The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  The warm, warm comfort of a mother to child.

  The warmth of an embrace….

  “Come along, now,” he moved towards them, waving his massive arms like a shepherd moving sheep. “Sit down on the bench, all of you. Sit down before you fall down.”

  The woman allowed him to place her and her children upon the bench. Scott stood over them, hands on his hips, thinking they were, perhaps, the most perfectly beautiful, little family he had seen. God, the longing, the memories, tugged at him as they hadn’t in years. Everything he’d been running from was suddenly tugging on him as he struggled against it. But the need to know the woman’s identity reached a maddening level.

  “Now,” he began, crouching down before them as they hugged and kissed. “Your children were kind enough to tell me their names. Would you please indulge me as well, Madam?”

  The woman looked at him, her lips on Stephen’s soft hair. The magnificent eyes spoke softly to him, words he could not understand but most assuredly feelings he could comprehend. There was confusion in the depths but there was also great pain; that was something he most definitely recognized because it was something he experienced on almost a daily basis. At least, he had for years. These days, it was more a dull ache than anything else but something he was wise to avoid at all costs. He was concentrating so on the emotions from her eyes that he barely heard her voice.

  “Avrielle,” she whispered. “My name is Avrielle.”

  He blinked, almost startled by her gentle voice. Avrielle. It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard and suited her perfectly. “Lady Avrielle,” he repeated in a soft voice that did not suit his harsh appearance. “Who has ordered you to work this garden?”

  She shook her head. “No one,” she murmured.

  “Then why do you work so hard in your condition? And where is your husband that he would not prevent you from doing this?”

  The gentleness in her eyes, so recently returned, suddenly vanished. She stood up, leaving her two children wide-eyed and disappointed, and meandered back into the weeds. Scott watched her closely, wondering what he could have said to upset her so. When the woman realized she had no hoe to work with, she sat down on the ground and began raking it with her hands in great sweeping, harsh motions.

  “Lady Avrielle.” Scott was genuinely concerned; any other woman, or man for that matter, would not have elicited this kind of concern from him. He had no idea why she should, and the conflict of emotions in his chest disturbed him. “Get up from the dirt. You should not be straining yourself.”

  Avrielle continued to claw at the earth, shaking her head, and tears began to fall. Big, heaving sobs followed. The children, upset that their mother was crying again, ran to her in tears and fell down beside her, weeping. It was a horrible, distressing scene and Scott was at a loss as to what to do. For a man who bottled up all of his emotions, it was terribly unpleasant for him. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was sobbing pitifully, her children were crying, and Scott knew, instinctively, that he was somehow responsible. It was that question he had asked, the one that had changed everything…

  Where is your husband?

  Before he realized it, he was beside the trio, his massive arms encircling them. He didn’t know what else to do and instinct took over at that point. They needed comfort and, for some reason, he was determined to give it in an urge he could not resist. Why, he didn’t know – only that the impulse was too strong for words. Somehow, someway, that compassionate man he’d tried so hard to bury was having a resurrection of sorts. His arms went around them and he held Avrielle tightly in one arm, feeling her head against him, her tear-stained face against his neck, and he swore that never in his life had he felt anything so sweet and right.

  God, he’d missed the feel of a woman.

  It was an electrifying, addicting sensation. He thought he should say something to her, anything at all, but he couldn’t manage to bring words to his lips. It seemed better that he simply sat on the earth, in all of his armor and mail and weaponry, holding a weeping, pregnant woman and her sobbing children, and having no idea why he was permitting himself to do it. It wasn’t healthy for him. He should not have allowed it.

  But it was the best thing he had ever done.

  For a brief, stolen moment, he was no longer the hardest man in England. The stone encasing his heart had cracked, just the slightest.

  As Scott sat on the ground and wallowed in a river of turbulent confusion, du Rennic knights, George and Kristoph, stood at the gate, watching the scene in the darkness beyond. Having been watching de Wolfe from the battlements, they’d followed him when he’d disappeared into the walled garden. Now, they could only stare in disbelief at what they were seeing.

