She was also saddened by it.
Saddened in that she had never known such tenderness. She found herself wondering what it would be like to be embraced the way Katheryn’s husband was embracing her, or hugged the way that Evelyn hugged her children. Such sweetness to it all, something she’d been denied her entire life. She began to feel a longing in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t begin to describe, a longing to be shown affection and treated tenderly. She hadn’t really known what she was missing until now. And now that she realized how much more there was to life, she felt both confused and deprived.
Soon enough, she couldn’t watch the tender scene any longer. It hurt her heart to witness such care and love, and she had no idea why. Swiftly, she turned for the nearby brook as it disappeared into a copse of trees. Trudging through the long grass with her skirts held up, she disappeared into the trees as well.
Anything to be free of witnessing things she would never know.
It was cool in the trees as the sunlight filtered in overhead, birds singing in the branches. Lost in thought, Brighton wandered deeper into the grove. Alone in the trees, the urge to flee washed over her again but she fought it. She’s already decided against it. She was, therefore, a woman without a home, without a family, and without any place to go.
She was lost.
Feelings of depression swept her. It was difficult not to feel sorry for herself. Her hands brushed the traveling dress she was wearing and she looked down at it, thinking on the English who had given it to her. It was lovely to have people be so kind to her but it couldn’t go on like that forever. At some point, she would have to settle somewhere and find a life of her own, which wouldn’t include Katheryn and Evelyn and their charming children. It wouldn’t even include Patrick, the big knight who made her heart flutter strangely. She didn’t like feeling that her future was nothing but fog, unable to see through it yet knowing something was there just the same.
It was the unknown she feared.
“Lady Brighton?”
A soft, deep voice startled her and she turned to see Patrick coming through the foliage. She took a step back, away from him, intimidated by the sight of him. Even after their calm conversation last night, she still wasn’t completely comfortable in his presence.
“I-I… I just needed a moment of privacy, my lord,” she said, her stammer strong because she had been startled. “I should have told you, I suppose. I am sorry.”
Patrick shook his head. “You need not apologize,” he said. “If anyone should apologize, it should be me for invading your quiet moment. I came to make sure you were well. My sisters were concerned.”
Brighton smiled faintly. “I-I am well,” she said. “They worry over me as if I am one of their children.”
Patrick gave her a lopsided grin, the dimples running deep. “They are very motherly,” he agreed. “You’ll not escape that, no matter if you are a grown woman. They will still be concerned for you.”
He said it somewhat humorously and she dared to smile in return. “I-it is very kind of them,” she said. “I do not mind. They were quite motherly this morning as they helped me to dress.”
She looked down at herself which made Patrick look down at her as well. He’d spent the entire morning thinking of her even though he couldn’t see her, tucked back in the carriage with his sisters as she had been. But the vision of her before she’d entered the carriage back at Berwick stuck with him.
Dressed in a deep blue wool that clung indecently to her figure, he’d been struck by her womanly curves just as the other knights had been. Alec and Hector, the married men, pretended not to notice but the unmarried men, Kevin and Apollo, noticed without trying to seem as if they weren’t. That had infuriated Patrick, who had sent the young knights to ride point at the head of the column, far up ahead of the lady they’d briefly lusted after.
Not that he’d blamed them for their reaction, but he wanted their minds on their duties and not on the lovely young woman in the carriage. At least, that’s what Patrick told himself. The truth was that he wanted to be the only one thinking about her. The curvy figure encased in dark blue and her beautiful brown hair plaited in an elaborate braid was something for his eyes alone.
He was sworn to protect her, after all. In some odd way, that meant she belonged to him.
… didn’t she?
But she had been saying something to him just now, hadn’t she? Something about his sisters smothering her…? He realized that he hadn’t really heard her and, again, not wanting to embarrass himself by asking her to repeat what she’d said, he pulled on the few words he’d managed to hear in order to concoct an answer. But he was coming to think that the woman could suck every thought from his head without even trying, for she’d done it before with him.
He looked at her and his mind seemed to go to mush.
“My sisters try their best to be helpful,” he said belatedly. “They have been my chatelaines at Berwick for a few years and I find them indispensable.”
Brighton couldn’t help but noticed he seemed detached. It had taken him forever to answer her even though he was looking right at her. She was coming to think that he didn’t have much interest in what she had to say, which embarrassed her greatly. Clearing her throat softly, she put her head down and gathered her skirts, preparing to move past him.
“A-again, my apologies for wandering away,” she said. “I will return with you now if that is your wish.”
He reached out, a massive hand grasping her arm before she could walk away. “That is not why I came,” he said. Then, he lifted his other hand, which she hadn’t really noticed because it had been partially concealed behind his back. He had a bundle in it, a kerchief that was wrapped around some items. “My sisters said you’d not eaten so I brought you some food. Would you sit and eat now? We only have a few minutes before we must continue on our way.”
The food bundle in his hand enticed her, for she was hungry. She nodded her head, watching him as he moved to a big rock next to the creek. He set the bundle down and untied it, revealing a good deal of food within. He smiled weakly.
