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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I give you back your son,” he said, rather sarcastically. “Know I did not kill him purely out of respect to you, Gordon. But any more disrespect from your son and I will not hold to that vow. I do not wish to see him again, so take him out of here and keep him from my sight. Do you understand me?”

  Gordon nodded, sickened by the turn of events. “I do, my lord,” he said. Then, he sighed. “Thank you for not killing him. But I will say… this was long in coming. I am surprised you held your temper as long as you did.”

  “So am I.”

  “Your generosity is noted.”

  Scott’s gaze lingered on Gordon as the man bent over to haul his limp son away before turning around and seeing that the du Rennic knights had essentially been beaten nearly as badly as Jeremy had. In truth, Scott’s knights weren’t looking any too pristine, either. But they were the victors and there was some satisfaction in that.

  From the beginning of their arrival at Canaan, the tension between the de Wolfe knights and the du Rennic knights had been a palpable thing. So, perhaps what Gordon said was true on everyone’s behalf – perhaps this fight had been a long time coming for all of them. Perhaps now the du Rennic knights would understand that their behavior would not be tolerated. What forced labor could not accomplish, perhaps a sound beating would. Scott pointed to the injured du Rennic knights.

  “Get them out of here and confine them to the barracks,” he said. “I do not want to see any of them for quite some time.”

  Stanley and Raymond nodded, moving forward even as they wiped blood from their noses and mouths. Raymond took hold of George while Stanley picked Adam up under the arms and dragged him away. Kristoph, who didn’t like physical fights and had done everything but try to crawl from a lancet window to avoid the battle, was crammed into a corner with a lump on his head and Milo went to him, grabbing the man by the arm and pulling him from the solar. Stewart went to stand with Scott as the de Wolfe knights dragged their opponents from the chamber.

  “Well,” Stewart said, wiping at a cut on the corner of his mouth. “I cannot say that any of that surprised me.”

  Scott was still tense from the fight, struggling to calm himself. He was still furious with Jeremy for the man’s cruel words, but as he thought about it, it wasn’t so much that he had been hurt by the words. His grief over Athena had long since dulled to an ache over the years, a warm and distant memory that had become part of his soul. It was more that Jeremy was deliberately trying to hurt him with his words, and Scott wouldn’t take that kind of slander from any man.

  Even if it was true.

  “I do not want to see any of them but Gordon for the duration of my stay here,” he said. “Huntley in particular. In fact, when he is recovered, I want him banished from Canaan. I do not care where he goes, but I want him out. If he stays, he will only cause problems to me or to the next man who takes command of Canaan. He has proven that he cannot amend his ways.”

  Stewart nodded, finding a great satisfaction in throwing Jeremy Huntley bodily from Canaan. “It will be done, my lord. Anything else?”

  Scott shook his head. Now that the fight was over, he should have felt some fiendish satisfaction in it but he found that he did not. He was angry that the du Rennic knights had behaved so poorly and that they had driven him to such an action. The whole situation disgusted him.

  “Make sure the posts are set for the night,” he said. “I am going to bed.”

  “But the evening meal is upon us.”

  “I have no appetite.”

  Stewart simply nodded, watching Scott as he quit the chamber, heading out into the darkness beyond. He found himself looking at the destroyed solar, thinking that Jeremy was fortunate that Scott hadn’t killed him in his rage. No descent man would have said to Scott what Jeremy had. So, in a sense, he escaped relatively unscathed for what could have happened to him. Any man who would make light of another’s grief was a sorry man, indeed.

  As the smells of the evening meal wafted upon the dusky sky, Stewart went about righting Nathaniel’s once-lovely solar.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Out in the smoky twilight, Scott’s departure from the destroyed solar found him taking the steep, spiral stairs up to the second floor of Castle Canaan.

