Stewart’s formal manner was wavering. He’d not heard such things from Scott in the past four years and it concerned him. It seemed like a confessional of sorts. “My lord?” he asked hesitantly.
“Aye?”
“May I ask a question?”
“You may.”
“Are you dying?”
Scott looked at him. Then, he broke out into soft laughter, something Stewart hadn’t genuinely seen in years. He was stunned. But Scott shook his head.
“I am not,” he said. “I am not telling you this to clear my conscience. I am telling you this because it is the truth. Stu, you knew me before everything happened. What was I like? And be honest. Please.”
Stewart was torn; should he be honest? There was part of him that was terrified because Scott de Wolfe, since the death of his family, had been a volatile and unpredictable beast. But the Scott he knew before that tragic day… was it actually possible that it was that man who was starting to make a return? Stewart could hardly believe it.
“You were loved by all, my lord,” he said after a moment. “Every man adored you. Every man was your friend. Your father, your brothers, they all adored you. I knew a man of great charisma, of laughter, and of compassion. That was the man I knew.”
“And the man after the accident?”
Stewart lifted his eyebrows, less comfortable talking about that man. “A man who was deeply grieved,” he said, averting his gaze. “A man who was hoping he could erase his past and everything that he held dear.”
Scott’s humor faded. “Is he a hated man?”
Stewart shook his head. “Nay,” he said truthfully. “But he is feared. The Black Adder is to be feared.”
Scott pondered that. These were things he’d never spoken to Stewart about and he found the conversation cathartic. But he also found himself missing the men he had been closest to in life, men he’d run from because he couldn’t deal with his grief… his father… his twin brother… and so many others. Men who meant the world to him but men he couldn’t look in the eye, knowing the pain he’d caused them.
“Thank you for being honest,” he finally said. “I realize how difficult it must have been for you at times, but I wanted you to know that your loyalty has not gone unnoticed. I have pushed everything aside that brought me pain, suppressed memories that caused me to feel, and congratulated myself for my strength of will in such things. But it was more than that, Stu… it was more than erasing my past. It was erasing the memories of the pain in my father’s eye when he told me of my wife’s death and it was erasing the memory of Troy when I saw him collapse over it. Knowing I caused it all… a man cannot live with such guilt and not be changed by it.”
Stewart was listening intently. “But you did not cause any of it, my lord,” he said. “I was there. I saw what happened. I saw your father when he told you what had happened and I saw the grief in his eyes when you ran. My lord, if I may be perfectly frank – when you ran, you caused your father even more grief because not only had he lost grandchildren and daughters, he also lost a son when you left. And – forgive me, my lord – but I was not completely honest when I told you why I had remained with you. Mayhap it is not the right time to tell you this, but I feel I must. I do not want you to feel as if I have betrayed you, for surely, I have not. When you ran and I went with you, your father sent me a missive. He asked me to watch over you for him and should you ever need him, I was to send him word. And he told me that should I ever have the opportunity, I was to give you a message for him.”
Scott looked at Stewart in shock, but in the wave of emotion that rolled over his features came an expression of disbelief followed by something that could have possibly been fear. But he didn’t run and he didn’t become angry; something forced him to stay, to hold his ground against the message Stewart evidently bore.
“You have been my father’s spy?” he asked, attempting to clarify. “He has asked you to watch me for him and report back?”
Stewart shook his head. “Never, my lord,” he said firmly. “He never asked me to spy and he never asked for reports. All he asked of me was to watch over you and send word to him should you ever need him. I swear upon my oath as a knight, that is all he ever asked.”
Scott believed him. He was a bit unnerved knowing the truth, but he believed the knight nonetheless. “What did he ask you to tell me?”
Stewart didn’t hesitate. “That he loves you more than the sun loves the day and the moon loves the night,” he said softly. “You are his firstborn and no matter where you go or what you do, he will wait every day for your return. You are his son, my lord, and there are no words to describe the pride he has in you. He said to tell you that he will wait for you no matter how long it takes.”
Scott stared at him and, as Stewart watched, the man’s eyes filled with tears and spilled over. Quickly, Scott wiped a hand over his face, dashing the tears that continued to fall. He wiped and wiped, turning away from Stewart to compose himself but it was a long time in coming. The more he thought about his father, a man he adored, the more upset he became. Those feelings he’d suppressed for so long, those awakened by Avrielle, were bleeding out of his very pores and he was struggling to control them.
Papa… the great knight William de Wolfe was his father. But in truth, Scott hadn’t known how great his father was until he was a few years old. He had seen the way men behaved around him, with great respect, but to him, William was the man who would get down on the floor and roll around with him and his brothers, pretending to be defeated by their wooden swords.
When he grew older, William was a man of strict discipline but of great affection. Scott always wanted to be like him. But after the death of his wife and children, he realized he had failed miserably at that. Scott had always wanted to be a son his father took pride in. In spite of what Stewart told him, he wondered if that was true.
God, he missed the man.
“I have not been home in three years,” he finally said, taking a deep breath as he blinked away the last of his tears. “I am supposed to be the garrison commander at Wolfe’s Lair but I am sure my father has another commander by now. One cannot command a castle he never visits.”
