It had been one of the better evenings he’d spent over the past four years.
*
Stephen was sleeping like the dead, pressed up against Scott, who was also sleeping like the dead.
Avrielle could hardly believe her eyes.
Having cried herself to sleep the night before with her children in bed with her, she hadn’t realized that Stephen had somehow slipped out until she awoke before dawn and realized that only the girls were still with her. She hadn’t been worried until a search of her chamber and the children’s chamber had turned up empty. Then, she began to feel a bit apprehensive and searched through the remaining two family chambers, and every chamber on the top floor of the castle including the guard rooms, but still no Stephen. Frightened, and with a lump in her throat, she’d gone to de Wolfe’s chamber as a last resort to ask for help in searching for her son before coming upon the scene she was witnessing now.
Still, she could hardly believe it.
Scott was flat on his back on the cold, hard floor, snoring loudly, as Stephen slept cuddled up next to the man, his head on de Wolfe’s left shoulder. At first, Avrielle was startled, shocked even, but that reaction quickly faded when she saw the rushes stacked up like a castle and Stephen’s toys spread out all over the place. Clearly, there had been something going on here. But given de Wolfe’s demeanor, she could hardly believe the man had allowed Stephen to play with his toys in this chamber.
… or did he?
The evidence was clear and de Wolfe was sleeping on the floor next to her son, so she could only imagine that some kind of play had gone on. Perhaps de Wolfe had even encouraged it. Dare she say it – perhaps he even participated in it? The mighty Lord Bretherdale reduced to playing children’s games? It was the most astonishing thing she had ever seen.
But it was also the most touching.
Stephen had been so lonely without Nathaniel, who used to play with his son quite frequently. It would only be natural for Stephen to gravitate towards another male figure, in this case, Scott de Wolfe. Avrielle had kept her son away from his uncle because of Jeremy’s volatility and his interaction with Gordon had been limited because Gordon spent all of his time trying to keep Jeremy from doing anything foolish.
But de Wolfe… he must have shown some measure of compassion towards Stephen that should make her son come to the man’s chamber with his toys. That was the only explanation Avrielle could come up with. But she had to admit one thing… seeing de Wolfe on the floor with her son, both of them laying there as if they were sleeping off a drinking binge, made her see the man through different eyes.
Kinder eyes, perhaps.
With a smile on her lips, Avrielle watched the scene for a moment before deciding not to wake them. At least she knew where her son was now and she would wait for the lad to awaken on his own. Silently, she turned away from the pair on the floor and headed to the door when she heard a soft voice behind her.
“Are you going to leave without taking what you have come for?”
Startled, she turned around to see that Scott’s eyes were open and he was looking at her. The snoring he’d been doing had come to an abrupt halt but Stephen remained sound asleep. She took a few quiet steps back in Scott’s direction.
“You both seemed so peaceful that I did not wish to wake you,” she whispered. “I awoke a short while ago to discover that Stephen was missing and…”
Scott cut her off, but it was not harshly done. “He has been here since last night,” he muttered, putting a hand over the boy’s ear when Stephen stirred against him, roused by the voices. “I suppose I should have sent word to you, but time got away from me. I apologize if you were frightened.”
Avrielle moved closer so they would not be raising their voices as they spoke. She crouched down at Scott’s feet, her gaze lovingly on her son.
“Now that I know he is with you, I am content,” she said. “But I am sorry if he has been a bother.”
“Why would you say that?”
She pointed to the pile of toys and rushes. “Because he brought his toys in here. Did he demand you play with him?”
A spark of warmth came to Scott’s eyes. “He will make a very good knight,” he said after a moment. “I see much of Nathaniel in him. He will make his father very proud.”
Avrielle smiled faintly, finding pride in her young son. “Nat was proud of him already,” she murmured. “He used to play with Stephen for hours, instructing him on how to lay a siege or position his men. To Stephen, it was play. But to Nat, it was somewhat serious. He wanted to impart his wisdom upon his son. Stephen has been very lonely without Nat here to play with.”
Scott’s gaze lingered on the woman in the weak light, thinking that she was even more beautiful with the faint hint of morning light upon her face. “Does he not play with your father or brother?” he asked.
Avrielle shrugged. “Sometimes,” she said. “But I have kept him away from my brother since Nat’s death. Jeremy’s mood has been too volatile and I do not want… well, it does not matter. It would not interest you. Suffice it to say that I am very grateful for the patience and kindness you have shown him.”
“It was no trouble.”
Avrielle’s gaze was on her son, looking at the way Scott was holding him. Like a father. Scott looked very comfortable with Stephen in his arms and that made Avrielle’s heart leap strangely. It was difficult to believe that beneath that serious, intimidating exterior beat the heart of a man with some compassion and understanding for children. It reminded her of what Nathaniel had told her about Scott’s tragedy, something that Avrielle had brought up in the heat of an argument yesterday. Something she shouldn’t have spoken of, but did it to make a point.
It had been wrong of her.