  He was still filled with the rush of battle, laboring to calm himself, but he found that he couldn’t. He’d been pushed beyond his endurance this night and had finally lashed out at the du Rennic knights who seemed willing to show such disrespect to him because he’d let them. He’d tried to be understanding; he’d tried to show patience. He told himself that they were only grieving over Nathaniel’s death. Perhaps that was true but, on this night, that grief had tipped the tides of favor against them. Scott was coming to think that they must have perceived him as being weak when he’d been showing patience.

  He wouldn’t make that same mistake again… and neither would they.

  There was a satisfaction now in his mood, satisfied that the du Rennic knights would settle down now that they knew de Wolfe would strike. Black Adder. That’s what Lady du Rennic had called him and he’d certain lived up to that name. As the only one of his father’s sons who lived in the shadows, removed from the rest and lost to his own world, he was also the one most likely to destroy in a flash.

  Jeremy Huntley had discovered that particular trait about him.

  As he entered the second level, he looked around to see that everything was dark and quiet. This level contained several chambers, including a chapel, several guard chambers, and five rooms that the du Rennic family used. Shortly after his arrival at Canaan, Scott had taken one of the family chambers, a larger chamber that was nearest to the guard rooms and the portcullis room over the gatehouse entry. The chamber had evidently belonged to Lord and Lady du Rennic, as their private retiring room, but Scott showed no regard to that. He’d confiscated it because it had a massive bed and being a big man, he wanted a big and comfortable bed. While his knights slept in the guard rooms nearby, Scott found sanctuary in the large du Rennic chamber.

  Making his way to the chamber, he passed through a series of rooms where his men were on watch, including the portcullis chamber which had a direct view of the drawbridge and gatehouse passageway below. He paused a moment, checking the gatehouse for himself and exchanging a few words with his men that were stationed there. It wasn’t normal for him to address his men directly but, in this case, without Stewart around, he had little choice. He had questions about efficiency and his men were more than willing to answer. Satisfied, he continued on to the family block of rooms down a narrow corridor and opened the first door he came to.

  By the time he entered the chamber, he realized that he wasn’t quite so angry any longer. At least his temples weren’t throbbing like they had been. Still, it occurred to him that both Lady du Rennic and her ridiculous brother seemed intent on either asking him about his dead wife or otherwise presenting the subject. Both of them knew of Athena’s passing and both of them had brought it into the conversations he’d had with them.

  It was a cruel thing to do.

  In truth, Scott wasn’t particularly surprised they knew because that terrible day four years ago wasn’t a secret; the news had spread and when Scott had assumed the Bretherdale barony, he’d had a conversation with Nathaniel about it. He’d had too much to drink the night he’d come to Canaan to see the property for the first time and Nathaniel, being easy to speak to, ended up hearing the parts of the story that Scott was at least willing to speak of under drink. Scott had no idea where Nathaniel had heard the rest of it. But surely, men gossiped in military circles. They were worse than women at times. Someone had clearly told Nathaniel the entire story and, in turn, Nathaniel had spoken of it to his family.

  So now, they knew.

  But what they didn’t know was that it was a forbidden subject and Scott would have to make it clear to Lady du Rennic that any talk of the events from his past was unwelcome. Still, it seemed the woman was being as ridiculous as her br
other when it came to accepting Edward’s directive and the fate of Canaan. But, at the moment, Scott didn’t want to think about them any longer. This journey to Canaan had become far more of a frustrating task than he had expected.

  Perhaps he would send word to Edward to dispatch Lady du Rennic’s future husband to Canaan immediately so he could return to his home of Ravenstone. Although he told Lady du Rennic that he would delay his response to Edward regarding her fate, quite honestly, he didn’t see the need now. Why should he protect a lady who clearly was ungrateful for it?

  He found that he very much wanted to go home.

  Summoning one of the soldiers he’d passed in the guard chambers, Scott sent the man for food and wine. He wanted to eat in his room, in peace and quiet, and retire for the night because he found that he was quite exhausted. More than that, he simply needed time to himself. He was solitary that way. He could only pray tomorrow was a better day with the occupants of Canaan because he knew, feeling as he did, that he would have no patience for anymore foolishness.

  His next strike, he knew, would be deadly.

