The kiss to her hand wasn’t enough. One moment, he was holding her hand and in the next, he was holding her. It happened so fast. She was in his arms and nothing in the world had ever felt so right or so true. She was soft and supple, her body against his, and he slanted his lips over hers.
He could feel her tremble.
It wasn’t a lusty kiss, not at first. He simply wanted to taste her. But she was collapsing against him, her flesh quivering in his embrace, and his kiss turned hungry. It had been close to seventeen years since he’d last kissed a woman, close to seventeen years since his body had known the pleasure of the female form, and that need inside of him came roaring back to life.
Time stood still as he feasted on her lips, feeling her arms wrap around his neck, smelling her sweet scent in his nostrils. The kiss had been as unexpected as the betrothal itself, and he forced to himself to release her before he lost control completely. As he loosened his grip, she very nearly fell to her knees.
Tor grabbed her.
“Are you well?” he asked.
She grinned, mortified and lightheaded. “Of course,” she said. “I… I just need to catch my breath.”
He smiled at her. “So do I.”
She laughed softly. “You are at least on your feet,” she said. “I think the last time I was in your arms was when you saved me from that wild horse. It was a different situation.”
“Aye, quite.”
“I like this one better.”
“So do I.”
They smiled at each other for a moment and Isalyn reached up, wiping away the saliva from his bottom lip. Her heart was thumping so hard that she could hear it in her ears.
“It has been a momentous day, to be sure,” she murmured, her hand on his face. “A long ride this morning led me to Blackpool where I have fallen from a window, covered myself in mud, fought with harpies, and found a husband all in one day.”
Tor laughed softly, kissing the hand on his cheek before lowering it. But he didn’t let it go. “And the day is not over yet,” he said. “Imagine what we will discover by the end of the evening.”
“I am waiting with anticipation.”
His smile faded. “Your mention of harpies has reminded me that I must tell you why Isabella summoned me earlier,” he said. “We had an ill traveler at the gatehouse and I turned him over to Barbara and Lenore to tend. In order to accomplish this, they must be allowed to move about freely, but I have warned them. If they so much as look at you in a manner you do not like, you will tell me. I have threatened them with the vault for the slightest infraction, so they should be on their best behaviors. You will see them moving about Blackpool, so I wanted you to know.”
That wasn’t something Isalyn wanted to hear, but she understood. “Not to worry,” she said. “I can take care of myself, but Isabella… she turned against them and I am certain they did not take kindly to that.”
Tor squeezed her hand. “Bella has her father and brother here,” he said. “They wouldn’t dare make a move against her with those two about. But you are sweet to worry about her.”
“She is a sweet lass,” she said. “I like her very much. I have apologized to her for what my brother did… I cannot imagine him jilting a lady as sweet as Isabella.”
“Truthfully, she does not seem all that torn up about it,” he said. “We all thought she was quite devastated when your brother left her, but she does not seem that way at all.”
They were heading from the chamber and Isalyn tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They had started off as acquaintances, perhaps became fast friends, and now their relationship was progressing naturally, if not quickly. Isalyn had never felt anything more natural or normal than she did when her arm was in his.
As if they had always belonged together.
“Isabella has a good head on her shoulders,” Isalyn said. “She is young, but she has a maturity beyond her years. She told me that she was devastated when Steffan left her but that her grandmother told her that he wasn’t worth weeping over. Any honorable man worth his weight would not have left her at all.”
Tor took her out into the corridor, heading for the open entry door. “That would be my grandmother, Jordan,” he said. “We all call her Matha, meaning ‘mother’ in Gaelic. She is our rock. All of these big, powerful sons and grandsons, and she is our foundation. A stronger, wiser woman you will never meet.”
“Another de Wolfe family member I am looking forward to meeting.”
“I am anxious to introduce you,” he said. “But until that time, I believe your father expects us to celebrate with him. I had better tell my Uncle Blayth personally of our betrothal. He would not forgive me if he heard it from someone else.”
She looked at him, her eyes glimmering. “You are a considerate soul,” she said. “I do believe I like that about you.”
He glanced at her, that sweet little face, that glorious blonde hair. He felt like a giddy squire. “I hope there are other things you like about me,” he said softly.
She looked away, coyly. “I do, too,” she said. “I surely intend to find out.”
She could hear him laughing as they made their way out into the sunshine.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
They were in the room.
Joah had fallen asleep, but he was awoken to the sounds of someone moving around in his chamber. He could hear voices, women speaking softly, and he peeped an eye open to see what was going on.
Two women were moving around in the chamber, both of them with bright red hair and pale skin. One was taller and larger than the other, and she seemed to be the one giving the orders because she would point and whisper and the smaller one would do her bidding.
Joah suspected that these were the two women he had heard when he had first been brought into this chamber. The ones that spoke of Tor de Wolfe and Steffan’s sister. He thought perhaps to open his eyes and show them that he was awake but, on second thought, perhaps it was better if he didn’t. They had been forthcoming with a great deal of information the last time he feigned unconsciousness, so he was curious to know just how much more he could learn if he continued to play a witless lump.
