BlackWolfe

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BlackWolfe Page 12

by Le Veque, Kathryn


  The kitchen ovens were flaming full-bore and fresh bread began to fill the tables as exhausted men and hovering women sat down to Alys and Gerard’s wedding breakfast. In fact, Alys and Gerard were sitting at the table in front of her, along with all of the de Wolfe brothers, except for Edward, and many other knights who were wishing the couple a happy marriage with big cups of warmed wine. As Cassiopeia spied her mother and Penelope over at the next table, William walked up beside her.

  “I hear you are to be congratulated for your use of a crossbow,” he said, his expression filled with mirth. “And I thought Penny and Rhoswyn were the only women in this family who knew how to effectively use one.”

  Cassiopeia smiled up at the big man. “Penny would do well in a battle,” she said. “She is a warrior to the bone, as is Rhoswyn, but I am not. I much prefer to fire bolts from the safety of the keep.”

  “Understandable. And where did you learn such a talent as a crossbow?”

  “A knight I knew a few years ago taught me.”

  William put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Then for your skill, I thank you,” he said. “Now, may I ask you to do one more thing?”

  “Anything, Uncle William.”

  William released her and threw a thumb in the direction of the inner bailey. “Edward is feeling poorly about the battle,” he said. “He feels as if his negotiations failed and that he led us all into a fight. It is not true, of course, but do you think you could take him some food and, mayhap, show him some kindness? He might appreciate it.”

  Cassiopeia nodded firmly. “Of course, I will,” she said. “And he should not feel poorly. It was not his fault in the least.”

  “I know. But do not tell him I told you this. If he wants you to know, he will tell you. Let him think you are merely showing concern because he was up all night fighting a battle and, unlike men with wives, he has no one to tend to him.”

  Cassiopeia took her directive quite seriously. “I will do what I can.”

  As William headed off to find his wife, Cassiopeia found the nearest servant and confiscated a trencher. It was already partially filled with meat and gravy, but she went around the table spooning beans and boiled fruit into it. She even took the last of a chicken stew that Patrick seemed to be fond of but, as a gentleman, he let her have it. Apollo cut her off a couple of thick slices of warm bread, which she put on top of everything, and grabbing a full cup of warmed wine, she headed out into the inner bailey to find Edward.

  He was sitting on a fallen barrel over by the smithy shacks, in the shadows as the morning sun began to lift in the sky. He didn’t see her from the direction he was sitting, and it gave Cassiopeia a few unhindered moments to look him over and make sure he was in one piece.

  In truth, it eased her considerably.

  That concern she’d felt for him last night hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had anchored more deeply than before, and seeing the man somehow lightened her heart. In the shadows of the new morning, she could see his cropped hair, standing on end with sweat and dirt, and the square cut of his jaw, much like his father’s. He looked like his father a great deal, who was a handsome man, but Edward had something about him that was more than merely comely looks.

  He was darker, his skin swarthier, and he had broad, muscular shoulders and big hands. For some reason, Cassiopeia found his hands quite attractive. He had eyes that were a shade of hazel that appeared gold in certain light; she had noticed that last night. Odd how she’d never noticed it before, not in all the years she’d known him. And his smile… he had a brilliant smile with big, white teeth that was slightly crooked, but it only enhanced his male beauty. It was impish and sexy. She’d caught a glimpse of that smile last night and surely, it was enough to make any woman’s legs go weak.

  Edward had a sensuality in him that she didn’t see in any of his older, warring brothers.

  As Cassiopeia was studying him from behind, Edward happened to look up and see her approach. Startled that she’d been caught staring at him, she forced a smile as she approached, extending him the cup of warmed wine.

  “You did not come into the hall and I did not want you to miss the meal,” she said. “I thought I would bring you something to eat.”

  Edward eyed her with surprise, accepting the cup. “Thank you,” he said. “That was kind of you.”

  Cassiopeia’s smile turned genuine. “My brothers and your brothers are eating everything in sight,” she said. “If you waited any longer to attend the meal, I cannot promise there would be any food left.”

  Edward grinned, lopsided. “With that bunch, that is normal,” he said. He eyed the wine without lifting it to his lips. “I must say that I am unaccustomed to such gracious service when it comes to you. You have not been known to be particularly nice to me in the past.”

  Cassiopeia chuckled. “I know,” she said. “I suppose everyone is allowed to make amends. I promise I did not poison anything.”

  His gaze lingered on her a moment before taking a sip of his wine. It was good, and he was thirsty, so he drank it down in four large swallows. Smacking his lips, he reached out to take the trencher.

  “Let’s see what you have brought me,” he said.

  Cassiopeia pointed to the food on the trencher. “Beef and gravy,” she said. “I also took the last of the chicken stew. I think Atty wanted it.”

  Edward picked up a big piece of the bread and soaked it in the gravy. “He is too big already,” he said. “Thank you for stealing it away from him.”

  Cassiopeia laughed softly. “I risked my life in doing so.”

  Mouth full, Edward flashed her a smirk. “Speaking of fearing for your life, I hear you, Rhoswyn and my sister were the ones firing the bolts from the keep.”

  “It is true.”

