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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Troy wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she’d jumped right in to help with the smoke situation. She hadn’t stood by the door and cowered; this was a woman who was used to action. She’d loosened up through the evening and he thanked God that he wasn’t dealing with a wife who needed to be bound hand and foot in order to keep her from hurting others or herself. Moreover, she wasn’t trying to run anymore.

  He saw that as progress.

  “I think the smell of smoke will be here for some time to come,” he said, rising from the hearth, which was now properly evacuating the smoke out of a chimney that had been partially blocked. “We shall have to become used to it.”

  Rhoswyn stopped waving the oiled cloth around because the air was much clearer now. She watched Troy as he went to the door and quietly closed it. Their eyes met when he turned to face her and an awkward silence settled. Troy lifted his eyebrows, thinking he should probably say something that would make them both feel at ease.

  “Well,” he said, clearing his throat softly as he moved back towards the hearth. “Since we both find ourselves in an unexpected situation this night, mayhap it would be best if we learn something about one another. It might make you feel more comfortable considering we know virtually nothing about each other.”

  Without the hundreds of English soldiers surrounding her, Rhoswyn was easing up considerably. It was just her and Troy now, and it was natural that she should be curious about him. They were to spend the rest of their lives together, a concept she was having a difficult time with. In truth, she’d never been close to anyone in her life, not even her father, so it was an odd notion. She had no friends, and she had no idea where to even start.

  “I dunna know what more I need tae know of ye,” she said quietly. “Ye’re a de Wolfe. Me pa said that ye’re a fine man. What else is there?”

  Clearly, she had no concept on what a marriage was like. Troy scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Much more,” he said. “More than you know. You should know something of me and I should know something of you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Who taught you how to fight?”

  Her chin lifted in a gesture that hinted at defiance. “Me pa.”

  Troy folded his big arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall. “And how long have you been fighting?”

  “All me life.”

  Troy’s eyebrows lifted. “Even when you were a young lass?”

  She nodded. “Having no sons, me pa taught me how tae wield a sword and how tae fight. He said it came naturally tae me.”

  “And you like to fight?”

  Rhoswyn had to think about his question; it confused her. “What else is there?”

  He shrugged. “I simply meant that most young ladies do not lift swords,” he said. “There are many things young women do that do not involve sharp blades or drawing blood.”

  There was that dry sense of humor again, but Rhoswyn was oblivious to it. Her brow furrowed and Troy could see that she really had no concept of what he was saying.

  “But… but this is what I do,” she said. “This is me.”

  Troy studied her a moment, wondering what to say next. She didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist, nor did he see much depth to her personality. He hoped she wasn’t some dullard; it would be terrible to be saddled to a senseless, foolish woman for the rest of his life, no matter how lovely she was.

  “Did your father educate you?” he asked. “What I mean to ask is what more do you know other than fighting?”

  She knew what he meant. “Me ma taught me tae sew and sing,” she said. “I can read and speak English, Gaelic, and Latin.”

  That surprised him. “Who taught you that?”

  “Me ma. She died when I had seen eleven summers.” Now, she was becoming bolder. She didn’t want to talk about herself anymore. “Can I ask ye a question?”

  He nodded. “Aye.”

  “Ye told me earlier that ye did not want tae marry again. Does that mean that ye’ve been married before?”

  Troy thought on her question; he had said that, hadn’t he? He supposed there was no harm in telling her the truth. She would find out, eventually, given that everyone who knew him knew he’d been married before. Someone would tell her if he didn’t.

  “Aye,” he replied, averting his gaze as he turned to look at the fire. “I was married very young. I had seen twenty-two years and she had seen fifteen years. We had three children together but only one has survived. My wife and two youngest children were killed two years ago.”

  Rhoswyn found herself inherently sympathetic to that news. “Oh,” she said solemnly. “What… what happened?”

  “They drowned.”

  That sounded quite tragic to her. “But ye have one child left?”

  He nodded. “My son, Andreas,” he said. “He has seen seventeen years and he is fostering at Norwich Castle.”

  “Ye must be proud of the lad.”

  “He is my shining star.”

  Rhoswyn watched him as he spoke, his subdued manner. Even though his answers were without emotion, it was his expression that gave him away. Speaking about his dead wife and children was still upsetting to him even though he tried to cover it up. But oddly enough, his confession somehow made her more sympathetic to him.

