Lord of Misrule (Below the Salt #8)

Chapter 3

“ K it, you can’t really leave your bakery unattended. Please. I don’t want to birth my baby without you,” said Brenna the next morning, not wanting Kit to go.

“She doesn’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Oliver took Brenna’s hands in his as Kit dragged a loaded-down bag to the door of her shop.

“That’s right,” agreed Kit. “It was Lord Tolin’s decision, not mine. Still, it is better that Parker and I live at the castle for the holiday season rather than my child ending up in the dungeon. Parker, are you ready to go?” Kit called out to her son.

The bells jangled over the door and Kit’s sister-by-marriage walked in.

“Oh, good, you’re here, Vivian. I’m counting on you to fill the orders until I return.” Kit’s saving grace was this woman. Without her, there would be no one qualified to run her shop. By law, Kit needed to leave the business in the hands of someone who was a guild member. If she didn’t and the guild checked up on her, she’d be fined or mayhap would have her bakery taken away from her. There were rules to be followed. And although Vivian was in the cordwainer’s guild now and no longer in the baker’s guild, it would still be a great risk, but she had to try it. Vivian was her best chance at securing her future. Kit was counting on the fact the woman was in some kind of guild. Hopefully, it would keep Kit out of trouble until her return.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” Vivian was a small woman with red hair. She never said much but tended to her job and kept to herself, not wanting to create waves. This objection now coming from her was surprising and unexpected.

Kit stood upright and blinked several times in succession, not able to believe what she was hearing. “What did you say, Vivian?”

“I can’t cover for you,” the girl repeated, letting her gaze drop to the floor. She obviously felt as uncomfortable about this situation as Kit did at the moment.

“I know it’s not much that I can pay you, but I promise to give you more later as I can.”

“It’s not the pay. I just can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?” Kit put down her things and moved closer to the girl. It wasn’t hard to see Vivian’s whole body was shaking. “You’ve helped me out before,” Kit continued. “My husband was your brother. I need your help now. Please, don’t abandon me.”

“I’m sorry, Kit. Willis won’t let me do it,” Vivian blurted out, wringing her hands together.

“Willis,” said Kit with a nod, releasing a deep breath. Why had she even thought that the man wouldn’t try to cause her trouble?

“Why won’t he let you help us?” Oliver demanded to know. “You helped us out yesterday. What changed?”

“And we are so grateful you helped us, aren’t we darling?” Brenna grabbed Oliver’s arm and scowled at him. It was her silent warning to be kind to the poor girl.

“Willis never got along with Gerold,” said Kit, speaking aloud about her late husband who was also Vivian’s brother. “And he also always thought I was a harlot, since I got pregnant with Parker out of wedlock,” Kit spoke brashly, stating the truth. “Most people still think I am a strumpet, thanks to him and his untrue gossip.”

“Oh, Kit, please don’t say that.” Vivian wrung her hands together. “It’s not true. No one thinks of you in that manner.”

When Kit became pregnant by Gerold’s brother Crispin, they had planned to be married. But Crispin died quickly and unexpectedly. Gerold, being a widower and having no children of his own, took Kit in and made her his wife. Eyebrows raised in town when the story started to circulate. Especially when Parker was born a mere five months later. It had taken years for the townsfolk to accept Kit as Gerold’s wife, but Willis never could seem to befriend Gerold, even though he was married to the man’s sister.

“Let me make something clear. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me,” said Kit, walking back to where she was packing, pulling the strings of the full bag closed tightly. “Vivian, you know how to bake and how to run this business just as well as I do,” said Kit. “You have skills and a true talent. You also used to help Gerold before I married him. You once belonged to the baker’s guild, and it is not easy to be accepted by them. If I don’t have you here in my absence, I’m afraid I will truly lose the business. Forever. Why does Willis despise me so much that he’d order you to stay away and doom me to this fate?”

“It’s not that he despises you, Kit,” said the nervous woman. “Well, not really. Willis heard that Parker was caught stealing. I’m sorry, but he doesn’t want me to associate with thieves.”

“Are you talking about me?” Parker walked into the room with a bag of his things thrown over his shoulder. “I’m not a thief, no matter what you’ve heard. I wasn’t stealin’ nothin,’ I swear.”

“Anything,” Kit corrected him. “Vivian, my son won’t even be here at the shop, so why does it even matter?” Please. I need you. Can’t you try to change your husband’s mind?”