“Thank you for your understanding,” she said quietly. Then she hesitated a moment before continuing. “My lord, I… I must say something to you. I must apologize for speaking out of place yesterday when you told me of the king’s directive and I asked if you would be so eager to remarry after the death of your wife. I should not have said such a thing; it was terribly cruel and I pray you can forgive me. I was upset and I should have controlled my tongue better than I did. It is a fault of mine, speaking before I think at times.”
Scott could hear the sincerity in her tone. In truth, he almost couldn’t remember the harsh words between them but he was pleased with the apology. It told him that she was a woman of deep feeling for others, one who was cognizant of her actions. The woman had her entire world turned upside down but still, she was able to see beyond her own pain. Somehow, that made her more beautiful to him.
“We often say things in anger that we should not have,” he said. “Think no more of it.”
She forced a smile. “It is difficult not to,” she said. “It is difficult not to think of everything that has happened since Nat’s death, and now this. I… I suppose you were correct when you said that life goes on. I know that. But there is a huge part of me that does not want to go on.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged, averting her gaze as she lowered herself to her buttocks, her back braced against the bed. “I mean that I want everything to remain as it is,” she said quietly. “I never thought I would be facing the rest of my life without Nat. We met when I was very young, you see. I was about to turn sixteen when I married him and eight years later, I cannot seem to envision my life without him. He promised to return to me and raise our children together and I suppose there is a part of me who has not forgiven him for not keeping that promise.”
“That is understandable.”
“May… may I ask you a question, my lord?”
“Aye.”
She swallowed hard, as if struggling how to phrase her question. “If I may ask how you have…,” she trailed off, stopped, and then started again. “That is to say, do you have any regrets from your wife’s passing? Were you angry with her for leaving you? I find that I am very angry with Nat for leaving me and I feel so
terribly guilty for it. Is it wrong of me to be so furious with him?”
It wasn’t an unexpected question, but one Scott found himself naturally reluctant to answer. “Have you spoken to your priest about this? I cannot give you absolution, Lady du Rennic.”
Avrielle’s face flushed red with, perhaps, some embarrassment. “I am not looking for absolution,” she said. “And I have spoken with a priest, but he said so many foolish things meant to give me comfort. They did not give me comfort at all. I thought that you… because you have suffered through this… might tell me if you felt the same things. Mayhap, I would not feel so guilty if I knew someone else has experienced what I have.”
Scott considered her words carefully. Had anyone else asked him these questions, he would have refused to answer, but with Avrielle, it was different. She was genuinely trying to find answers in a world that didn’t make sense any longer. Having gone through the same thing she had, the death of a beloved spouse, Scott could understand her search for answers. She was absolutely right in that assumption.
It took him a moment to realize that for the first time in four years, he felt as if he could answer the question and not implode because of it. The time he’d spent here at Canaan with a grieving family, and a lonely little boy, had somehow given him strength and perspective in a matter he’d ignored for so long. Odd how the little things had affected him more than he realized. It was dangerous ground he was about to tread on, but perhaps it was time for him. Perhaps in helping her, he would help himself as well.
With a sigh, he looked up to the ceiling as he allowed his mind to go back to that day. But, God… it was terrifying.
“My wife and her sister were taking the younger children to visit my brother in Berwick, whose wife had just had a baby,” he said softly. “I was supposed to accompany them but my father had business that needed attending to and he asked if I would tend to it for him. I agreed. I was to ride to Northwood Castle to deliver a few things on behalf of my father while my wife and her sister would ride to Berwick in the company of a contingent of men that I hand-picked. I was worried about the Scots, you see, and that was my only concern. I was not worried about anything else at that time. But in hindsight, it was that lack of foresight that caused the death of my wife, her sister, my two youngest children, and my wife’s sister’s two youngest children. My wife’s sister also happened to be married to my twin brother so, in that sense, I caused the death of his children as well. I killed two families that day.”
Avrielle had to make a conscious effort to keep her mouth from opening in horror as the story unfolded. “Why?” she gasped. “What happened?”
Scott’s mind lingered on that day, the first time in all of those years that he’d allowed himself to truly ponder it. Once he put a foot in the memory pool, it was like quicksand – it sucked him up and he could not escape. Now, he was seeing that day with blinding clarity and he was unable to pull away. He steeled himself against those memories, struggling to stay calm.
“My wife was very headstrong,” he said, his voice husky and low. “It was my fault that I indulged her in most things. If she wanted to go somewhere, I would allow her to go. If she wanted to do something, or to buy something, I would allow it. She was difficult to deny because she would usually beat at me like a harpy until she got her way. She always got her way, in everything. Had I been with her on the trip to Berwick, I would have seen that the swollen river and the damaged bridge were unsafe and I would have refused to let her cross it. But I was not there and the soldiers I had sent with her did not have the authority to deny her, even in cases of safety. I had not made that clear to them. I thought my wife would have had better sense than to try and take a heavy carriage across a damaged bridge, but evidently, she did not. She insisted the carriage cross and the bridge collapsed, dumping the carriage into the water. Everyone inside drowned as a result.”
