“You are touching me.”
Their shoulders were touching. William moved so that they were no longer brushing against each other.
“Better?”
“Go back to the chair.”
“Shut up and go to sleep.”
Grumbling, Paris rolled over, but he didn’t protest further. Oddly enough, there was some comfort with another body in the bed, even if it was William.
It was just like old times, when they had been young and forced to sleep in the same bed. It took Paris back to the days of William and Kieran and himself, the three of them inseparable. Days of adventure and glory.
God, he missed those days.
Morning came before he realized it.
CHAPTER SIX
“Aunt Jemma?” Hector hissed.
Cassiopeia waved her hands at him. “Shush,” she said. “Keep your voice down. Do you want the whole of Northwood to hear you?”
It was morning on a bright and lovely day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the day had dawned particularly cold. There was that crisp feel of autumn everywhere, a brisk breeze blowing the leaves around the bailey, but inside the keep, the situation was anything but crisp.
Bristling was more like it.
Cassiopeia was facing off against her brothers, Hector and Adonis.
“Nay, I do not want everyone to hear me,” Hector said in a surprising show of passion. “I do not want anyone to hear this ridiculous suggestion. Do you actually think that Papa will keep company with Aunt Jemma? She hates the sight of him!”
Cassiopeia was calm. “She does not hate him,” she said. “You’ve only heard the stories about them in the past.”
“I’ve heard about the battles. They are legendary.”
“But you’ve never actually seen them fight.”
That gave Hector pause. “That is true, but I’ve heard him call her Banshee.”
“It does not mean they hate each other. It means nothing.”
Hector rolled his eyes. “Means nothing? Are you daft? Those two have a long-standing dislike and everyone knows it. How can you be in favor of Papa courting a woman he doesn’t even like?”
Cassiopeia stood her ground. “I do not believe he dislikes her. Furthermore, the man is so lonely and grief-stricken over Mama’s passing that he tried to drown himself in the river.” She watched Hector as his features slackened and he briefly hung his head. “You did not think I knew that, but I do. I saw it with my own eyes, Hector. The man is trying to kill himself because he has no comfort, nothing to live for, no woman to love him. You would rather see him alone and miserable than see him keep company with a woman he’s known most of his life?”
Hector looked at Adonis, who simply shook his head. He hadn’t been there when his father had been fished out of the river, but Hector had told him what he’d seen. That they’d all seen. He was still having trouble coming to grips with it. But the suggestion from Cassiopeia that they help their father by finding him companionship with an old friend who was more of an adversary at times was shocking at best.
“No one wants to see him alone and miserable, Cassie,” Adonis said quietly. “But what you are suggesting is inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” Cassiopeia frowned. “Why would you say such a thing? I would never do anything inappropriate when it came to Papa and I resent you saying so.”
Adonis held up his hand to ease her. “I know you would not do it intentionally,” Adonis said rather strongly, pointing in a northerly direction, “but the man just tried to throw himself in the river. And you want to make a match and hope it solves the problem?”
“It is worth a try.”
“You cannot make that decision for him.”
Cassiopeia crossed her arms angrily. “So what would you suggest?” she said. “That we all take turns watching him so he is never alone for the rest of his life? You would rather make us all watchdogs so he doesn’t try to kill himself again rather than see if we can help him find some happiness?”
Adonis sighed sharply. “Of course not,” he said. “Apollo will be here later today from Berwick Castle. Mayhap he will have some insight into what we should do.”
Cassiopeia shook her head. “He is not around Papa all of the time like you and Hector are,” she said. “Ultimately, he will return to his command at Berwick and I will return to London with Edward. Do you and Hector plan to spend the rest of your lives making sure Papa doesn’t walk into that river again?”
“If we have to.”
Cassiopeia rolled her eyes in frustration. “That does not solve the problem. Papa is lonely; don’t you see? He needs what we all have – companionship with someone special. He needs to feel like a husband again and have someone to take care of. Don’t you understand that?”
It was a circular argument – the sons saw the situation one way and Cassiopeia saw it another. Frustration was at its peak.
“You are going to do what you want, anyway,” Adonis said, throwing up his hands. “What happens when this… this coupling you are suggesting fails? He’ll be worse off than he was before.”
“But we have to do something,” Cassiopeia pleaded. “If we love him, it is our duty.”
Adonis shook his head. “I do not want to see him forced into a relationship with a woman he’s had a long history of tension with.”
“No one is forcing him, but it can be presented to him. It is his choice and we should let him make it.”
“Aye, you should.”
The response wasn’t from Adonis. Another participant entered the conversation. Startled, the three of them turned to see Paris stepping out of the shadows. Having just come down the stairs from the upper floors, he’d heard Hector’s voice before he heard Adonis’ or Cassiopeia’s. Following the sounds of their conversation, he found them in the great hall, debating his current situation, but he wasn’t going to let them take control of it.
He was their father, after all.
This was his issue.