  “Christ Almighty,” George whispered from the garden gate. “Do you see what I see?”

  Kristoph shook his head. “What in the hell is going on?” he said. “He… he’s touching her. And the children, too.”

  George was so astonished he could barely speak. “Lady Avrielle hasn’t let anyone come near her in months,” he hissed. “And now she lets de Wolfe, of all people, comfort her? I cannot believe my eyes!”

  Kristoph could only stand there and shake his head. “We must tell Jeremy immediately.”

  George heartily agreed. “He will take de Wolfe’s head off for this.” There was something gleeful in that statement.

  Kristoph didn’t know what to say in return. All he knew was that Baron Bretherdale would be lucky if that was all Jeremy did when he found out the man had touched his sister.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Huntley’s in an uproar.” Stewart was grim. “He’s charging all over the castle demanding your hide. What in the hell has happened?”

  It was time for the evening meal. Scott and his men stood in the bailey of Castle Canaan, spread out in a semi-circle around an enormous bonfire. Across the flame lay a sheep that they’d brought with them, roasting on a spit, and the men ate heartily of the fresh mutton.

  All but Scott, that is; he found he had no appetite at all. Ever since Avrielle had cried on his shoulder and then just as abruptly, and just as silently, left him alone in the dead garden, he had been unable to think of anything else. For a man who kept himself so guarded, he had been rattled by the entire event. Therefore, Stewart’s question not only confused him, it irritated him.

  “I have no idea what you speak of,” Scott growled. “I’ve done nothing to Huntley. The last I saw him was this afternoon, with you.”

  Stewart shook his head. “You must have done or said something, else he would not be on a rampage. In fact, all of the Canaan knights are furious. George de Vahn caught Raymond in a stairwell just before sup and kicked him down to the bottom. It’s madness, I tell you.”

  Scott passed a glance at Raymond, chewing on a large rib bone and well enough but for a large bruise on his temple. His jaw flexed slightly before it stilled.

  “And you do not know the reason behind the resurgence of this anger?” he asked.

  Stewart shook his head. “I do not. Only that you are somehow responsible, though I cannot imagine how.”

  Scott was angry that he couldn’t shake the vision of the lovely, pregnant woman. But he was angrier still that the knights of Canaan were acting the foolish bunch. He found that his thoughts were scattered, difficult to focus, and his patience was waning. He flicked a massive hand at Stewart.

  “Find Huntley,” he demanded. “Discover the reason for his fury. Tell him I have no patience for this lunacy. My grace with the Castle Canaan knights is at an end. Any more hysterics and I’ll crush him and his foolish cohorts without further thought. Make sure he understands this, Stu, so there is no room for doubt.”

  Stewart nodded in acknowledgement. But something made him pause, staring curiously at Scott. The man simply wasn’t himself this evening; that much was obvious. He seemed far too willing to let his emotions show through, irritation and anger in this case. It wasn’t something that any of the other men woul
d sense. But Stewart, because he knew Scott so well, noticed a difference.

  “Are you all right, my lord?” he asked quietly so no one would hear him.

  “Fine,” Scott answered shortly.

  “Forgive me, but you seem preoccupied.”

  “I am not.”

  Stewart wouldn’t press him. Scott did not respond to pressure well. He turned away just as a jagged bolt of lightning carved through the night sky and the first few drops of rain pelted them. The thunder rolled and Stewart glanced up, unconcerned, as he proceeded across the bailey. Suddenly, a shout rang down from the battlements and the most dreaded word of all could be heard throughout the fortress.

  “Raiders!”

  Stewart and Scott immediately began to shout orders to the men-at-arms in the bailey. The other knights took off at a dead run for the stables where the warhorses were tethered. After a few moments, the door to the hall of Castle Canaan flew open and the knights poured forth, save Jeremy and Gordon. From relative peace to instant chaos, the massive bailey of Castle Canaan was on the move as the troops prepared to mobilize. Scott, meanwhile, had clamored up the spiral, iron stairs leading to the ramparts to gain a better look.