Avrielle was stunned. “Oh… my lord,” she breathed. “I am so sorry. How you must have agonized over the situation.”
His jaw ticked faintly as he thought on what, exactly, he’d felt over the years. He’d spent so much time running from it that he really wasn’t sure. “Am I angry at her?” he mumbled. “Aye, I am. Now, four years after the fact, I am still very angry at her for risking her life and the lives of our children. But I find that I am more angry with myself that I was not with her at the time. I could have prevented it all. Therefore, Lady du Rennic, your guilt in Nat’s death is not unusual, for I know exactly what you feel.”
As he finished, Avrielle was struggling not to weep. It was a horrific tragedy, something that Nathaniel had touched on when he told her of de Wolfe’s catastrophe but he hadn’t elaborated. Now, she knew the entire story and it was very difficult not to weep for the man. And for herself.
Loss like that cut too deeply for words.
“Then you do understand,” she whispered tightly. “I am so sorry for you, my lord, truly. But it was not your fault. How could you have known?”
Scott had been asking himself that same question since it happened. “I could not have,” he said. “But I should have had the foresight to instruct the guards and my wife on issues of safety. It did not occur to me.”
“As it would not have occurred to me,” Avrielle insisted. “You cannot blame yourself for your wife’s decision. It was her own and if she was as headstrong as you say she was, even if you were there, could you really have prevented her from crossing the bridge?”
Another question Scott had been asking himself. He sighed with resignation. “Mayhap,” he said. “Mayhap not. Knowing Athena, she would have found a way to go around me.”
So the mysterious dead wife had a name. “Athena,” she murmured. “What a beautiful name.”
“It suited her.”
“And your children? May I know their names so that I may pray for them?”
“Andrew and Beatrice. They were four years old and three years old, respectively.”
Avrielle thought on the children he lost, very small like her own. Sadly, she shook her head. “They were so young,” she whispered.
“They were.”
“But you said you have older sons?”
He nodded. “Much older,” he said, thinking of his eldest children. “They are fostering near Hereford. Lioncross Abbey Castle, in fact.”
Avrielle thought on the proud de Wolfe sons. “I am sure they have been a great comfort to you in this time of sadness.”
Scott was still staring at the ceiling as he thought of his sons who were now young men. “I have not seen them in years,” he said. “I see no need.”
It was a surprising statement and Avrielle cocked her head curiously. “Why would you say that?” she asked. “I am sure they would welcome a visit from their father.”
Scott was starting to feel some agitation now, entering a phase of the conversation where he felt no peace, no resolution, and that agitation loosened his tongue. Much as her husband had been, Lady du Rennic seemed easy to speak to and Scott felt no hesitation when speaking to her of his life, his situation. Once the subject was breached, it was as if it all started pouring forth.
“Because I am sure they blame me, also,” he said. “You may as well know that I do not find comfort in my family as you do. It was my wife who made the decision to cross the damaged bridge and I could not look into my brother’s eyes, a man who had lost his wife and two children also, and not see his anger towards me. I could not look at my father or my wife’s father and not see the accusations in their eyes. I am the eldest son of William de Wolfe, the feared Wolfe of the Borders, and I am not supposed to be anything other than perfect. My life, my family, including my wife and children, are all supposed to be perfect. Do you not understand? Because I let my wife do as she pleased, my entire family is fractured and it is all my fault. You speak of guilt, lady? I have enough to fill an ocean and then some.”
Avrielle could see his raw vulnerability in that moment. The man had such pain in him that he kept masked by a s
tiff demeanor and intimidating manner. God, how he’d suffered. Impulsively, she reached out and clasped his right hand laying at his side. She gripped his big fingers tightly.
“I cannot believe that you would be blamed for such a tragedy,” she insisted softly. “You had no control over the events and I am sure your family knows that. You cannot blame yourself for your wife’s decision, much as I know I cannot blame Nat for his decision to go to battle one last time. They may be our spouses, but we cannot control them. They have minds of their own. You have been accepting guilt that was not yours to take.”
Scott looked at her, feeling her warm hand holding his, and his heart began to race. Her words made so much sense to him and he found himself glad that he’d spoken of his feelings to her. She understood, a deeper grasp of the situation than anyone else who knew of it, simply because she was living it herself. Everything she said was true and the words of encouragement, of forgiveness, cut through him more than anything ever had in the four years since it had happened. His mother had tried to speak to him on it, as had his father, his brothers, his uncles… everyone had tried to speak to him on his guilt but he wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t accept it. But now… a woman he barely knew, who was suffering through the same thing he had, was telling him something his own family couldn’t get through to him.
But with Avrielle… he was listening.
“It is my burden,” he said hoarsely, gazing into her bright blue eyes and feeling a rush of emotion. “Someone must be blamed and that someone is me. It is the only way I can live with the situation.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 187