“Ah, Eddie,” he said. “Have you seen Lady Cassiopeia? I was speaking to her, but when I turned my back, she disappeared. Someone said they saw her come out here.”
Edward had a feeling that Cassiopeia was hiding from Daniel considering she’d just pushed herself into a cluster of vines to get away from him. He kept an astonishingly straight face as he answered.
“She has gone back inside, I think,” he said. “I am surprised you did not see her. She went back in your direction.”
Daniel flashed him a grin that suggested he was intent on a conquest and dashed off the way he’d come. After several long seconds, when it was clear he’d gone off on a wild chase, Edward casually made his way over to the concealing vine.
“You can come out now,” he said. “He is gone.”
A somewhat messy red head emerged from the vines. In fact, her dress was catching on the branches as she pulled herself free, and Edward found himself helping her so she wouldn’t ruin her dress. It was politeness that did not go unnoticed.
“Thank you,” she said with more sincerity than he’d ever heard from her. “That man is not easily discouraged.”
Her words amused him. “Nay, he is not,” he said. “Were you not properly introduced to him?”
She nodded, picking leaves out of her hair. “Sir Daniel de Motte of Deauxville Mount,” she said. “Penny introduced us, but rather than a simple conversation, he wants to tell me the story of his life.”
“And you do not want to hear it.”
“I would like to sit with my family and speak to them, people I’ve not seen in years. But he would not let me go.”
Edward understood. “Then go inside and sit with your mother,” he said. “Daniel would not dare disrupt a conversation between you and your mother.”
Cassiopeia brushed the last of the leaves off her dress. “Are you certain? He seems rather bold.”
“I am certain. If he tries, I will distract him. Have no fear.”
Cassiopeia looked at him, then, gazing at him as if suddenly reevaluating him. “That is kind of you,” she said. Then she cocked her head at him. “You know, I find it very surprising that you should be so chivalrous.”
A smile played on his lips. “Why?”
She lifted her slender, white shoulders. “Because there were times in London over the past several years when you and I were in the same room together, but you never once spoke to me,” she said. “Not that you should; you are a very important man and I am no one of consequence. But I thought you did not even remember me.”
It was a conversation that could very easily go in one of two directions – either he could insist he remembered her and perhaps the conversation might even become pleasant, or he could tell her he’d deliberately avoided her and the war between them would start anew.
Although Edward was on his guard with her, and really had no intention of striking up any kind of a renewed acquaintance with her, he couldn’t bring himself to be deliberately cruel. It simply wasn’t in his nature.
Even if she had annoyed the hell out of him, once.
“Of course I remember you,” he said. “But we travel in two different worlds. Unfortunately, there was never any time for socializing in mine.”
She nodded in understanding. “You have a great reputation,” she said. “Your father must be very proud.”
Edward shrugged modestly. “My father has many sons,” he said. “I am one of six. I am sure he is proud of all of us, so long as we uphold the de Wolfe tradition of service.”
“But you do not lead armies as your brothers do.”
“Nay, I do not, but that does not make me any less a warrior. My father understands that.”
“I did not mean that it should make you any less than your brothers. I simply meant that…”
“There you are!”
Penelope was suddenly rushing out into the moonlit courtyard, heading directly for Cassiopeia. “Come inside!” she demanded. “Alys and Gerard have arrived!”
She was yanking on Cassiopeia, pulling her back into the hall and leaving Edward standing there, wondering if they’d just been verging on a battle or if they’d come close to having a civil conversation.
And he couldn’t quite decide how he felt about it.
Aye, she was pretty. Actually, beyond pretty. Edward remembered her two older sisters and although they were quite lovely, they didn’t have the sheer lushness that Cassiopeia had. It was difficult to describe what he meant by lush, but it had to do with her shape of her lips and the sparkle in her eyes. Those were terms he never thought he’d use when it came to Cassiopeia de Norville. Unruly, petulant, wicked… aye, those were more like her. But lush? Beautiful?