  One of his own soldiers greeted him, gesturing to the northwest. “In the trees, my lord,” he said. “When the lightning struck, we were able to see them. Several men and I thought we saw glimpses of mail or armor.”

  “How many?”

  “Difficult to tell, my lord. Quite a few, I should say. Dozens at least.”

  “Did you see colors?”

  “Nay, my lord.”

  Scott strained his eyes. The lightning flashed again and he was able to see what had alerted the sentries; an entire row of warriors against the trees on the southern perimeter of Canaan. But the vision was just as quickly gone when the countryside went dark again.

  “Christ,” he muttered, turning back for the stairs and knowing they had a serious situation on their hands. “Keep an eye out. If you see colors, I would know immediately.”

  “Aye, my lord!”

  He didn’t bother taking the bottom ten or so steps. Scott was so long-legged that he simply jumped the last several feet and landed quite gracefully in the spreading mud. Marching through the increasing rain, he ignored the cool pelts to his face as he made his way to the stables.

  Around him, men ran for their weapons and servants ran for cover. When he finally reached the thatched shelters that housed the horses, his squire, a tall youth with a long face, greeted him with his muzzled warhorse. Scott held the reins as the squire and two grooms finished saddling the beast. Even as Scott mounted the steed, his squire was handing him his sword, securing his flail, and lodging his crossbow within arm’s length. The youth was highly efficient, a necessary quality within Scott’s corps, and Scott ripped off the muzzle and flung it aside as he plowed forward into the embroiled bailey.

  Stewart and Milo were there to greet him. The other knights were already mounted and moving de Wolfe’s army towards the great double portcullises of Castle Canaan.

  “There’s going to be trouble,” Scott said to Stewart. “Looks like an entire army approaching from the south.”

  Stewart shook his head. “But how can that be? Our scouts reported nothing.”

  Scott choked up on his reins as his horse threw its great head about. “I do not know. An army that size doesn’t simply appear out of nowhere.”

  Stewart thought a moment. “Kendal Castle is to the south,” he said. “Gillemichael is in charge. You recognize the name, do you not?”

  Scott nodded. “Of course,” he said, “but the man keeps to himself. All of these Cumbrian lords do, ruling these lands like their own little kingdom. That is why Henry gifted me with Bretherdale, to watch these odd feudal lords. They’ve never shown much aptitude for siding with the king but, then again, they’ve never shown much aptitude for rebelling. Is it possible that they are now showing their loyalties by converging on Canaan, clearly in Edward’s hand now that his father is dead?”

  “The only reason this is possible is that the army has arrived most conveniently.”

  Scott’s brow furrowed as he looked at Stewart. “You are suggesting that Gillemichael had advance knowledge of our arrival? That perhaps he has been waiting for us?”

  Before Scott could reply, Jeremy was suddenly in the midst of the snorting, gnashing chargers. “What in the hell are you doing?” he demanded. When he saw that the portcullises were opening, he shouted to his men. “Close the damned grates!”

  Scott was cool. “I will give the orders, Huntley. We ride to eradicate the army on your northern perimeter.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Unnecessary, my lord, I assure you. They’ll be attacking our moat soon enough and you can have your fill of them then. Lower that drawbridge and you leave us vulnerable to penetration.”

  Scott fought down his irritation. He was not accustomed to having his orders questioned, especially not by a mere knight. “It is my decision that the army will take the field for a quick, decisive victory. I’ve no desire to be embattled for days on end.”

  “Prisoners, Huntley,” Milo Auclair growled at Jeremy as if the man were a moron. “De Wolfe wants prisoners, leverage against the Cumbrian barons.”