So, he lay there and pretended to be unconscious as they moved around the room. Someone put another blanket on him and someone else begin washing his face and arms with cool water, which felt very nice. They didn’t seem to be as talkative this time around, so Joah decided to show them that he was awake. He wasn’t learning anything this way.
He twitched and one of the women gasped. He twitched again and both of them wondered aloud if he was finally awakening. One of them leaned in and spoke softly to him, asking him if he could hear them.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
“Where… where am I?” he asked weakly.
“You are at Blackpool Castle,” the larger woman said. “What is your name?”
Joah closed his eyes, feigning weakness. “My name is Joah,” he muttered, seeing no issue in giving them his real name. “How long have I been here?”
“You came earlier today,” the woman said. “Do you not remember?”
Joah opened his eyes again. “I think so,” he said. “But it all seems like a… dream. A painful dream. Where is my horse?”
The second woman leaned over him from the other side. “In the stables, I would imagine,” she said. “Do not worry about him, for he is being tended to. It is you that we must tend now. Where are you from, Joah?”
He grunted as if in pain. “South,” he rasped. “I… I am a knight errant in search of my next liege. I thought to come north… de Wolfe has many knights… did I make it to a de Wolfe holding?”
The larger woman nodded. “You did,” she said. “I am Lady Barbara and this is my sister, Lady Lenore. Blackpool Castle is the holding of Sir Tor de Wolfe, son of the Earl of Warenton. Do you think you could take some nourishment, Sir Joah?”
Joah nodded, letting both women hold him up as he sipped at a bowl of beef broth.
He had a few sips before falling back on the bed, as if sitting up just those short few seconds were all he could bear.
He had to keep up the act.
“Thank you, my ladies,” he said, sounding a little more lucid. “You are most gracious.”
“Will you take more nourishment?”
He waved them off, weakly. “Later,” he said. “I find that conversation might help me to regain my strength just as much as your food. Will you simply speak with me? It has been such a long time since I have spoken to anyone and it is rare when I am in such lovely company.”
Barbara smiled faintly, looking over at Lenore, who was smiling quite brightly. Flattery went a long way with Lenore. As Barbara stood up and went to set the bowl of broth down, Lenore took her place next to Joah’s bedside.
“How long have you been without a liege?” she asked.
Joah closed his eyes wearily. “Long enough,” he said. “My former liege was a cruel man, so I left him to seek my fortune.”
Lenore was interested. “Have you been to many exciting places in your travels?”
He looked at her, young and pale and pretty. “A few.”
“Did you have exciting adventures?”
“More than a few,” he said. “But not without purpose.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I have done many things over the years, things that a man of my skill set is capable of,” he said. “I do what I can to earn money. You see, I have a sickly mother I send all of my money to, so anything I earn goes to her.”
Lenore was greatly sympathetic. “How noble of you,” she said sincerely. “You are a very good son to be kind to your mother.”
He sighed. “She is my mother, after all,” he said. “I have been forced to take some… unsavory tasks that pay very well just so that I can send her the money she needs. I was hoping to find steady work with the House of de Wolfe so I am not forced to take small and terrible tasks any longer.”
Lenore looked uncertain. “I do not know if Tor needs any knights, but I will ask,” she said. “I will ask him to come and see you.”
“Would you?” he said, hope in his voice. “I would be very grateful. But if you hear of anyone needing something, a knight to complete a task of any kind, I would be interested to know what it is. I will do anything for money for my dear mother.”
“What kind of task?”
It was Barbara asking the question, standing behind Lenore and wiping out a bowl. Joah turned his attention to the lass with the eyes as dark as sin.
“Anything,” he said. “If there is a dispute, I have been paid to kill the lord causing it. I have been paid for my sword to fight other men’s battles. I have been paid to abduct a bride for men who wanted one. I have been paid for many things.”
Barbara stopped wiping the bowl. “You have been paid to abduct women?”
“Many times.”
“Where do you take them?”
“Wherever I am told to,” he said. “I’ve dumped women off at nunneries, taken them to men who paid me to abduct them, even taken them to brothels to work off a debt. If you pay me enough, I will take a woman wherever you want me to.”
Barbara stared at him for a moment, pausing in wiping the bowl, before slowly resuming. “It must be well-paying work, then,” she said.
“It is,” he said. “As I said, I have done many things, so if you know of anyone who needs my services, I would be grateful if you could pass along the information.”
Barbara didn’t reply. She simply turned back to the table that contained the bowls and cups and medicaments she had brought to tend to the sick man. As Lenore picked up a wet cloth to put on his forehead, Joah lay back and wondered if his words had any impact.
It was difficult to tell.
They had spoken of wanting Steffan’s sister abducted or, at the very least, removed from Blackpool. The reasons behind it didn’t concern him. All that mattered was that they had unknowingly opened the door for him and he had stepped through, planting an idea in their minds.
Time would tell as to whether or not their talk was just idle chatter.
Or, if they were serious.