  “Where did you learn to use a crossbow?”

  She shrugged, perching herself on the other end of his fallen barrel. “I fancied a knight a few years ago and he taught me,” she said. “Penny and I were laughing over it. I became better than he was, so he never spoke to me again.”

  Edward looked at her, his eyes glimmering with mirth. “And who was this fragile blossom whose pride you crushed?”

  “Therron de Mora,” she said. “He served Lord Tyrington.”

  “Cornwall?”

  “Aye.”

  “I think I know of him. A young man with red hair?”

  She nodded. “The reddest,” she said. “I thought for certain that learning a skill like that would carve my way into his heart. How wrong I was.”

  Edward shoveled more meat into his mouth. “It is his loss,” he said. “You do not want to be stuck down in Cornwall, anyway. ’Tis a dank and cursed place.”

  “And you have been there?”

  He nodded unhappily. “Unfortunately, I have,” he said, swallowing the bite in his mouth. He eyed her. “So you like men like de Mora, do you? What do you like about him?”

  Cassiopeia shrugged. “He was handsome, attentive,” she said. “At least, he was until he figured out that I could shoot a bolt better than he could.”

  “So you do not seek out men with money or fame?”

  She frowned. “Why should I? When I marry, I do not want to compete with such things. I have seen that men with money love their finances more than the women they are married to. I do not wish to be the mistress to my husband’s coinage.”

  Edward took another bite. “Well said. I have seen many marriages between greedy men and adoring women, and it never works out well, at least for the women.”

  Cassiopeia nodded in agreement, feeling as if their conversation had gone to a level it had never been before. Not in all the years she’d known him. He was being personable, not guarded like he usually was, and their words were informative and pleasant.

  Warm, even.

  “I suppose not,” she said. “May I ask you a question, Edward?”

  “Aye.”

  “I heard that the king granted you lands in Cumberland. Is that t
rue?”

  He sopped up gravy with the remainder of his bread. “In Kendal,” he said. “They border Scott’s lands. You are speaking to Lord Kentmere, by the way, and must show all due respect.”

  She promptly stood up and curtsied deeply. “My lord,” she said, grinning when she lifted her head. “I did not realize I was in the presence of such greatness.”

  “Never forget it.”

  “I will not, I promise,” she said. “Tell me of your lands. Are they rich and vast?”

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Verily,” he said. “Some of the richest in the north with sheep as far as the eye can see.”

  “Do you know a great deal about sheep, then?”

  He snorted. “I know nothing,” he said. “I have men in my employ who run the farming and mind the castle. My seat is a place called Seven Gates, named for the seven gates of Hell. There is a well on the property called Hell’s Well, and local legend says that it is a passage to the underworld.”

  Her eyes widened. “That is utterly fascinating. Have you seen this well?”

  He nodded. “It looks like any other well to me, except that strange sounds come out of it.”

  “It is not true!”

  “It is, I swear it.”

  Cassiopeia couldn’t be sure if he was simply trying to frighten her because it was difficult to tell. His expression was serious the entire time, as if he believed every word. No wonder the man makes such a fine politician, she thought.

  “If you say it is true, then I believe you,” she said. “But I want to see it for myself. I will have my father bring me to this place if you will allow it.”

  Edward turned his full attention on her. “Your father may not wish to travel all the way to Kendal,” he said. “If you are serious, then mayhap I shall make arrangements to send an escort for you. Or, you can go with me when I return.”

  “When are you returning?”

  He shrugged, finishing the last of the bread. “I am not entirely certain, but at some point, I will return. They are my lands, after all. I should come to know them.”

  “Then you do not intend to remain here in the north, with your family?”

  “I came home from London simply because I had not been home in ten years,” he said. “I am not sure why I came home, only that I felt it was important. I wanted to see my parents again, and my brothers. I wanted to see my family, whom I have been so removed from. But I suppose the reality is that I have always been removed from them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He suddenly became awkward, as if he hadn’t meant to share that particular opinion with her. As if it were a slip of the tongue, given the easy nature of the conversation.

  “Nothing really, I suppose,” he said. “I simply meant that I have been the one brother who has gone away and who has spent so much time away from Castle Questing. That makes me a stranger of sorts. I have nieces and nephews who do not know me. I do not have an outpost like my other brothers do; my castle is far from Castle Questing and her holdings.”

  “But you are next to Scott’s lands.”

  “That is true, but I am still isolated.”

  Cassiopeia was astute enough to realize that he was opening himself up to her, just a little, and she didn’t take it lightly. This was genuinely the first real, solid conversation she’d ever shared with the man and she was coming to see what all of the silly gossips in London saw in him. He wasn’t that young man from her childhood that she remembered so well. He was thoughtful, well-spoken, and intelligent. And that made him quite attractive.

  Edward de Wolfe had, indeed, grown up.

  “Every man has a different path to follow,” she said after a moment. “I have heard my father say that. Just because your brothers choose to remain here in the north, with your father, does not mean you must. You must do what makes you happy and I am sure Uncle William understands that. He speaks of you most proudly, Edward, truly. It does not seem to matter to him that you are not a knight in his army.”