“I’m sorry, Kit, I wish I could help you, but he was adamant with his decision. And I swear I hold nothing against you or Parker. But it is our busy season, too, at the cordwainer’s shop. Willis needs my help with the shoes. I wish you the best. Honest, I do.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned abruptly and left the shop.

Kit felt her heart sink as the door closed behind her friend, separating them, putting distance between them. She was doomed now and there was nothing she could do about it. She would lose all her customers, not be able to pay the rent, and she and her son as well as her sister and brother by marriage would all be living on the streets by the time she returned from Blake Castle.

“We’ll handle the shop for you,” promised Oliver, meaning well but doing nothing to ease her worries. The man didn’t even know how to build a proper fire in the ovens let alone make a batch of tarts or knead bread.

“I can’t lay my burdens on the shoulders of the two of you,” Kit said softly. “I won’t be here if something should happen.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” said Oliver.

“That’s right. And mayhap I’ll be late birthing my baby.” Brenna rubbed her very pregnant belly and groaned. With Oliver’s help she slowly got seated atop a stool. Ever since their mother had told Brenna and Oliver to leave, Kit’s sister was feeling insecure and abandoned. The last thing Kit wanted was to make Brenna feel alone once again. Kit lived through the rejection of her parents when she became pregnant with Parker and had no ring on her finger. It was the hardest time of her life. She didn’t wish these kinds of hardships on even her worst enemy.

“Nay, it won’t work. I won’t leave the two of you here alone.” Kit continued to pack her things as she spoke. Then she stopped and pushed the bag away from her. “I just won’t do it, that’s all. I will refuse to go.”

“Mother, nay,” gasped Parker. “I don’t want to go to the dungeon, and that will be exactly what happens if you resist.” The poor boy looked as if he were about to cry. Kit realized he thought she was abandoning him, choosing to stay at the bakery instead of living at the castle with him.

“Nay, you don’t understand. I won’t leave you, baby, don’t worry.” She pulled Parker to her in a half-hug. “Oliver, pack up your things as well as a bag for Brenna.”

“What?” Brenna’s eyes opened wide. “You’re asking us to leave here?” Fear washed over the girl’s face. “Where will we go? We have no jobs or any other place to live. Oh, please don’t do this to us.”

“Nay, of course I would never do that.” Kit let go of Parker’s hand and ran over to comfort her sister now. “I only meant that you two are coming with us.”

“We are?” asked Oliver in confusion. “With you...where exactly?”

“Yes,” said Kit with a sharp nod. “And I am talking about you two coming with me to the castle.”

“Nay!” Brenna shook her head so hard she nearly fell from the stool.

“Aye,” said Kit, trying to give a confident nod even though she really wasn’t feeling confident with this decision at all. “Why not? If Lord Tolin demands that Parker and I stay at Blake Castle, then you two, being my family, will just join us.”

“But we’re not nobles. We are naught but common folk,” cried Brenna.

“The royals won’t want us at the castle,” agreed Oliver. “Besides, it won’t be allowed.”

“Why not?” She faked a smile. “The nobles invite all the peasants and commoners to the Christmas feasts. You won’t be asked to leave.”

“But what if we are?” Oliver wanted to know. “Where will we go then?”

“I’m sure Lord Tolin can use the extra help during their Christmas celebrations. That is exactly what we will give them.”

“We will?” asked Oliver.

“Sister, be serious,” said Brenna, shaking her head and still rubbing her large belly. “What kind of job could I possibly do in my condition?”

“Mother, Lord Tolin is mean,” added Parker. “He won’t allow them to stay.”

“We don’t know that.” Kit spied her favorite baking pan and went to collect it from the wall. “And Lord Tolin is not mean. After all, he didn’t harm you or put you in the dungeon. It will be fine.” Kit already started coming up with some sort of plan to make this happen. Lord Tolin seemed to like games and challenges. So that is exactly how she planned on presenting it to him.

“He hates me,” said Parker with a pout.

Kit opened up a canvas bag and started shoving baking pans inside. Then she hurriedly collected any leftover bread and baked goods and started wrapping them with brown paper. “Parker, you’re being silly. He doesn’t hate you. You’re just a child.”

“And a thief,” said Oliver from the side of his mouth, as he headed to the back room.

“I’m not a thief!” Parker huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Then he ran after Oliver into the other room.

“We must hurry,” Kit called out, wrapping the pastries. “Lord Tolin is sending a wagon to collect us and I know how impatient that guard can be. Brenna, can you please help me put the loaves of bread into the bag?” She helped her sister off the stool and shoved a bag into her hand.

