BlackWolfe

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  William was genuinely distressed for the old knight he’d once known. “None of this is your fault,” he said. “Men choose their own paths, Thaddeus. It seems that Daniel chose his long ago.”

  Thaddeus nodded, scratching his head before turning away from the sight. “He did,” he said. “His mother chose it for him. I will seek her now and tell her that Daniel has died in an… accident. That is what I will tell Wereford, too. Then I will remove my wife from The Mount, take her back home, and stay there. There is no use bringing you more grief than you already have, and I do not want any more shame brought down upon the de Motte name. Let this madness be finished.”

  With that, he headed to the door but William stopped him. “What would you have us do with Daniel?” he asked. “Shall we send him with you to Deauxville Mount?”

  Thaddeus paused, looking at the body on the floor. “I should have pity for his mother, but I cannot seem to muster it. Throw his body in the river. I care not what you do with it. Do not send it to me or to The Mount. I would prefer to think he never existed.” He paused, his gaze moving between William and Edward. “You know, you are a very fortunate man, de Wolfe. I hope you know how fortunate you really are.”

  William could feel the old knight’s sorrow and it was difficult not to become swept up in it. He simply lifted a hand to him, one of peace and comfort, and Thaddeus continued his trek from the chamber. Before he could get free of it completely, Edward called out to him.

  “Thaddeus,” he said, Cassiopeia still in his arms. “Thank you… for my father’s life. You have my eternal gratitude.”

  Thaddeus paused in the doorway to look at him, feeling a great deal of turmoil in many different ways. But he couldn’t put it into words, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

  “You are a good son, Edward,” he said quietly.

  With that, he was gone, leaving William and Paris and Deinwald, Edward and Cassiopeia and Hayes standing in William’s borrowed chamber with a dead body at their feet. Edward let go of Cassiopeia long enough to go to his father, seeing to the man’s health.

  “Are you well, Father?” he asked seriously. “Is the shoulder wound the only wound?”

  William nodded, his gaze moving to Daniel. “It was only by luck that it was,” he said. “He’d brought an arsenal of daggers to throw at me. Any one of them could have taken me down and it never would have made a sound.”

  Edward sighed faintly, realizing just how close they’d come to disaster. “I met Thaddeus in Wooler,” he said. “He told me that Daniel was really de Troiu’s son and how he’d been planning your death for years. I tried to make it back as fast as I could to tell you. Thank God I made it when I did.”

  William reached out, cupping Edward’s chin with his big hand. “My son, the diplomat,” he murmured, a glimmer of mirth in his eye. “My son, the great warrior. It took courage and skill to do what you did. I am proud of you.”

  Edward smiled weakly. “If that is true, then reward me by negotiating a bride,” he said, gesturing to Paris. “There is her father. Talk to him.”

  They turned to Paris, who was still leaning up against the wall, pale and in pain, as Deinwald finished securing a bandage around his torso. When he saw William and Edward looking at him, he waved them off with irritation.

  “Now?” he said. “Look at me. I have just been speared and you wish to speak of betrothals?”

  William fought off a grin. “You are on your feet. It cannot be so bad.”

  “It is not,” Deinwald grumbled.

  Paris scowled at him. “Shut your lips,” he said. “You know nothing.”

  Deinwald finished with the bandage. “He caught you right above your hip,” he said. “Nothing vital was hit, although it is a deep puncture. You will survive.”

  Paris, who was one of the best healers in all of Northern England, didn’t appreciate Deinwald’s assessment. “Go away from me,” he commanded. “Go back and watch the gatehouse like a guard dog. That is all you are good for. Leave the healing to those who know what they are doing.”

  William started to laugh. Paris and Deinwald had been grumbling at each other for over fifty years, so this was nothing new.

  “You and Hayes can make arrangements for Daniel’s corpse,” William said to Deinwald. “I do not want it thrown in the river, as Thaddeus suggested. Find out where Daniel de Troiu was buried and make arrangements to bury his son with him. De Motte wanted to honor is father. Let him sleep with him for eternity. Then someone had better tell Adam what has happened. He will want to know. And he will want to know that he was right all along.”