  Jeremy was not a happy man. He, too, was unaccustomed to sharing decision-making powers with anyone on his home turf. Even Nathaniel had been pliable to any suggestions he made. Scott, however, was not.

  “How do you know these are the barons’ armies?” Jeremy rumbled. “I know them better than anyone and they keep to themselves. They have never attacked Canaan.”

  Scott eyed him. “That may change since they heard of Nathaniel’s death. That is exactly what Edward is fearful of and exactly why I am here.”

  Jeremy wouldn’t be outplayed in his own castle. “There are plenty of bandits in this area,” he said. “The forests to the east are full of them. It could be just a gang of rabble-rousers. Have you seen any standards or men in armor?”

  Scott was at the end of his rope with Jeremy. “Men in armor have been sighted. If you care to debate the logic of my defense, then do it by yourself for I will no longer listen.” He turned to his men, shouting in a booming voice that echoed off the great, stone walls. “To the field! God and King Edward sustain us!”

  It was a rally cry and de Wolfe’s men shouted in reply. Scott dug his spurs into the side of his Belgian charger and the animal leapt forward, spraying Jeremy with sheets of mud. Furious, Jeremy held his own men back from the melee as Baron Bretherdale and his entire army poured from the open gates of Castle Canaan like water pouring from a spout. Jeremy made his way to the top of the steps leading into the hall, waiting until every last one of de Wolfe’s men left the compound but for the archers he had left behind on the walls. Once the bailey was clear, he turned to the knights at his side.

  “Damnable bastard!” He was trembling with fury as he spoke. “He’ll get us all killed.”

  The other knights gazed at him with concern and frustration. “What now, Jeremy?” George asked. “What do we do?”

  Jeremy was silent a moment. Then, an odd gleam came to his eye, growing strong enough to strike fear into their hearts. “Take de Wolfe’s archers off the walls and throw them in the vault,” he growled. “Lower the portcullises and raise the bridge. If de Wolfe wants to occupy Castle Canaan, it will be over my dead body. The man is no longer welcome here. Let the army outside chew him to bits, for I won’t help him one bit.”

  Gordon listened to his son’s words, closing his eyes with great sorrow and regret. “Jeremy, listen to yourself. Do you realize what you are saying, lad?”

  Jeremy was beyond furious. Kristoph, George, and Adam were more than eager to do his bidding and raced off through the mud and rain to mount the stairs to the battlements. Only after the knights were gone did Jeremy turn to his father.

  “I know exactly what I am doing,” he said. “De Wolfe is unconcerned with the welfare and safety of Canaan. I must prot
ect her; that much is clear. I must do what is best for us all.”

  Gordon was nearly beside himself. “But how can you say that? You’ve signed our death warrants, Jeremy. De Wolfe will return and when he does, he’ll crush us into the ground.”

  “How can you argue with me?” Jeremy said passionately. “You just saw the man order our gates opened in a midst of an attack. What sort of intelligence suggests a tactic like that? Moreover, Kristoph and George saw him in the garden molesting Avrielle and the children. Do you truly want this man here? He’s brought nothing but sorrow and evil to Canaan.”

  Gordon, sickened with his son’s logic, shook his head. “You are making excuses, Jeremy.”

  “They are not excuses but fact.”

  “You blame him for Nathaniel’s death. You never wanted him here to begin with.”

  “Nay, I did not. I should have never let him in. I should have raised the drawbridge and dared him to fight me.”

  Gordon could see that Jeremy was almost beyond reason “But you did right by permitting him entrance,” he said calmly. “And as far as him molesting Avrielle or the children, I simply cannot believe that.”

  Jeremy was out of control. In his fury, he moved close to his father and very nearly shoved the old man aside. “You defend him too easily.”

  “I speak the truth.”

  Jeremy had no reply. It was obvious that his father did not support him. His flaming blue eyes cooled, smoldering into something venomous. “You speak the ramblings of a coward,” he growled. “It is obvious that you would easily relinquish everything Nathaniel has fought for, including his wife.”