“I’m scared, Kit.” Brenna slowly placed loaves of freshly baked bread into the bag, taking a second to sniff each one first.

“There is nothing to be frightened about. Women have babies every day. It’s a common thing.”

“Not that. Well, not just that,” Brenna corrected herself. “What if Lord Tolin turns us away? Where will we go? I don’t want to birth my baby in a trough inside a barn with cows breathing down upon it.”

Kit giggled, dragging the heavy bag to the door. “Neither will you have to. We’ll be back here in our own home before that baby arrives, I promise you that.” Kit said it aloud to calm her sister, but honestly had the same fears as Brenna floating through her mind.

“Back here?” Brenna looked around the room. “Do you really think the business will still be here if we close up shop from now through Twelfth Night?”

“Yes,” Kit answered, not able to meet her sister’s gaze.

“I know what you’re doing, Kit. What you always do. You are trying to cover up the fact that things are about to change and we can do nothing about it.”

“Sometimes change is good.”

“Mayhap. But don’t you think by believing this, you are being a little too optimistic?”

Before anything more could be said, Kit noticed a horse and wagon from the king’s castle stop in front of her shop. People gathered around it in the street, wondering if one of the nobles was at her door for a reason.

“The wagon is here!” Kit called out to the others. “Oliver, make certain the fires are out in the ovens. Parker, help me take our things outside. Brenna, bring that bag of bread and don’t forget your cloak as it is cold outside. We don’t want that baby to freeze. Everyone hurry!” Kit turned the sign around on the door, telling everyone that the bakery was closed.

She half-expected the grumpy guard or mayhap even Lord Tolin himself to be there to collect them. However, a different man came through her door instead. She had never seen him before. He stopped and looked directly at her.

“I’m here for Kit Barker and the thief,” said the red-haired man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was tall and lanky, but carried himself proudly, standing straight and pushing back his shoulders. He wore the clothes of a noble. Her eyes scanned down his form and she realized he wore a weapon belt with a sword at his side under his cloak. He was a fighting man, and mayhap a noble.

“It’s Baker, not Barker,” she corrected him. “I am Kit Baker and my son is Parker. Who are you?”

“I’m Jarvis, Lord Tolin’s squire,” said the man. “Which one of these bags is yours?” He looked to the ground where she had piled the things she wanted to bring along with them to the castle.

“They’re all mine. And my son’s of course,” she added, not yet wanting to say anything about Oliver and Brenna.

“I’ve never seen anyone with so much baggage.” He started to pick them up.

“I have a job to do, to bake at the castle. I will need my good pans for that. And recipes, of course.”

“Of course,” he mumbled, grumbling under his breath about having to haul the things of commoners. The bags were filled to the brim and not light. Yet, the thin man picked them all up at once. “Get the boy and let’s go. It looks like rain and I don’t plan on getting wet.”

“We’re leaving,” she called over her shoulder to her family. “Now. Hurry!”

Brenna waddled up with her cloak over her shoulders, struggling with the large bag of bread.

“I’ll take that.” Kit collected the bread bag and followed Jarvis out the door. The rest of her family fell in line. Jarvis was busy loading the things into the back of the wagon and complaining to himself or he would have noticed the entourage behind him. Kit took advantage of the situation. She had Oliver help Brenna up to the bench seat where the driver rode. Then, she helped Oliver up as well. “Oliver, you’ll have to ride in back,” she said, hoisting herself up next to Brenna and her son.

“Wait a minute. What’s all this? What’s going on?” Jarvis looked confused as he climbed up to the bench seat to drive the wagon.

“Where is the guard? Or Lord Tolin?” asked Kit, changing the subject by asking a question without answering his. “We need to be protected on our trip to the castle.”

By the dark look on the man’s face, she knew her distraction had worked. She had purposely wanted the man to feel insulted, hoping he’d forget about them and think about himself instead. “I’m Lord Tolin’s squire and I assure you I am quite capable of protecting commoners,” spat Jarvis. “I have even saved my lord’s life on the battlefield on more than one occasion. I am able to protect the lot of you if trouble should break out, don’t worry.”

“Good,” said Kit. “That makes me feel better.” She repositioned herself on the seat, fanning out her cloak that reached to her feet.

“Oh no, I think I felt a raindrop.” Brenna held out the palm of her hand. “It’s going to rain.”