  Deinwald nodded as he and Hayes went to the corpse, yanking the broadsword out of the neck and handing it back over to Edward. Covering the body up with the coverlet from William’s bed, they hauled it from the chamber as Cassiopeia buried her face in Edward’s chest, not wanting to look at it.

  For her, for all of them, it was finally over.

  “Then de Motte really was de Troiu’s son?” Paris asked. “Adam was correct.”

  William nodded. “He was,” he said. “I should have listened to him. It might have prevented all of this.”

  “I doubt it,” Edward said. “Thaddeus said that Daniel had been planning your death for years. I doubt even knowing that could have made the situation any different. Daniel had to show himself for you to do anything about it, and he did.”

  William grunted. “Indeed, he did,” he said. “He was a confused, misled man. But you… feel no guilt about what happened, Eddie. You did what you had to do. Daniel paid the price for his hate and ambition.”

  Edward simply nodded. Oddly, he felt no guilt in killing the man, which made him feel guilty about that. It was a vicious circle. The only things he cared about at the moment was that his father was safe, that Cassiopeia was safe, and that the threat from Daniel de Motte was eliminated. As long as those three things were in his favor, nothing else mattered.

  He could take on the world.

  “You are right, Papa,” he said softly, reaching out for the man. “Now, let me help you lay down. You should rest with that wound.”

  “Not in this room,” Paris said, gesturing to the pool of blood on the floor. “We will not discuss our children’s future with the shadow of death hanging over us. Come with me, William. Let us retreat to my chamber where my wife will take good care of us both, and we may discuss this betrothal contract.”

  Edward took hold of his father while Cassiopeia rushed to Paris’ side, helping him to lean on her as she aided him from the chamber.

  “I expect a big dowry,” William said. “Edward will not marry a pauper.”

  Paris tried to turn around to scowl at him, but his sore torso prevented it. “To the Devil with you, de Wolfe,” he grunted. “You have stripped me of two dowries already and now you need a third?”

  “Edward needs it.”

  Edward shook his head. “Father, I…”

  “Quiet, Eddie. If you want to learn the real art of negotiation, watch your Uncle Paris and me. We know how to make a deal.”

  Edward rolled his eyes. “The next time I want to broker a marriage between two warlords, this shall come in handy,” he said sarcastically, watching Cassiopeia turn around and laugh at him. “The next time the king demands compliance from a Welsh warlord, I will know how to demand a dowry for peace.”

  Cassiopeia’s laughter was music to his ears. Even as Edward escorted his wounded father up the stairs, he couldn’t remember feeling so joyful or carefree. In spite of the circumstances, of the death and fear, it was the best day of his life. For a man who had spent his entire adult life driven by ambition and politics, of feeling as if he were somehow different from the rest of his family, to know the joy of a future with the woman he was very quickly coming to adore was something he could have never imagined. As unexpected as it was, it was the stuff life was made from.

  The Black Wolfe had finally found its mate. And just as all wolves, it would be a mate for life.

&nbs
p; In this life and beyond.

  EPILOGUE

  Northwood Castle

  Three weeks later

  The wedding night

  “Papa, go,” Cassiopeia insisted, trying not to sound irritated. “I will be fine. I shall see you in the morning.”

  Paris was blindingly drunk. His youngest daughter’s wedding was reason enough for him. It reminded him of Helene’s wedding, his last daughter to marry, as she had been afraid of her wedding night and had sat up most of the night in the great hall with her father, holding his hand while he tried to convince her that she needed to go to her husband. Helene had been so sweet, but a little weak at times. A fragile flower, he liked to call her.

  But not Cassiopeia.

  She couldn’t get rid of her father fast enough.