“If you please, my lady?” he said, pointing to the feast.
Hesitantly, Brighton made her way to the rock and sank to her knees beside it. Beneath the cool shade of the trees, she timidly picked up a piece of hard white cheese, biting into it. It was very good. Quite famished, she collected a piece of bread as well. Mouth full, she looked up at Patrick.
“I-I will gladly share if you’ve not eaten, my lord,” she said.
Patrick had been waiting for the invitation because he’d brought enough food for two people. It had been rather clever of him, he thought. Casually, he planted his big body on the edge of the rock, taking a piece of cold beef and popping it into his mouth. All the while, he kept eyeing Brighton as she ate ravenously.
“How has your journey been so far?” he asked, simply to make conversation.
She nodded her head, swallowing the bite in her mouth. “P-pleasant,” she said. “I held the baby for some of the journey. She is very sweet.”
“Adele?” he said. “Aye, she is. She is adorable and looks just like her father, much to my own father’s displeasure. He had hoped she would look like a de Wolfe.”
Brighton put more cheese in her mouth. “I-I am coming to understand that everyone in your command is related,” she said. “It has not been explained to me, but I see there are relations around you, at least with your sisters. Do you have more?”
He nodded. “I have a rather large family,” he said. “In addition to Katheryn and Evelyn, who are with me at Berwick, I have five brothers and another little sister who are not. You see, it all started many years ago when my father married my mother. I have already told you she is from Clan Scott. My mother came with two cousins who married two of my father’s knights. Aunt Jemma married Uncle Kieran and Aunt Caladora married Uncle Paris. When those three couples had children, they all ended up marrying each other, so Katheryn and Evelyn are mar
ried to a son of Jemma and Kieran, and Paris and Caladora, respectively. Our three families are deeply intertwined.”
Brighton was listening with interest. “I-I see,” she said. “Do you have a wife I’ve not met, then?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he replied, giving her a rather embarrassed grin. “Oh, it was not for lack of trying on Uncle Paris and Uncle Kieran’s part. They had a daughter or two they tried to saddle me with… I mean, marry me to… but I felt strongly that there was much I want to accomplish in life and it would be difficult for a wife to have a husband with great ambitions. I could not condemn her to such a life.”
Brighton chewed on a small green apple. “D-do you mean this appointment for Henry, the one you spoke of last night?”
“Aye.”
“W-what will your duties be for the king?”
Patrick swallowed the food in his mouth, reaching for a piece of cheese. “To simplify the explanation, the king is an elderly man and he has not been well,” he said. “The king has several men who are his personal guard, called the Lord Protectors, and I have been given the honor of being the captain of that group. I am to leave for London in a fortnight to assume my post by September.”
Brighton was vastly impressed. But she realized that she was also somewhat disappointed. She wasn’t sure why, but she was. Perhaps it had something to do with him leaving in a couple of weeks and her never seeing him again. Other than the priests, Patrick was the only man she had truly had any contact with outside of the walls of Coldingham. Hated English or not, they had established a strange bond. Right now, they were having a lovely conversation, something she’d never done before, at least not like this.
Never before with a man who made her heart flutter strangely….
“Y-your family must be very proud,” she finally said. “I am sure you will be very successful.”
He shrugged. “A position like this is very powerful and highly coveted,” he said. Then, he lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”
She nodded, curious, indeed. “I-I can.”
“Not even if a thousand reivers sudden charge these trees and try to beat it out of you?”
She grinned at his jest. “N-not even then, I promise.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow to emphasize how serious this was. “Only my father knows this, my lady,” he said. “If my mother found out you knew before she did, she would beat the both of us.”
Brighton held up a hand as if to take her oath. “I-I swear it will never leave my lips, ever.”
He nodded firmly. “I believe you,” he said. “Then I shall tell you. Along with my appointment to the Lord Protectors, I have been bequeathed lands and title to go with it. Once I assume my post, Penton Castle will become mine as well as the title Lord Westdale. Henry offered me larger properties to the south, but my heart and my family are here in the north. Penton Castle guards a major road from Scotland that leads into Carlisle. It is a very big place, built upon the ruins of a Roman fort, and it has seen more than its share of action from the Scots.”
Brighton was duly impressed. “W-who is there now? I mean, whose army?”
“Henry’s.”
It all seemed quite prestigious to her. “T-then I will congratulate you,” she said sincerely. “You are to become quite important.”
He shrugged, a cross between a modest and an arrogant gesture. “Lands and title will thrust me into the heart of London’s politics, but I am confident I shall execute my duties flawlessly,” he said. “Truthfully, I have no idea when I will actually see my property, as I will probably be in London for a very long time. Edward, the king’s son, has given me as much freedom as I need to protect the king and control who has access to him. I think it will be a very interesting position, at any rate. Not many men will go against the word of the Nighthawk.”
Brighton cocked her head curiously. “N-Nighthawk?”