“It is getting colder.” Jarvis glanced up at the sky. “By the looks of those clouds, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned into a bad squall or perhaps even a snowstorm before we make it back.”

“Then we’d better leave before we get wet,” suggested Kit.

Jarvis looked at her from the corner of his eyes with suspicion. “Ms. Barker, I am familiar with games, since Lord Tolin craves them. So, I know this is a game you’re playing with me. I must tell you that your distraction will not work with me. Now, answer me. Who are all these people?”

Kit let out a deep sigh, seeing the man was sharper than she’d thought. Just not with remembering names. “Baker, not Barker,” she corrected him once again. “This is my son, Parker, and my sister, Brenna, who is going to have a baby any day,” she told him, motioning to the two seated next to her.

“A baby. Yes, I see that.” Jarvis’ gaze dropped to Brenna’s large belly. “What about the man in the back who thought I didn’t see him get in in the cart? Who is he?”

“That’s Oliver. My husband,” Brenna relayed the information.

“Mother, it is starting to rain,” whined her son. “Can I go in the back with Oliver and get under a blanket?”

“Sure,” she said, helping Parker climb over the seat to the open wagon. Oliver helped him get settled. She looked over at Jarvis who wasn’t moving. “It would be a shame to see your cloak ruined from the rain,” she said, trying to coax him to leave.

“Cloaks are made for all kinds of weather. I’m not worried about it.” Jarvis sat there, not in any hurry to leave. “We will stay here as long as we have to, but I’m not leaving until you answer me.”

“I told you who these people are,” she protested.

“Yes, but you refrained from mentioning why they are traveling with us.”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” said Brenna, her eyes starting to close from being tired. Kit wanted to muffle her because she was going to spoil her plan.

“I never go anywhere without my other bakers,” Kit blurted out hoping Brenna wouldn’t say anything else.

“Your other bakers?” asked Brenna. Kit put her finger to her lips, turning her head so only Brenna could see her.

“My orders from Lord Tolin were to pick up the baker and her son. No one else. I’m afraid they’re not coming with us on this journey.” Jarvis wasn’t budging with his decision. This was not turning out well at all. Kit needed to come up with another plan quickly.

The sky was about ready to open up, and the last thing she wanted was to leave Oliver and Brenna here in the midst of a storm. They wouldn’t know what to do. Nay, they would never survive on their own. They needed her, and she didn’t want to disappoint them.

“Lord Tolin told me he wanted me to bake tarts,” said Kit. “And bread. Also, enough food for the celebrations he has planned from now until Twelfth Night. For that kind of volume, more bakers then normal are needed. That is why they are here and coming to the castle with us.”

“Oh,” said Jarvis, seeming to ponder the thought. “I suppose that makes sense. Lord Tolin does tend to get quite carried away with celebrations and the amount of people he invites to join him. His father left him in charge of the feast days from Christmas until Twelfth Night. I suppose a few extra bakers would come in handy.”

“So, we can leave now?” Kit raised her head and looked up at the sky. “I would hate for all the bread and baked goods I am bringing along for Lord Tolin to get ruined by the storm.”

“You have food in those bags?” Jarvis sounded hungry. He turned to look over his shoulder at the bags in the back of the wagon.

“Plenty of it,” Kit assured him. “Freshly baked this morning, I might add.”

The squire looked over at her and nodded. “You’re right. We wouldn’t want the food to get wet and ruined. Lord Tolin would never forgive me if that happened. We’d better go.” Jarvis took the reins and they finally started moving toward the castle.

Kit looked over at her sister and nodded slightly. They’d made it past the first obstacle, but would they be as lucky once they entered the castle courtyard? It was going to be hard enough getting Oliver and Brenna past that obnoxious guard. But Lord Tolin was a different story altogether. Would he see this as an opportunity to make the situation into another one of his silly games by sending Oliver and Brenna away? That, she could not allow. Even from the short time she’d spent with the obnoxious man, she knew better than anyone that competition was everything to him. Another thing that was clear was that he was a man who wasn’t used to losing.

Tolin lounged atop the battlements, drinking and playing dice with the guards. He’d rather be at the tavern, but Brother Ruford had been following him around and he was trying to shake him. At least he knew the overweight monk wouldn’t attempt to climb the steep stairs to the top of the castle walls.

He was about to throw the dice again when he heard the squeak of the wheels of the wagon driven by his squire as it arrived. By the loud rumbling sound he knew they were crossing the drawbridge. A second rumble filled the air, and that one was the threatening weather overhead.