  He looked at her, that adorable crooked grin tugging at his lips. “You have been talking to him about me?”

  It was her turn to grin, embarrassed. “Nay,” she said. “But I have heard him speak of you in the past, even before I went away to London. It seems that you and I have something in common – we are the wanderers of this extended family. We have followed a different path than the others.”

  “Then why did you come home?”

  Cassiopeia sighed faintly. “For my mother,” she said. “I know it has been nine years since my sisters died, but Papa has written to me over the years and alluded to the fact that my mother is very lonely without her daughters. I ignored it for years but, finally, I realized I could not ignore it any longer. I had to come home to be with her.”

  “That is very noble of you.”

  “Mayhap.” She looked out over the inner bailey, seeing the open doors to the hall and the people inside. “It is a very different world that I have returned to. I have met Scott and Troy’s wives and they are lovely women, but it seems so strange not to see my sisters at their sides. But the worst part is that two nights ago, before we came here, I realized that I do not even remember what my sisters looked like.”

  “That is natural. It has been many years.”

  “Were you here when they died?”

  He nodded faintly, his expression hinting at a memory that was best forgotten. “Aye,” he said. “I happened to be home, briefly, because I had brought my father a missive from the king. Sometimes I wish that I had not been there at all.”

  She looked at him. “Will you tell me what you saw?” she asked hesitantly. “I know it sounds morbid, but I came home for the funerals and everyone was so distraught, all I knew was that my sisters and their children had drowned in an accident. No one would tell me the details of it and I would not ask. I still do not feel as if I can ask my parents, but I can ask you. If you would not mind telling me.”

  Edward set the empty trencher aside as he considered his answer. He sensed a plea in her words, the desperation to know something that no one had been strong enough to speak of.

  “They had set out in a carriage to visit Atty in Berwick on that day,” he said quietly. “I was in the bailey of Castle Questing when Scott saw them off. I helped load the children into the carriage, in fact. Andrew, Scott’s little son, did not want to go and I had to catch him as he tried to run off. He was crying when I loaded him into that cab and if you think I do not have nightmares about that moment, still, then you would be wrong. Had I not put that child into the carriage, he would be alive today. But I put him in it and we watched the carriage depart with a full escort. Two hours later, everyone in that carriage was dead because a bridge over the River Till collapsed as they were crossing it and they all went in.”

  Cassiopeia was feeling a great deal of sorrow. She knew that, for the most part, but she didn’t know that Edward had played an active role in the situation. “You should not feel guilty over putting Andrew into the carriage,” she said softly. “Were you there when the soldiers brought them back?”

  He closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment. “I was,” he said. “I will not tell you about it. I want you to remember your sisters as they were.”

  “I barely remember them at all,” she insisted. “I am hoping this may help me somehow. I feel terrible that I do not remember what they look like, Edward. No one would ever talk about what happened so you are doing me a favor by telling me. Please.”

  He relented in spite of himself, unable to resist her soft pleading. “They were cold and wet,” he said quietly. “The soldiers who brought them back were weeping. They were draped over the soldiers’ horses and I will never forget seeing my father as he took Helene into his arms and wept. He sobbed, Cassie. It was a horrible moment for all of us, and for me as I took the wet, lifeless body of Andrew from a weeping soldier. Not two hours earlier, he had been alive and kicking in my arms. Now, he was dead. It was one of the worst
moments of my life. So if I can impress that upon you and not say anything more, I would be appreciative.”

  Cassiopeia had heard enough. Impulsively, she reached out to touch him gently on the arm. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For what you have told me, thank you. If it brought back terrible memories, I am sorry for it, but that is more than I have heard in nine years.”

  “Does it help you?”

  “I think so.” Standing up, she brushed off her yellow silk, the party dress she had arrived in yesterday that now looked bright and out of place in the casual air of morning. “I will always be grateful that you took the time and effort to tell me what no one else would. And with that thought, I must say something to you, too.”

  “What?”

  “That you have been kind to me and I am very sorry for tormenting you in the past,” she said, her hazel eyes glimmering. “I was a terrible, nasty child and I know I made you miserable at times, so I am deeply and sincerely sorry for that. You were such a stoic young lad and I was a hellion. I have grown out of that rotten phase and as an adult, I am embarrassed for it. I will never torment you ever again. Will you please accept my apology?”

  He grinned at her, laughing softly as he scratched his head. “I will.”

  “Good. May we be friends?”

  His golden eyes glimmered at her. “I would like that.”

  She smiled in return, nodding her head as she agreed with him. She would like that, too. There was a strange warmth between them that had never been there before, but one Cassiopeia knew she could grow to like. Now that they were no longer wary of each other, or belligerent, perhaps they could start anew.

  It was a rather exciting thought.

  “Then I have taken enough of your time this morning,” she said, feeling just the least bit awkward and perhaps even giddy. “I should go into the hall and see if I can be of any assistance there. I will leave you to your thoughts, Edward.”

  As she turned away, a word from him stopped her.

  “Wait.”

  She did, pausing to look at him and seeing that he was standing up from his barrel, collecting his empty wine cup. When their eyes met, he smiled weakly.

 

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