’d struggle to lift a bucket.
He had hoped that his vow to her the day she’d arrived assuaged at least a few of her concerns, but from how she’d reacted to him, that didn’t seem to be the case. Wedding a woman who feared him more than the devil didn’t interest him in the least. He wasn’t the type to welcome an unwilling woman to his bed. What was he to do?
“What makes ye think I have a caring side?