“Stop. Who goezzz there?” Henry the guard called down, looking over the battlements. They’d been playing a drinking game and Henry had become a little too familiar with the bottle of whisky they were using. Tolin could already hear the man slurring his words.

“It’s me, Jarvis,” came Tolin’s squire’s voice from below. “Raise the gate, quickly. It is raining and we have a very pregnant woman here.”

“What?” Tolin looked up and over to the guard. “Did Jarvis say something about a pregnant woman?” He didn’t remember the fair wench named Kit looking pregnant at all.

“Aye. Certainly looks that way.” Henry took another swig of whisky, peering down over the battlements, almost losing his balance and teetering on the edge. “Raise the gate,” he ordered the other men, throwing his hand in the air.

Tolin jumped up, sticking the dice back in his pouch. He hurriedly made his way to the battlements. Glancing over the edge, he saw only the back end of the wagon as it rolled through the gate. “Damn it, what is going on here?” He pulled the bottle out of Henry’s hand. “The only ones allowed to enter were the wench and her son. Are you telling me there was a pregnant woman with them?”

“Yes. And a man and a boy too. And a boy. Did I already say that?” Henry squinted as if thinking, trying his best to hold back a burp.

“Henry, go sleep it off in the armory. And no more whisky for you.” Tolin took a swig as the sky opened up and the rain pelted down. “Take this,” he said, shoving the bottle into the hands of another guard and running down the stairs to the courtyard to meet his prisoners. Something was amiss and he had a feeling the wench was trying to pull something over on him. She was a sly one. He knew that from the moment he’d met her. Aye, he needed to keep a closer eye on her than even with the light-fingered lad.

When he got to the courtyard, everyone was running from the rain, trying to take shelter inside. He dodged a couple of washwomen, a group of children, two barking dogs, and the jester, who was already soaking wet.

“Out of my way,” he grumbled, getting to the wagon just in time to see the backs of a woman and a man entering the great hall. The boy was dragging a bag behind him and following them.

“Lord Tolin,” said Jarvis, taking the rest of the baggage out of the back of the wagon. He was so loaded down he could barely walk while carrying all these things.

“Jarvis, who were those people who just entered the castle?” He pointed to the great hall, extending his arm outward.

“Oh, thank you. I could use a little help.” Kit surprised him when she appeared, coming around the wagon, looping the handle of a very full and heavy bag over his extended arm. She held on to another full bag. Then she turned and headed toward the great hall.

“Stop!” he called out, purposely dropping the bag she’d looped over his arm. The contents inside clanged together as it hit the ground.

“Nay! Careful with that,” Kit cried, running back to inspect the contents of the bag. “I have some of my best baking pans in there, not to mention glass jars of herbs and spices. I hope you didn’t break them.” She bent over, digging through the bag as the rain continued to fall all around them.

“Pardon me, my lord, but these are getting heavier with the rain.” Jarvis stepped around him, hauling the things to the great hall.

“What is all this?” bellowed Tolin.

“These are our things,” Kit answered him, since Jarvis was in no position to turn around without dropping something.

“This is ridiculous. No one travels with so many belongings,” grumbled Tolin.

“I do.”

“You couldn’t possibly use all the things you’ve brought with you.”

She looked up at him when she answered. “If we’re going to be living here until Twelfth Night, then these things will all be needed, I assure you.” She tried to pick up the bag but it was bulky and she slipped on the wet cobblestones. Tolin’s arms shot out to catch her. He pulled her to his chest to steady her and keep her from falling.

A mistake.

Feeling the warmth of her body pressed up against him, smelling the floral scent of her hair, and noticing each one of her delectable curves, it had his mind racing. Once again.

“Thank you,” she said, looking directly at him. Their faces were close. So close that he could have easily bent over and kissed her lush lips. But he didn’t. “If you don’t mind, I am getting wet. I have fresh bread and baked goods in these bags that will be ruined if we stand here a minute longer.”

“Huh? Baked goods? Oh, yes.” Tolin blindly released her. He picked up the bag of pans and carried it as they headed to the great hall together.

“I’ll require a private room for my accommodations during my visit. For me and my family, that is,” she added catching him off guard.

“Private room,” he repeated, confused by the family part and thinking about that instead. “Wait a minute. You said during your visit.”

“That’s right.” She continued to walk.