Stewart knew that. “I am sure whoever is there is only temporary, my lord,” he said. “Rule Water Castle belongs to you.”
Scott nodded faintly, thinking of the rather big, imposing castle on the Scottish Marches that had been captured by his father many years ago. In fact, it had been one of the first battles Scott had ever participated in as a full-fledged knight. His father had taken it from the Scots and had promptly turned it over to his young and excitable son who had been wildly proud to command it.
Scott would never forget the feelings of gratification and delight in his first command. He’d loved the place, so much so that he had raised his family there. But when he’d lost most of his family, he couldn’t stomach returning. The more he thought on Wolfe’s Lair, the more he realized how much he longed to see it again.
Home.
It seemed that there were many feelings returning during this conversation with Stewart, feelings he should have been embarrassed over but he realized that he wasn’t. They made him feel human again. He turned to Stewart.
“Thank you for relaying that message from my father,” he said. “I suppose I understand that you could not do it until now. Until I was ready.”
Stewart nodded slowly. “I am glad you understand that, my lord.”
Scott eyed the man a moment before averting his gaze and wandering back over to the table, plopping his buttocks down on the tabletop near Stewart. Since the entire conversation between them had been bluntly honest, Scott was brought back to the very reason they were here. Something he’d said to Edward’s messenger was now back to the forefront in his mind and he found he needed to explain himself.
“Now,” he said. “There is something you must understand. I am assuming you heard me tell Edward’s messenger that Nathaniel du Rennic asked me, upon his deathbe
d, to marry his widow.”
Stewart nodded. “Aye, my lord. I heard.”
Scott shook his head. “It was not true,” he said. Then, he sighed heavily. “I do not honestly know why I said that other than the fact that the woman has been through enough since Nathaniel’s death. Understanding grief as I do, the last thing she needs is to be thrown into a marriage with a stranger, someone who will treat her like property. That is no life for a woman like Lady du Rennic. She deserves better than that.”
There was something soft in his tone as he said it and it occurred to Stewart that everything he’d suspected about Scott’s feelings towards Lady du Rennic were not, in fact, his imagination. Stewart had first suspected some manner of romance when the missive came from Edward and Scott had refused to obey it. But Scott had made a very good case for his reluctance to turn Lady du Rennic over to Edward and Stewart had believed him. He had no reason not to.
Now, however, Stewart knew beyond a doubt that Scott had feelings for Lady du Rennic. It was written all over the man, in his words and in his manner. Whether or not Scott realized it was another matter entirely, so Stewart was very careful in his response.
“So you have lied to protect her, my lord?” he asked.
There was that word again – protect – and Scott looked at Stewart sharply. He remembered yesterday in the solar when he’d explained to Stewart that he had not, in fact, been inclined to protect Lady du Rennic against Edward’s intentions. He’d given the man a rather believable story about wanting to show Nathaniel respect by allowing his widow to grieve his loss as long as she was able. But in looking at Stewart now, Scott knew the man suspected something. Scott wasn’t inclined to deny it any longer simply because he was tired of lying to himself as well as others. He knew now that he’d been lying for the past four years – lying about no feelings, no emotion, no hint of humanity.
It had all been a lie.
He didn’t want to lie any longer.
“Aye,” he finally said. “I lied to protect her because I do not want her to marry someone of Edward’s choosing.”
Stewart looked at him, curiously. “Then you will choose her husband, as her liege?”
Scott was looking at his hands. He seemed to be mulling over his answer. After a moment, he shook his head and looked away. “I do not know, Stu,” he said in all honesty. “I do not know what I am feeling. All I know is that I cannot stand the thought of that woman with another man. I have had a few conversations with her and she is unlike any woman I have ever known. She is strong and she is compassionate. She is also very beautiful. You suggested once in jest that I marry her and create a vast empire. Mayhap you were not so far wrong. Mayhap I should.”
That seemed fairly close to a confession as far as Stewart was concerned. Perhaps it was as they had all hoped and prayed; perhaps the Scott de Wolfe they had known and loved had not died on that horrible day four years ago. Perhaps he was still there, simply waiting to be reborn. Perhaps all it would take was a sad widow with three small children to make Scott feel alive again. Whatever it was, Stewart approved. In fact, he was vastly relieved.
“Whatever you decide, my lord, know that you have my support,” he said as he stood up. “Thank you for this honest conversation. I will treasure it.”
Scott looked at Stewart, seeing the loyal and stalwart man he’d known all of these years. He felt extremely fortunate to have him. More than that, he felt relieved that the man knew what he was feeling. He wouldn’t have to lie to him about it anymore, and there was comfort in that.
“As will I,” he said as he stood up. “I do not need to say that this conversation shall go no further.”
“You do not, my lord.”
“Good.” Scott began to move for the hall entrance, his eyes stinging from the smoke in the air. When Stewart opened the door, a blast of fresh, cold hair blew away the smoke and he blinked to clear his vision. “Make sure the messenger leaves tonight.”
“I will, my lord.”
Scott paused. “Speaking of leaving tonight, what about Jeremy Huntley? Is the man gone yet?”