  “Are you sure you do not need me, sweetheart?” Paris was halfway in through the doorway as William, nearly equally drunk, tried to pull him out. “I can stay with you a while if you need me. I will fend off your amorous husband. He cannot have you until I say he can have you!”

  It was so ridiculous that it was comical. Edward was in the chamber, watching his new father-in-law make an absolute fool of himself. But he stayed out of it, knowing his interference would not be well-met. He would have to let his wife handle her hysterical father.

  “Papa, I am fine,” Cassiopeia insisted, shoving her father out. “Go away or you will never have any grandchildren!”

  With Cassiopeia pushing and William pulling, Paris stumbled out of the doorway. When he was free and clear, Cassiopeia hurriedly shut the door and bolted it. She turned towards her new husband only to hear her father on the other side of the door, rattling the latch and begging her to open it. She pointed at the door, laughing.

  “Do you hear him?” she demanded, snorted. “You would think he had not been through this twice before.”

  Edward couldn’t help but laugh. “You are not only his youngest, but you are his only daughter left,” he said. “It is understandable. If I permitted you to have any daughters, then I would understand his perspective. As it is, I will never know.”

  Cassiopeia continued laughing. “You are putting a great deal of pressure on me, you know. What if we only have girls?”

  Edward shook his head, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soft mouth, her soft skin, as he pulled her towards the bed. “That will never happen,” he said, his mouth on hers. “Only sons. Shall we give it a try?”

  Cassiopeia threw her arms around his neck in response. Truth be told, they’d already had a practice run for this night, last week when she succumbed to him one night after everyone had gone to bed. Edward had been visiting Northwood and had snuck into her chamber when he was sure Paris wasn’t watching her door any longer. It had been a night of awakening and discovery, and she was more than eager to experience it again. That was why she’d been so eager to get her father out of the chamber.

  She wanted Edward in the worst way.

  Now, there was nothing to delay them.

  Edward’s lips claimed hers, in earnest now. She was quite responsive in his arms, willing to learn, willing to be touched. Kissing her deeply, he slid the blue silk gown from her shoulders. The room was dark and Cassiopeia’s felt no embarrassment that she was quickly standing naked, her dress around her feet. Edward’s big arms enclosed her, covering her naked body, and giving her a sensation of utter safety and warmth.

  Before she realized it, Cassiopeia was lying atop the big bed, strewn with fresh linens and rose petals. Edward’s muscular arms enveloped her, her tender skin against his chest, covered with a fine matting of dark hair. Cassiopeia ran her hands over the fuzzy warmth, remembering it well from the first time he’d bedded her. Edward, sensing her willingness to explore, gently grasped a breast. If she was going to fondle his chest, he was going to fondle hers.

  His hand was hot. Cassiopeia could feel a great heat over her breast, arching her back into him as he began to squeeze. It created a tingling sensation between her legs, a sensation she very much wanted to experience again. The junction between her legs grew more heated as he massaged her breast, pinching her nipples before finally lowering his head to capture one in his mouth. He suckled hard.

  Cassiopeia gasped with the raw pleasure of it. Edward held her firmly, easing her into the world of passion. Not wanting to keep her waiting too long, and not wanting to wait himself, his free hand moved to the dusting of curls between her legs and he began to stroke her. Cassiopeia purred like a kitten as Edward murmured in her ear, kissing the tender lobe. As she trembled, he wedged himself between her legs.

  Edward wanted to spend all night playing with her, discovering his new wife. The power of this moment wasn’t lost on him, an emotional attachment he never thought he would experience. He wanted to make love to her in the worst way, to demonstrate the feelings that had exploded for her. That annoying little girl was now a woman he couldn’t get enough of. One hand fumbled with his hose, freeing his engorged manroot, and as he trapped her arms over her head, he kissed the underside of her arms, running his tongue down her neck and chest.

  She tasted like flowers.