“Greetings, Papa.” Cassiopeia went to him, putting her arms around him and kissing his cheek. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Paris looked at his youngest child and only living daughter. She was such a beautiful woman, so wise and reasonable. Since Caladora’s passing, she had stepped into the role of the family matriarch seamlessly and he’d been quite proud of her. When all else was crumbling around them, Cassiopeia had been the rock. Unfortunately, she lived in London with her diplomat husband, so Paris saw her infrequently. She wasn’t around all the time and it was clear that Hector and Adonis resented her interference.
But Paris didn’t. He smiled weakly at her.
“I am well,” he said, his gaze moving to Hector and Adonis. “Do not look at me as if I am going to crumble. Truly, I am well this morning. You needn’t worry.”
Hector came up beside his father, looking him over as he put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “It is good to see you up and about,” he said. “Will you sit with us for a few moments? We were just going to break our fast.”
Hector wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping his concern in check. He was almost nervous as he spoke to his father. Paris looked at his first born, putting a hand on his cheek.
“I will, but let me say something first,” he said. “You know that I do not show my emotions easily, nor do I speak of them. That was something your Uncle Kieran did quite ably but I have never been able to do so. But I want to say that… that I love you all very much. I am sorry if I frightened you. And that is all I will say about the situation.”
Hector grinned. It was true that his father had never been able to speak well on his emotions, but that was good enough.
“We love you, too,” he said. “And we are worried about you.”
“You should not worry.”
Cassiopeia was looking at her father closely, watching his expression and his body language. It seemed to her that he was simply saying the words he thought his children wanted to hear, projecting a façade of stone to convince every
one that he was fine. But that was her father; he could not, and would not, show weakness. He’d already done it yesterday and his little secret was out. His children knew what he had done and he was ashamed. Now, he was doing damage control.
He wanted to convince them that everything would be fine.
But Cassiopeia didn’t believe him for a moment.
“Papa, I was thinking of going into town today,” she said. “Will you please go with me? I want to see about commissioning something nice for Edward’s birthday and I need your expertise.”
Paris looked at her. “I would love to, but William and Jordan are returning to Castle Questing this morning and we are going with them.”
Cassiopeia’s eyebrows lifted. “We? You are going, too?”
“Aye.”
Cassiopeia was thrilled to hear that. She didn’t know how William convinced Paris to return with them to Castle Questing, but she didn’t ask. She was simply glad the man was going.
“I am very happy to hear that,” she said. “The children will be excited to see you again so soon. When shall we leave?”
Paris gestured in the direction of the stables. “I am to show William Adonis’ new stallion and then we shall depart,” he said, turning his focus to Adonis. “Will you prepare that beast to show your uncle? Word of the animal’s beauty has reached him.”
Adonis nodded. “Uncle William has an eye for good horse flesh,” he said. “Did you tell him I will not sell the horse to him?”
“I told him, but you may have to tell him also once he sees the animal. He may very well beg.”
Adonis smirked. “It will do no good,” he said. “I would sell my children before I sell that horse.”
“Do not let your wife hear you say that.”
They were moving towards the feasting table in the great hall as servants set out food. Most everyone at Northwood had already eaten, since it was an hour or two past dawn, so they had the hall to themselves. As Hector and Adonis took their seats and began reaching for the bread, cheese, and warmed wine, Cassiopeia sat next to her father. She didn’t let go of his hand the entire time.
“Papa, I was thinking,” she said, trying to make conversation that didn’t involve the events of yesterday since he’d been clear he didn’t want to speak on it. “Where are Mother’s things? Her dresses and belts and things? I packed them up, but I do not remember where you put them.”
Paris reached for a cup of wine that Hector handed him. “In trunks,” he said. “They are in the smaller chamber next to my bedchamber. Why do you ask?”
Cassiopeia accepted her own cup of wine from her brother. “Because Helene and Phoebe have asked if they can have some of her things,” she said. “I know Mother would love for them to wear her clothing and I think it would be a lovely tribute to her. The girls have grown so quickly lately and additional clothing would be welcome. Would it be okay to take a few things for them?”
Paris nodded. “Of course,” he said. “They will need altering, I am sure. Your mother was much taller than Helene and Phoebe.”
Cassiopeia sipped at her wine. “She certainly was,” she said. “Out of my sisters, only Athena inherited her height. I always wished I had.”
Paris buttered his bread. “Your mother was the tallest one out of her cousins,” he said. “She was several inches taller than Jordan and Jemma is shorter even than Jordan. Remarkable that Jemma had sons as tall as she did. I thought for certain they’d all be the size of a troll, just like her.”
Hector and Adonis started to laugh, but Cassiopeia frowned. Her father was only reinforcing what her brothers had been telling her – that their father and their Aunt Jemma had never gotten on. Cassiopeia felt the need to defend her Aunt Jemma.
“She is not the size of a troll,” she said firmly. “That was a cruel thing to say, Papa.”
Paris took a bite of bread. “Then what shall I compare her to? A stump?”
“Nay.”
“A mushroom? They are somewhat stumpy and bent over, like she is.”