He nodded, swallowing his cheese and then picking up a small apple. “My father is known as the Wolfe of the Border,” he said, taking up most of the apple in one bite. “He is also Warden of the Northern Borders. Have you never heard of him? Well, you will if you spend any time in the north. Because they call him The Wolfe, I have earned the name of Nighthawk for my prowess in battle. I am the only one of my brothers to have earned such a moniker.”
Brighton rather liked that name. “N-Nighthawk,” she repeated. “They are great hunters.”
“As am I.”
She grinned at his boastful statement. “I-I would believe that,” she said. “You had no difficultly hunting down the reivers last night.”
He tossed the apple core aside. “That was nothing,” he said. “They left an easy trail to follow.”
Her smile faded as thoughts of Sister Acha returned and the terrible cost of the skirmish the night before. Averting her gaze from Patrick, she reached for another apple. “I-I suppose that you could easily track me as well even if I tried to flee for home, then.”
He regarded her a moment. “I could. Do you intend to run? I thought we had settled that last night.”
She put the apple in her hand down, brushing her hands off on her skirt. “I-I will be honest with you, my lord,” she said. “I still had thoughts of running for home this morning, even after our conversation last night. Coldingham is all I know, you see, and for me to simply forget about it so easily… I cannot do that. When I wandered into these trees just now, I even thought it would be very easy to slip away but I remembered what you said last night about my being selfish. If I run to Coldingham, and if men are truly after me, then trouble will follow. I do not wish to bring trouble to my home.”
He watched her as she stood up gracefully. “That is wise.”
She sighed, gazing out over the creek, having no idea he was watching her profile as she did. “B-but if you take me to your father, will I not be bringing trouble to him, too?”
Patrick was not only watching her profile, he was watching the curve of her lips again when she spoke. It was mesmerizing. “You will,” he said, “but my father is a great knight. He can handle all of the trouble that the Swinton Clan wants to throw at him. Do not worry about him.”
She turned to him, her sweet face in earnest. “B-but I do,” she said. “If I will bring as much trouble as you say, then there is nowhere I can go that will not bring trouble. I do not wish to cause trouble for those who have been kind to me.”
He was starting not to hear her words again, daydreaming about that angelic face. But he forced himself to listen. He stood up, towering over her.
“I would not worry about that if I were you,” he said. “You are my ward now and as long as you are, no harm will come to you. Do you not believe me?”
She nodded, her heart beginning to pound against her ribs as his powerful form loomed before her. “I-I do,” she said. Then, she paused. “I am calmer now, my lord. Will you please tell me again what Sister Acha told you about my… my lineage? I promise I will not become hysterical. I honestly do not remember everything you told me, only that my real father is a Northman king. I would be grateful if you would tell me, once more, so that I remember all of it.”
Patrick knew they should be heading back to the others now that their meal was over but he couldn’t quite seem to do it. He was rather enjoying talking to her, just the two of them. He didn’t want to disrupt that, at least not until he had to.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
“P-please.”
He sighed faintly. “She told me that your mother is Lady Juliana de la Haye and your father is Magnus Haakonsson, King of the Northmen. Your real name is Kristiana Magnusdotter. But you were given the name of Brighton de Favereux to conceal your identity. Shall I tell you more?”
Brighton nodded shortly, as if she didn’t want to hear it all but knew she had to, and he continued. “Your mother is a daughter of the House of de la Haye and she was given over to the Northmen as a hostage, to cement a peace between the kings of the North and Clan Haye. When she became
pregnant, she was sent home in shame. When you were born, your mother was forced to bring you to Coldingham in order to protect you.” He paused, looking her in the eye. “Sister Acha said that no one must know of your existence for it can only bring the Northmen down upon us. Those were her words, exactly.”
Brighton’s features were lined with distress but she was trying very hard to show courage. “Juliana de la Haye,” she murmured. “W-where does the Clan Haye live?”
“Further to the north, I believe,” he said. “Like most Scots along the coast, I am sure they have had their share of encounters with Northmen. Making an alliance with a hostage makes perfect sense.”
Brighton didn’t really know much about alliances. Truthfully, she didn’t know much about anything right now. Her senses, her mind, were very muddled. She was trying to process the information when a shout came from outside of the trees and Patrick shouted in return, a confirmation that they were soon to return to the group. He turned to Brighton.
“We should be departing shortly,” he said, somewhat gently. “Did you have enough to eat? You can take the rest of the food with you in the carriage if you wish.”
She nodded absently, still lost in thought, and he moved to collect the food. She put her hand on his arm before he could move out of her reach. Patrick came to a pause, looking down at that distressed, heavenly face as she turned her attention upward to him.
“D-do you think… do you think your father could write to Mother Prioress and ask her if she knows anything about my true lineage?” she asked hesitantly. “If I could only have her confirmation, mayhap I could find peace with all of this. As I told you last night, I cannot believe that she would not know the truth. If it is too much trouble for your father, I would be happy to write the missive if he would only be kind enough to supply a messenger.”
Patrick could feel her hand on his arm like a searing brand. Such a small hand, a delicate touch, but it was burning a hole through him.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 142