  His penetration into her quivering body was slow, steady. She responded to him, thrusting her hips forward to draw him inside of her and he coiled his buttocks, answering her demand. Her legs came up to embrace his hips and his arms tightened around her, the teeth that had nibbled her lobe continuing to bite her gently. He thrust into her steadily, reacquainting her with the feel of his body, imprinting himself upon her as she would be imprinted upon him. They belonged to each other now and nothing could ever take that away.

  It was pure bliss.

  Usually, Edward could hold out his own pleasure, arousing a woman to her release with skill and patience. But there was something about Cassiopeia’s body against his that shattered his control. Perhaps it was the way her hips met his every thrust. Or perhaps it was in the way that she held him, as if to never let him go. Each powerful stroke brought him closer to the brink but he was determined that she should know pleasure first before he took his own pleasure. Grinding his pelvis against hers as he thrust deep, he only had to do that twice before her body was convulsing.

  Cassiopeia cried out into his shoulder, the sound absorbed by Edward’s damp flesh. Her wet heat pulsated around him, pulling at him, and he answered her call as he gave forth his release. But even when he was finished, he continued to move within her, not wanting the moment to end, until exhaustion finally overtook him and he collapsed on top of her, gathering her into his arms.

  He’d never known such deep and abiding satisfaction.

  “Are you well?” he whispered.

  Cassiopeia nodded, drawing him close and kissing his cheek. “Fine,” she said. “But I can still hear my father crying outside the door.”

  Edward thought she was jesting until he lifted his head. He hadn’t noticed it before, and thank God he hadn’t, but now he, too, could hear Paris’ muffled voice. He thought he heard his father’s, too, but he definitely heard his mother and she did not sound happy. He started to laugh; he simply couldn’t help it.

  “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “If I had heard that before, I doubt I would have been able to go through with this.”

  Cassiopeia was gigging like a fool. “I thought as much, but I am surprised you didn’t hear him,” she said. “It sounds like there is an entire army of people out there now, trying to get him to come away from the door.”

  Edward leapt out of bed, stark naked, his semi-flaccid member front and center. “I am going to answer the door just like this,” he threatened. “That should chase him away.”

  Cassiopeia couldn’t stop laughing. “Or give him heart failure,” she said. “Come back to bed. Do not let my overly-emotional father ruin this for us.”

  Edward listened to his wife, mostly because she looked positively delicious lying naked on the linens. Climbing back into bed, he stretched out over her, kissing her gently, thanking God yet again that he’d e
nded up with a woman who consumed his entire being. There were times when he still couldn’t believe it.

  “He will never ruin it for me,” he murmured between kisses. “I love you, Cassie. More than your father does.”

  She grinned. “You love me in a much different way than he does,” she said. “As you pointed out, I am his only daughter left.”

  “And you are my wife. That is the greatest love of all.”

  Cassiopeia’s smile faded as she ran her hand through his dark hair. “And you are my greatest love,” she whispered. “I will be sure to teach our daughters to flirt with men by throwing rocks at them. It worked for me.”

  “I told you – no daughters.”

  “We shall see.”

  Edward simply grinned in response as he swooped down on her, tasting her sweetness that was to become his life’s blood.

  For the serious young boy and the spoiled girl with the pebbles, life had turned out quite differently than they could have expected. In the years to come, unfortunately for Edward, he would have four beautiful daughters before he ever had a son, smashing his dreams of having thirty sons – only.

  But it didn’t matter. When his first daughter was handed to him, the name she bore was in honor of her long-dead aunt, Helene, and Edward was instantly, and deeply, in love. He didn’t care that his firstborn wasn’t a boy because he’d discovered that he’d rather liked girls.

  And one, in particular, more deeply than all the rest.

  The de Wolfe son who never felt part of the family, the great diplomat whose destiny was greater than all the others, had finally found that which he’d always strived for – a sense of belonging. All in the arms of a woman who had once been his greatest nemesis.

  The Black Wolfe was the black sheep no more.

  * THE END *

  Children of Edward and Cassiopeia

  Helene

  Phoebe

  Hestia

  Asteria

  Leonidas

  Dorian