Hector and Adonis almost snorted out their food, but Cassiopeia was quite annoyed. “Papa, it is simply mean for you to say such things about Aunt Jemma,” she said. “Why do you speak of her so? You do not speak of Aunt Jordan that way.”
Paris was focused on his food. “It is a long story with your Aunt Jemma,” he said. “It is the way of things. She has called me an arrogant ass on more than one occasion, or worse.”
“That does not mean it is polite to call her names. You have more dignity than that.”
Paris looked at her. “You think so, do you?” he said, swallowing the bite in his mouth. “I love you very much, Cassie, but I’ll not have you tell me how to speak.”
“I wasn’t trying to…”
He cut her off. “If I want to call Jemma a mushroom, I shall. And if I want to call her sweetheart, I shall – with no input, encouragement, or manipulation from you. My decision about her, or any woman, is my own. That goes for all my children. Is that clear?”
Cassiopeia sighed heavily, realizing he must have heard much of their conversation earlier. He was making his wishes known. “No one is trying to manipulate you,” she said. “We just want to see you happy.”
Paris leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek before standing up from the bench. “And I love you for it, but it is my choice,” he said. Then, he looked across the table at Adonis. “If I know your Uncle William, he is already in the stable figuring out how he can steal that horse. We should make sure he does not.”
Adonis bolted up from the table, mouth full, and charged out of the great hall. Paris’ gaze lingered on Cassiopeia.
“Be ready to depart for Castle Questing within the hour,” he told her. “I will give you a chance to see me insult your Aunt Jemma in person.”
He was grinning as he said it, turning to follow Adonis from the hall. Cassiopeia shook her head in frustration.
“He is a stubborn old fool,” she muttered.
Hector looked at his little sister. “He’s right, though,” he said. “Whatever he does, and whoever he does it with, is his decision.”
Cassiopeia knew that. Lifting her shoulders, perhaps in resignation, she followed her father from the hall, leaving Hector alone and wondering if this situation was going to get worse before it got better.
If it got better.
He was quite concerned with what would happen at Castle Questing and his Aunt Jemma, so concerned, in fact, that when the party from Castle Questing departed close to noon, Hector and Adonis rode escort.
Things were about to get interesting.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Castle Questing
It was a beautiful autumn day as Jemma sat in the garden of Castle Questing, embroidering a neckline of a garment belonging to her son Nathaniel’s little daughter, Rhoslyn. The little girl liked honey bees, so Jemma was embroidering charming bees on the neckline of a pretty blue tunic. It was tedious work, and took skill, but Jemma was quite capable.
She had all the time in the world these days.
The garden was one of her favorite spots at Castle Questing. She loved the flowers, the vines, in any season, and many was the time when her husband would find her sitting just where she was now, sewing on one of her many projects. Kieran had loved the garden, too, but only for a quiet place to sleep. She couldn’t count the times that he’d come out to find her and ended up laying across one of the stone benches, snoring softly as she sewed.
She missed those days.
Kieran had only been gone a few years but it seemed like forever. Last year, she’d awoken one morning in a panic because she couldn’t remember what he looked like. As the years passed, the memory of his face faded some, but she realized that it was only in his old age. She remembered perfectly what he looked like the day she’d met him – dark blond hair, a granite square jaw, and dark, brown eyes. When he smiled, big dimples carved into both cheeks.
That was the Kieran she remembered.
Forever young
.
Times like this, with the grandchildren playing and laughing, made her miss him all the more because he’d so loved his grandchildren. They called him Kee because his oldest grandson, as a toddler, would hear people calling him Kieran and all the child could pronounce was Kee. It was something all of the grandchildren had called him.
She knew they very much missed their Kee.
Sometimes, Jemma didn’t sew in the garden at all. Sometimes, she went into the chapel and sewed by his crypt, talking to him as she worked. He was sleeping in a sense and the only thing missing was his snoring. William had even had a stone bench installed in the chapel so she could sit next to Kieran’s crypt, a beautiful stone box with Kieran’s effigy on the top of it. But the more she talked to it, the more the silence was pronounced.
It was difficult to only hear one’s own voice.
But that was the nature of death. It took away loved ones, leaving sorrow in its wake. Kieran had been so sick towards the end of his life that Jemma had seen his death as a relief, as much as it had hurt her. But the man was no longer in pain and that was all she was concerned with. Her big, strong husband had spent his last days in bed and he had lamented time and time again that he hated her to see him like that.
Perhaps that’s why she only remembered the young and healthy Kieran these days.
That’s the way he wanted it.
As Jemma sat in the garden and stitched the bees, she could hear the activity in the bailey. The garden was situated so that it ran parallel to one wing of Castle Questing, with the bailey on the other side. She could hear some commotion and thought that William and Jordan had returned from Northwood Castle. Cassiopeia had gone with them, leaving her children behind with their father.
Even now, Cassiopeia’s middle children were playing with Jemma’s grandchildren, all of them having a marvelous time in the part of the garden that was a small labyrinth. She could hear the older children calling to each other, hiding from the younger ones. But then someone fell down and a cry went up. Jemma set her sewing aside and headed over to the labyrinth.
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