Hell had frozen over.
With a chuckle, he headed back into the hall.
Daniel spied her over by the dais where the happy couple was just taking their seats.
Cassiopeia de Norville.
Even if she wasn’t a de Wolfe, she was the next best thing. Up until he laid eyes upon her, his best and only option to marry into the House of de Wolfe had been Penelope, but she was more revered by the family than the Christ child, and someone like him would have no chance of marrying the lass. As he’d told her brother, she was rather young, but in a year or two, she wouldn’t be.
And then Cassiopeia came into his life.
Figuratively, anyway. He’d come to this grand celebration as a rather hopeless man, but she renewed his hope and his vigor. Even if she wasn’t a de Wolfe, she was close enough. Through her, all things would be possible. It was something he’d been planning for since he’d been old enough to understand that William de Wolfe had killed his father.
That, of course, had been a long time ago. Daniel never even knew his father, though he bore the man’s first name. It was a common name and nothing that would link him to the man who had sired him. Everyone thought that Daniel’s father was Thaddeus de Motte, a decorated knight for Henry III, but that wasn’t the truth. Thaddeus had married Daniel’s mother when she’d been pregnant with him.
She hadn’t even been married to Daniel’s father.
But Thaddeus, past his prime and overwhelmed by the woman’s flirtation, had succumbed to her, bedded her, and then she informed him that she was pregnant with his child.
That’s how she’d trapped the man into marriage and saved her reputation.
But his mother had been a bitter, vindictive woman. Bitter against what the world had done to her, bitter against William de Wolfe in particular. As Daniel understood it, William had resisted her flirtations while she was part of the queen’s court during the reign of Henry, and William’s wife had even physically attacked her for trying to seduce her husband.
With his mother, the hatred of all things de Wolfe began.
Then came the death of Daniel’s father. He’d been a warlord, one of Henry’s retinue, and a favorite of the king. Where Daniel’s mother had failed to seduce de Wolfe, she succeeded with Daniel de Troiu. As his mother told it, de Troiu had brutally bedded her day and night, for two days, during which time she conceived. His mother, the former Lady Miranda le Londe, had hoped to marry de Troiu and become a baron’s wife, but de Wolfe had killed the man in an ambush before that marriage could happen.
Therefore, Daniel had grown up on the milk of vengeance, fed bitterness and hatred towards the House of de Wolfe until it was something ingrained in him. Instead of being a baron’s wife, Miranda had to settle for an aging knight who had been rich enough, but emotionally unequipped for his high-strung wife, and she’d blamed de Wolfe for her misery.
Daniel had grown up knowing he was the son of another man. In truth, he looked just like his father – dark hair, bright blue eyes. He looked exactly like de Troiu, the former lord of Deauxville Mount, a property that had been in the de Troiu family for generations until de Wolfe murdered Daniel. After that, the property reverted to the crown, who gave it over to Viscount Wereford, the son of the Earl of Cumberland. Wereford’s son now held Deauxville
Mount, a vast and powerful fortress, and it was where Daniel had returned after he’d fostered.
Whether or not Thaddeus de Motte knew Daniel was the son of another man was a point of speculation; if he did, he’d never acknowledged it. He’d never treated Daniel as anything less than his blood son. When Daniel wanted to go north to serve at Deauxville Mount, Thaddeus had written to Wereford to accept his son’s fealty, and Wereford had been more than willing to comply.
Now, Daniel was back where he belonged, at a property that was his birthright. It would be his again, one day, and now that he’d met Cassiopeia de Norville, she would play into those plans. Daniel had come to Deauxville Mount for a purpose, and anyone that stood in his way had been quietly dealt with. Three fine knights who had stood between him and command of Deauxville’s army had found that out the hard way.
Soon enough, de Norville and de Wolfe would start to feel his wrath.
And no one would know anything about it until it was too late.