  There was plenty of peat and kindling by the hearth so he started a fire, bringing light and warmth into the room as the sun set and a blanket of stars filled the sky. He also lit one of the tapers near the end of the bed, gazing from the nearby lancet window as the last strains of day became night. The landscape in the vale was truly beautiful, with green, rolling hills and the white sprinkling of sheep to the east, part of Canaan’s vast estate. Everything was damp and lush, and he could smell that dampness upon the night air. Turning away from the window, he went to remove his belt when he noticed that his bed was moving.

  Scott was standing right next to it, watching something, or someone, undulate under the covers, and he immediately went into battle mode. After what just happened in the solar, he wasn’t taking any chances. The dagger at his side came out and he lifted it, preparing to stab it into the bed linens. But it quickly occurred to him that this was either the most incompetent assassin in the world or it wasn’t an assassin at all; surely someone out to kill him would have struck the moment he entered the chamber. Now, more curious than startled, he peered closer at the bed only to see a small foot suddenly pop out from beneath the coverlet. With a sigh, he sheathed his blade and yanked the coverlet away.

  A small, blonde head appeared, blue eyes blinking up at him sleepily. Then came a big yawn as Stephen rubbed his eyes.

  “I was waiting for you!” he announced.

  Scott rested his fists on his hips. “Waiting for me?” he repeated. “Why? Don’t you know that you are not supposed to be in here?”

  Stephen yawned again, sitting up and still rubbing at his eyes. “You were not here,” he said simply as he scooted off the bed and nearly fell to the floor because of the height of the bed. He caught himself, though, and shuffled around the side of the bed. “I wanted to show you something. You must see it!”

  Scott found himself following. He was perturbed, that was true. But if was honest with himself, he was only perturbed because he’d nearly stabbed the child. The mere thought of what could have happened gave him a shudder of horror. But he shook it off, following the boy around the side of the bed and over to the eastern wall where the chamber door was located. It was a long wall and there was a wardrobe against it. Next to the wardrobe, Scott could see a clutter of… something. He wasn’t even sure what it was, but Stephen went right to it and plopped down next to it.

  “See?” Stephen said. “I brought my men. I wanted to show you my men.”

  Scott couldn’t really see what the boy was talking about so he went back over to the hearth to light the bank of candles that was next to it. The candles were on an iron floor stand, about four feet in height, and the moment he ignited all three, the room lit up significantly. Then, he could see what the lad was talking about.

  There were many wooden men on the floor around a pile of rushes. There were also two tiny toy trebuchets, much like the big ones that Gordon Huntley had built. Stephen pointed proudly.

  “See my men?” he asked. “This is my army and I am attacking a castle, just like the battle the other day. Those men attacked and we fought them off. Will you help me with my battle?”

  Scott should have been annoyed at the very least. This child was invading his sanctuary, this little sliver of time that he was to have all to himself. But the request from the lonely little boy, now fatherless because of him, had his heart softening more than he would admit. This child was the only son of a man he had admired a great deal and practically the only person from the du Rennic household who had shown him some kindness.

  Aye, he was softening a great deal. It was the father in him.

  “It is growing late, young Stephen,” he said. “Does your mother know you are here?”

  Stephen shook his head, his demeanor changing dramatically. He looked at his men, a smile no longer on his face. “Mam is sad again.”

  Scott frowned. “What does that mean? Where is she?”

  The child turned to his toys. “In bed.”

  “Why do you say she is sad?”

  “She is crying again.”

  Scott sighed faintly; tears, no doubt, as a result of the news he’d delivered earlier in the day. “Where are your sisters?” he asked.

  Stephen put his finger on the trebuchet and released the trigger, causing the little thing to swing forward just like the real ones did. “They are in bed with her,” he said. “Will you please help me with my battle?”

  Scott couldn’t help but feel some pity for the boy, for the situation in general. He also felt some guilt at having caused Lady du Rennic more tears. But it couldn’t be helped. Much like Jeremy, Lady du Rennic had to come to terms with the change that would soon be coming and there wasn’t anything Scott could do to stop it.