Stewart shook his head. “You gave him a sound beating. He cannot even stand, so it will be a few days before he is able to leave.”
Scott grunted, displeased. “Keep him from my sight while he remains.”
“I will, my lord.” He hesitated. “My lord, they are without a physic at Canaan and Huntley’s beating was serious. If I may suggest…”
“I am not going to tend the man.”
“Nay,” Stewart shook his head. “I did not mean to ask you. But we have a surgeon that could see to him. If the man does not heal quickly, he cannot leave quickly.”
He had a point. Scott stepped from the hall and out into the muddy bailey, glancing up at the sky now that dusk was approaching. “Mayhap,” he said. “I will have to think on it. And on a more pleasant note, you will prepare an escort to depart at dawn tomorrow. I will need a wagon and forty armed men, plus you and one other. I do not care who they are, but leave Milo here in command.”
Stewart followed him into the bailey. “Indeed, my lord,” he said. “Where are we going?”
Scott glanced at him, seemingly fighting off a smirk. “To see a man about some flowers.”
With that, he left Stewart standing near the hall, scratching his head. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out that somehow, someway, that command involved Lady du Rennic.
Stewart would have bet money on it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In truth, Avrielle had never seen her children so alive and eager for an excursion.
They were up before dawn, running about like wild animals, excited at the day to come. Avrielle had a time trying to dress them, struggling to corral the older two while the old nurse tended the infant. Even though Avrielle had only intended to bring her older children on the journey, there was some concern with an infant that would have to go all day without being fed were she to leave the child behind. There wasn’t a wet nurse to be found, at least not at this short notice, so Avrielle realized that she had to take the baby with her. As she focused on dressing her older children, she had the nurse bundle the baby up for the journey.
But she didn’t mind, to be truthful. The day had dawned clear and bright, making it a beautiful spring morning that was perfect for travel. Scott and his men were already waiting with a wagon and an escort party in the bailey of Canaan. Avrielle could see them from the window of the chamber that faced into the bailey and she immediately spied Scott as he moved around the party, pointing at things that could be improved upon or leaning on the wagon bed to test the wheels.
As the old nurse followed the children around, trying to warmly dress them against the cold spring morning, Avrielle stood at the window perhaps longer than she should have. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes from Scott as he moved around, dressed in mail and pieces of plate protection on his big arms, but his head was bare and his cropped blonde hair was glistening in the early morning light. He was quite enchanting to watch, the way he moved, and she felt rather scandalous spying on him as she was. She was a widow only these past few months and shouldn’t be thinking about another man.
But the truth was that she couldn’t help it.
She’d thought about Scott all night, dreaming of his square-jawed beauty and eyes that were hazel, almost a pale shade of green. She’d loved Nathaniel, that was true, but it was an adoration of a man who had been both a husband and a father to her in many ways. She was so very young when she had married him and Nathaniel had already been in his fiftieth year. He’d been married before, and for quite some time, to a fine woman who had never given him children.
Avrielle remembered that Nathaniel had barely waited a year after his wife died before he sought her hand, and she further remembered that he had bedded her day and night after they were married until she became with child. The man had clearly been eager to have a son and was thrilled when she became pregnant. Sophia had been born before they’d been marrie
d a year and Stephen three years later, and Nathaniel had been delighted beyond measure. He finally had the family he’d so wanted.
And Avrielle had a husband that adored her. He was of great comfort to her with his warmth and wisdom, and he was respected by all, but her heart had never raced when she gazed upon him. Her breathing remained normal, not labored as it did when she gazed upon Scott. In fact, she’d never before experienced any of the excitement with Nathaniel that she was experiencing with Scott. It was like comparing the gentle harvest moon to a wild and stormy night – there was great comfort and admiration in that harvest moon, but there was unbridled excitement and passion in that stormy night.
Scott was her stormy night.
Avrielle knew that now. A sleepless night with nothing but Scott on her mind had made her realize that the man had her attention. She worried that in her grief for Nathaniel, she’d found misplaced interest in the first man to truly give her comfort, but she really didn’t think so. What she was coming to feel for Scott was completely different than what she’d felt for Nathaniel. What she’d felt for her husband was sacred and warm. Anything she felt for Scott would never diminish it. But if it was possible to have a future with a man who had helped her so much in the wake of Nathaniel’s death… then that was something she was willing to consider.
She wondered if Scott would be willing, too.
Turning away from the window, Avrielle took particular care in finishing her dress. She found that she wanted to look beautiful so Scott would look upon her favorably. Today, she wore a soft shift of lamb’s wool and over it she wore a garment that was a mixture of two fabrics – a dark blue wool and a lighter blue silk, sewn together in panels. Since giving birth, her belly had shrunk considerably but her breasts remained full, giving her a very luscious figure. The cote fit her snuggly and over it she wore a matching cape of blue wool lined with rabbit fur. It was very warm, perhaps too warm in the spring weather, but it matched the dress and she was determined to wear it. Her long hair was combed and plaited, with the plait wrapped in a bun at the nape of her neck, secured by pins and combs with painted butterflies on them.
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