CHAPTER THREE
“Alys, you remember Cassiopeia de Norville, don’t you?” Penelope asked as she held the bride’s hands. “Cassie has just returned to us from London.”
Alys de Royans de Wolfe smiled as Cassiopeia kissed her cheek. A pretty girl with a dimpled chin and big brown eyes, she was vivacious and cultured.
“Of course I do,” Alys said, looking Cassiopeia up and down. “It has been a very long time, but we knew each other as children. Cassie, I seem to remember you following boys around with a big switch in your hand and smacking them when they would not do your bidding.”
Cassiopeia laughed softly. “I have found that the older boys become, the more that does not work,” she said. “I prefer to use tact and diplomacy to get my way these days.”
As the women laughed, Alys’ new husband, Gerard de Wolfe, accepted a kiss from his young cousin, Penelope. Gerard was dark-haired and handsome, like the rest of the de Wolfe men, and he was styled Lord Essington. His older brother, Robere, had assumed the Earldom of Wolverhampton, the de Wolfe’s traditional seat, several years ago upon the passing of William de Wolfe’s eldest brother.
“Cassie, I recall you when you were very little,” Gerard said. “I remember a lass who would throw rocks with great accuracy and then hide behind her brothers so that she could not be punished.”
Cassiopeia shook her head in resignation. “I am coming to see that I must repair my damaged reputation,” she said. “I swear that I do not throw rocks any longer. Or follow boys with sticks.”
Gerard grinned. “That is good to know,” he said. “And how are your parents?”
Cassiopeia pointed over to the feasting table near the east wall. “They are very well,” she said. “They will personally deliver their congratulations to you and your lovely bride.”
Alys clung to her new husband, who was considerably older than she was. “Will you be staying at Northwood very long, Cassie?” she asked. “It would be lovely to see you before your return to London.”
Cassiopeia shook her head. “I am not returning to London,” she said. “I have come home to stay. I am sure I can convince my father to allow me to visit you. Where will you and Gerard be residing?”
Alys looked at Gerard, her eyes glimmering with adoration. “Now that we are allied with Wolverhampton, Papa has given Gerard the castle at Stonefield,” she said. “He wants Gerard to come north and bring his army so he can help Papa protect this portion of the border.”
But Gerard shook his head. “I do not like being right on the border and I do not like you being right on the border,” he grumbled. “You know this.”
Alys lay her head sweetly on his arm. “But you do not have to worry about the Scots,” she said. “They are quite over the fact that Papa turned down their offer of marriage for me.”
Gerard sighed sharply, looking to his new wife and patting her on the cheek. “Dear girl,” he muttered. “The Scots do not forget that easily. They do not forget that your father chose me over a clan chief’s son. You and I sitting right on the border, as man and wife, would be taunting them about it.”
As Alys smiled, completely indifferent to Gerard’s concerns, Penelope spoke quietly. “I heard that the Kerrs of Swanlaw made a great offer for Alys,” she said. Since Penelope trained like a knight and fought like a knight, she knew of all the politics on the borders. “I heard my father say they offered sheep and cattle and gold for Alys’ hand.”
Gerard wasn’t entirely pleased to know that his young cousin knew such details. “They offered a great deal and were quite insulted when I was chosen over some foolish Scots lad,” he said. “Therefore, I do not want to sit on the border with my new wife. It would be tempting the laws of providence. I would rather be safe several hundred miles south at Essington Castle where I belong.”
Alys merely shrugged, gazing adoringly at her husband, completely smitten with him. But the conversation was quickly concluded when more well-wishers pushed their way forward, ousting Penelope and Cassiopeia. They were heading back to the feasting table where the rest of the families were when they were ambushed from behind.
Daniel de Motte had made an appearance.
“Lady Cassiopeia,” he said, coming up beside her. “I have been looking for you. Where did you rush off to?”
Cassiopeia recoiled from the man, startled, and accidentally plowed into Penelope as she drew back.