Built along the banks of the River Eden, the city of Carlisle was a large, bustling burg. Being that it was so close to the border with Scotland, it had its fair share of Scots. The farmers from the borders would bring their produce and livestock to the Carlisle market every Saturday because a buyer was a buyer as far as they were concerned, and they didn’t care if a man was English or Scottish as long as his money was good.
The city had a cosmopolitan flavor to it because it was the largest city this far north, and it also had a large fish market because of its proximity to the Solway Firth. There had been a heavy rain the night before and black clouds were still hanging in the sky to the north but, for the moment, the rain stopped. The inhabitants of the city quickly went about their business before the next round of rain began.
The party from Blackpool Castle had departed at dawn, just as the rain was letting up. Tor brought a contingent of thirty heavily armed men, not including himself and Fraser, and they were armed to the teeth. Tor did not travel outside of the walls of Blackpool without being heavily armed because the Scots were so volatile in this area. Given that they were going into a town that was known to have a heavy Scottish presence, he wasn’t going to take any chances with Isalyn and her father along.
It was a bit of a dichotomy with Gilbert because he was a man who did business in Carlisle on a regular basis, Scots and English alike, and he didn’t see the need for such a heavily armed contingent. He had his own knight in Fraser, and he had a personal fifty-man army that was one of the most well supplied armies in all the north to protect his goods, but that was completely different than riding into town escorted by a de Wolfe contingent with enough weapons to start a small war. As he had commented more than once, he felt like the king and his own personal escort.
Isalyn, on the other hand, was even worse. She hated riding with an escort and Tor knew it, so he kept glancing at her, winking at her now and again. Isalyn was certain that he was waiting for her to ride off and escape the escort, but she had no intention of doing so. Even if she did hate having a bunch of armed men around her.
But she settled down quickly and, in truth, she really didn’t mind. She was flattered that Tor thought enough of her to ensure that she was well taken care of. The previous day had been such a whirlwind and she was still trying to come to grips with a drastic change her life had taken and just a few short hours.
When she had come to Blackpool, it had been with the intention of seeing Tor again and perhaps getting to know him better, but a betrothal had never been on her mind. She could still hardly believe it, but every time Tor turned around to look at her and give her a saucy wink, her excitement in the path that her life had taken was even greater and the moment before.
It all seemed like a dream.
Isalyn had spent the previous evening in the great hall of Blackpool, the center of a celebration with her father leading the toasts. There had been very little conversation between her and Tor because her father seemed intent to monopolize all of the conversation. He was quite drunk early on and, in truth, she didn’t blame him. The man had had a week of excessive upheaval, losing a son and now losing a daughter in marriage.
Gilbert’s emotions were at the extremes and the alcohol helped him vent those emotions, and even embrace them, because it was a week that had seen both grief and joy. Although Isalyn didn’t know her father as well as she probably should have, she knew him well enough to know that he was still reeling from the events of the week and trying to find his footing.
Tor seemed to know that, too. Her betrothed was a man a few words, but he was also a man who seemed quite intuitive. He let Gilbert carry on, cheering the coming wedding and telling stories of Isalyn when she was very young in an attempt to poke fun at her. Considering he and his wife had split when Isalyn had been young, those were the only stori
es of his daughter that he knew. Isalyn relived stories that she didn’t quite remember in some cases, like a little girl who had hoarded a litter of messy kittens in her chamber, or the child who liked to steal pickled onions.
As much as she wanted to stay up all night with Tor and enjoy the celebration, unfortunately, Isalyn grew quite weary early on and was forced to retire when she simply couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Isabella, who was also at the feast, retired with her and the two of them retreated back to the chamber they now shared. Isalyn was so tired that she fell asleep somewhere in the middle of Isabella’s excited chatter about Fraser and how handsome the man was.
Poor Isabella was left talking to herself.
But this morning, she was feeling quite rested, and she had dressed carefully in a sapphire blue gown that reflected the color of her eyes. Her long blonde hair was carefully dressed as it always was, with braids and ribbons, and she knew that she must have done a good job because Tor kept looking at her. By the time they reached the merchant district of Carlisle, he could hardly wait to pull her off her horse.
While a few of the soldiers took the horses to the nearest livery, Gilbert took off down the avenue as he headed for his merchant’s stall. As he had explained to Tor, he had an army of servants who manned his stall because he was not there on a daily basis, so his large merchant business had a majordomo and a clerk who essentially ran the day-to-day operations. They were very good at business and had made Gilbert quite rich.
Gilbert’s stall was the largest one in the merchant district, directly south of Carlisle Castle. The building was a two-storied structure with every manner of goods that one could wish for, and there was a board over the entry that had the word “Featherstone” burned into it. Once they reached the wattle and daub building, Gilbert welcomed Tor into his stall in the grandest fashion.
As the de Wolfe escort took up positions outside, Tor entered the establishment with Isalyn on his arm. Fraser brought up the rear, as his usual position was to shadow Gilbert everywhere he went as the man’s personal protection.
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