“But you’re not here visiting and are not a guest. You are here as part of a punishment for what your son did, if I must remind you. Therefore, there will be no private room or any room at all.”

“What he supposedly did,” she corrected him, once again taking control of the conversation as he kept pace at her side. “Of course, you believe that a little boy is capable of stealing a sword from a royal guard, even though it is the furthest thing from the truth.”

“That is what my guard told me. I have no reason not to believe it.”

“I see,” she answered with a sniff. “Well, if that is what you believe, then perhaps you need to think about getting a new guard. One who can fend off an eight-year-old boy.”

He wanted to object, but after just seeing Henry well in his cups, he was having his doubts that the guard was worth much at all. Perhaps the girl was right, but he couldn’t admit it. Nor would he ever let the wench tell him what to do.

“I am still waiting for an answer. Who are those other people who arrived here with you?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him in the rain. “That is my pregnant sister and her husband.”

“Why are they here?”

“To help me bake, of course. For your celebrations from Christmas until Twelfth Night.”

“I didn’t say they could come here.”

“I thought you wanted successful festivities during Christmastide since you are in charge during your father’s absence. Did you not?”

“I assure you, I know how to plan a celebration.”

“I’m sure you do, my lord. But when you said you liked my tarts, I thought you wanted more.”

She was still standing close and it was driving him mad. The raindrops on her long eyelashes only made her eyes even more alluring.

“Yes, I do,” he answered, his hand resting on her shoulder. “You have no idea how much I crave your tarts.”

“My sister helps me make them, so it might be wise to let her stay.”

“Of course,” he said, getting lost in her eyes. “Wait a minute,” he mumbled, realizing she was catching him off guard yet again. “What about the man? He doesn’t look like a baker to me.”

“He’s not. But I figured you could use more help for the holidays. In the stable perhaps? He is good with horses and also very strong. He also likes dogs, so mayhap he’d be better suited for the kennels. I suppose you will be inviting some of the finest nobles to the castle for Christmastide?”

“Well...I...I, yes, I suppose so. Yes. Yes, I will.”

“Then you’ll need extra help. Oliver is your man.”

“I suppose I could use more help. All right. They can stay.”

“In a private room with me and my son.”

“You will be working in the kitchen. I can’t give you a room to yourself.”

“We are not serfs nor servants, my lord, if I must remind you. I own a business. A flourishing bakery that might fail now that you’ve taken me away during my busiest season. I’d think a small private room off the kitchen for my family would be a fair trade.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, not liking anyone to say he wasn’t fair. “There is an empty room off the kitchen. You need to move the extra food supplies in the room to the undercroft but you can use the space for yourself and the boy during your stay.”

“And my sister, too? I mean, she is very pregnant and won’t be able to sleep on the floor of the great hall in her condition.”

“Nay, I suppose not,” he found himself saying, not even sure why. “All right, but the man will sleep in the stable. I won’t have him in the same room as the women.”

“Oliver is married to my sister,” she told him. “It’s not like he is a lusty stranger.”

“I don’t care. I won’t have rumors stirring in my father’s castle in his absence. No man, just the boy in the room with the women, and that is final.”

“Fine.” She snatched up the heavy bag and continued to walk. “However, I think you should be the one to tell Oliver that he won’t be able to see to his wife’s needs during this crucial time.”

“Well, it’s not like she’s having the baby now. Is she?” He hurried to catch up with her.

“She is due in a week’s time. And I am sure you know that births cannot be planned. A child will come when it is time, no matter what you or anyone else says.”

“That is just great,” he mumbled, taking the heavy bag back from her and escorting her into the castle. He could just hear his brother Rook right now, reprimanding him, telling him that he was doing everything wrong. It would be hard enough to confront Rook when he found out he didn’t really punish the thief after all. But if Tolin gave a private room to not only the baker wench and the boy thief, but a pregnant woman and a strange man, too, all hell was probably going to break loose. He couldn’t lose control so easily. Nay, the wench was not getting everything she wanted. This was supposed to be a punishment, not a reward. Still Tolin didn’t have it in him to turn away a child and pregnant woman.

“I’ll tell Oliver he needs to sleep in the barn,” he said, not wanting to lose. He needed to keep the upper hand. Once again, the wench bested him with her little games and he didn’t like it. Well, he had games he’d play with her and next time he would be the one to win. That was something he would be sure to make happen. Now, he just needed to keep a close eye on the wench because he had a feeling wherever Kit Baker was, trouble was about to follow.