“I… I have been here all along,” she said, trying to put space between them because Daniel was too close. “I have not seen some of my family in a very long time, so I am sure you can understand that I wish to give them my attention.”
Minstrels were starting up over near the hearth and couples were lining up as the musicians warmed up. Strains of the citole stolen by James earlier, and a flute, could be heard over the buzz of the hall. Over to their right, Alys squealed in delight and began yanking at Gerard, pulling the reluctant man towards the floor where the dancers were gathering. Even Penelope was pulled away by Kevin, who was trying very hard to convince her to dance with him. The ensuing argument was comical.
But Daniel didn’t give them a glance; he was singularly focused on Cassiopeia.
“Your family will have you all to themselves when this celebration is over, and I shall have to return to Deauxville Mount,” he said. “Mayhap I shall not see you again for some time, if ever. It is rare that such beauty is in our midst. Would you not indulge me a few moments of your time?”
Cassiopeia eyed him; he was handsome, and spoke eloquently, but he came on quite forcefully and that was something she didn’t like. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to him, but he seemed to want to monopolize her time. On this evening of evenings, she didn’t want to be tied down to any one person, and especially not to a man she didn’t know.
“Mayhap later,” she said. “At the moment, there are many people I wish to see and speak with, people I’ve not seen in years, so mayhap later on once I have seen everyone.”
The smile on Daniel’s face turned into something of a grimace. “If that is your wish, my lady,” he said. “Thank you for your consideration. But… but might I ask for a dance before you go? A dance and a promise to grant me some of your time later this evening?”
Cassiopeia looked at Penelope, who rolled her eyes. She hated men and their sweet words. Before Cassiopeia could respond, however, a big body was suddenly between her and Daniel, and someone had her by the hand as he pulled her away.
“The lady has promised this dance to me, de Motte,” Edward said as he pulled Cassiopeia away. “You shall have your chance with her later.”
Frustrated, Daniel put his hands on his hips, scowling at Edward as he pulled Cassiopeia towards the floor where the dancers were gathered. Already, they were starting their dance, men and women joining up at this point, couples walking circles around one another. But Cassiopeia came to a halt just before they reached the edges of the dance area.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded quietly.
Edward t
ugged on her wrists, pulling her out into the dancers and lining up with her as he began to dance. “I was saving you,” he said, waving his hand at her to get her moving. “Move your feet, my lady. Surely they taught you this dance in the halls of Lady de Russe’s house.”
Slightly aggravated, Cassiopeia began to move. “Of course I know this dance,” she said irritably as they turned circles around one another. “And I do not need for you to save me from him. I can handle him quite ably.”
Edward cocked a dark brow. “Not him,” he said. “He is a hunter, my lady. Always on the hunt for companionship, if you get my meaning.”
Even if Daniel had been annoying, Cassiopeia didn’t like the fact that Edward didn’t seem to think she could take care of herself. “I have spent many years in London,” she said. “I have seen my share of hunters, fornicators, and adulterers. I do not need you to point them out to me.”
“Then I would hate to see you survive London only to fall prey to Daniel de Motte.”
“I am not falling prey to anyone.”
It was the point in the dance when the man and woman put their arms around each other’s waist, with their hands touching overhead. Edward reached out and pulled her against him, his strong arm on her torso as she reluctantly did the same with him. With hands touching over their heads, they moved in a slow circle to the music.
But something was happening.
Cassiopeia’s heart was pounding as she gazed into his eyes. The man had the de Wolfe size and the family comely good looks, no doubt. He was tall and broad-shouldered, regal and masculine and handsome. That’s what all the maidens in the London social circles said about him – Edward de Wolfe is so handsome! Don’t you think he’s handsome?
Cassiopeia had heard those silly questions and she’d never once told her friends or acquaintances that she had known Edward de Wolfe from childhood, more than likely because he’d never once acknowledged her and, as she’d told him, she didn’t think he remembered her. She wouldn’t embarrass herself acknowledging a man who wouldn’t even speak to her.
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