  Truthfully, it seemed all he’d done to the du Rennic family was bring sorrow, from Nathaniel’s death to Edward’s directive, and caught in the middle were the children. Like the sad little boy in front of him.

  He knew what he had to do, at least for Stephen’s sake.

  Pulling off his belt and tossing it onto the bed, he went to stand over the child as he played with his toys.

  “I will help you,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

  Stephen lit up. “Here!” he exclaimed, taking a handful of toy soldiers and putting them at Scott’s feet. “You will be the master of the castle and I will attack you. You must defend yourself!”

  Scott frowned as he began to pull off his mail. “Why must I be attacked?” he asked. “Why can I not attack you?”

  Stephen shook his head. “I must attack,” he said firmly. “I will break your walls down.”

  “Not if I prevent you.”

  Stephen was clearly thrilled at the prospect. Stripped down to his padded tunic and breeches now, Scott set his mail aside and planted his big body on the floor next to the boy as they set up their offensive and defensive lines. A battle of epic proportions was shaping up.

  It was a moment in time Scott would never forget.

  He had forgotten what it was like to give children his attention and he realized that he had missed it. He soon discovered Stephen to be very bright and eager to learn, inevitably reminding Scott of his own sons, those living and dead. He’d been around when his boys had been very young because he’d learned from his own father early on what it was to be a good and attentive parent.

  William, Scott’s eldest, was the very image of his grandfather and namesake, a serious young lad who was shy but loving. Thomas, his second born, was more like Athena with his auburn hair and boisterous personality. In fact, Tommy was very much like his grandfather, Paris. And Andrew… young, bright, and loving, was very much like Scott’s own mother, Lady Jordan. Andrew had been Stephen’s age when he had died and the more Scott looked at Stephen, the more he wondered if God wasn’t trying to tell him something.

  It was the first time Scott had been around a boy Andrew’s age sin
ce the accident. Perhaps in Stephen, God was somehow trying to bring him comfort. Perhaps even give him a chance to relive something he’d lost. All Scott knew was that this moment, with a lonely little boy, was bringing him comfort like nothing had in the four years since Andrew’s death. Such a small gesture – playing with wooden soldiers – did something to Scott’s heart. It healed it, just a little. Rather than run from it this time, he gave in to it.

  That night, Scott helped Stephen build a fairly impressive fortress with the old branches. He helped the lad position his men and the tiny siege engines, and spent the rest of the evening in the company of a four-year-old boy who was having the time of his life. To see such joy through the eyes of a child brought a sense of joy to Scott that he hadn’t felt in a very long while. In fact, he began to see that although Stephen had lost his father, and grieved him, he hadn’t lost his joy for life. That’s where Scott and Stephen were different; Scott had lost all of his joy for life and he had no idea how to get it back. But Stephen had never lost it to begin with. This child was still soldiering on.

  Scott had all but given up.

  It was an interesting revelation and one that gave him a good deal of thought as the night progressed. He played with the child for a couple of hours at the very least, not even pausing when his meal was brought in and his squires appeared to take away and clean his mail. But the hour soon began to grow late and as Stephen began to yawn, Scott tried to talk the child into returning to his chamber. Stephen wouldn’t hear of it. He hadn’t ‘broken the wall yet, meaning he’d not breached Scott’s fortified rushes, and wouldn’t retire until he did. Scott had to, therefore, throw the entire siege to allow Stephen to overcome him so the child could go to bed.

  Stephen gloated in his victory but he also made sure to tell Scott he fought a good battle, which Scott found rather touching. It was surprising maturity and compassion, but that was Nathaniel talking. He had raised his son well. Becoming increasingly exhausted, Scott lay down on the floor, listening to Stephen tell him what a grand warrior he was and tried to be helpful about rebuilding the wall that had been torn down. Scott remembered thinking that Stephen would make a fine warrior someday, and would make Nathaniel proud, but that was the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him.