  It made him more human.

  This wasn’t a single-dimension Sassenach warrior. This was a man who had suffered great loss but continued to push through it. She wondered if he felt terribly lonely, though. He seemed that way to her.

  Then, the guilt began to set in.

  This was the same man she’d fought, kneed, hit, and humiliated. Then, she’d refused to marry him so strongly that she had to be carried to him in ropes to their wedding. In her defense, she hadn’t cared what the man thought at the time. She still wasn’t sure she did, but now she was sliding into that gray area of awkward guilt over her behavior. Something inside urged her to show him she wasn’t the wild animal his father had accused her of being.

  “Norwich Castle,” she said, attempting to continue the conversation. “Is that near London?”

  Troy nodded. “It is not too far from it,” he said. “About a day’s ride.”

  “Have ye been tae London, then?”

  He grinned. “Many times. Have you?”

  She shook her head as if she would rather be dead than set foot on the streets of London. “Nay, laddie. Never.”

  He laughed at the way she said it, the term she called him. Laddie. His father called him that on occasion, but no one else had dared refer to him as a lad in a very long time. He rather liked to hear it in her sultry voice, so much so that he didn’t mind at all.

  “Then we shall go sometime,” he said. “Surely you would like to travel out of Scotland and see other places, other people.”

  She looked at him as if he’d just asked her to go to the moon. “Out of Scotland, ye say?” she asked, astonished. “What would I do out of Scotland?”

  “You do not wish to travel?”

  She shrugged. “I… I wouldna know how.”

  Troy’s gaze lingered on her a moment. “Did you never go anywhere with your father?”

  She shook her head. “Me pa doesna leave Sibbald’s. ’Tis our home, ye know.”

  “I know. But why does he not leave?”

  Rhoswyn shrugged. “He just doesna,” she said. “I canna recall him leavin’ more than just a few times in me life, so comin’ tae Monteviot was rare for him. I think he feels anxious when he leaves. He always wants tae go home.”

  Troy already knew that about Red Keith Kerr; they all knew that the man rarely strayed from home. It could be because he simply loved his home too much to leave it, or it could be because he was afraid when he left home. Troy had seen men who couldn’t leave their homes or lift a weapon, anxieties of men who had seen too much battle. It wasn’t uncommon. Pushing himself off of the wall, he turned to the fire one last time.

  “Well,” he said, “if that’s the man’s choice, so be i
t. But you may like to travel to London someday. Or we do not have to go to London; we can go to York or Carlisle, or anywhere else you might like to go.”

  Rhoswyn had never considered anything like that in her life. Leaving her home, her father’s lands, had never even occurred to her.

  “I say it is enough that I’m here,” she said. “I canna think on goin’ anywhere else. I’ve never spent a night away from Sibbald’s in me life.”

  Troy poked at the wood, settling it down into a warm blaze. Her mention of spending the night outside of Sibbald’s reminded him of what was to come this night, of what was to be expected. He hoped she had an idea of it, too, because she seemed to have lived a rather sheltered life. He didn’t want her going mad with what he was about to tell her.

  “Speaking of the night,” he said as he stirred the fire, “you understand what it is that married people do on their wedding night, don’t you?”

  Rhoswyn looked at him sharply, realizing what he was asking, and then feeling her cheeks flame at the mere thought. Did she know? She certainly did. This was the moment she had been dreading.

  “Aye,” she said. “I know.”

  “What do you know?”

  She frowned. “I havena done it before if that’s what ye’re askin’.”

  He tried not to smile at her outrage. “That is not what I meant,” he said. “I simply meant… since I have done this before, if you would like me to explain the situation, I will be happy to.”

  Rhoswyn had never been so embarrassed in her life. To speak of such personal things with a stranger! But Troy wasn’t any stranger; he was her husband. As of tonight, he would be a stranger no longer. But so much about this day had been in upheaval – her entire life was in upheaval, now with a husband who wanted to take her to London and explain the ways of men and women to her. It was almost too much to process and for the first time all evening, her composure was fracturing. Not in the sense that she wanted to run away again, but in the sense that she couldn’t comprehend a man who would be so understanding. Not after the day they’d had.

  “Why?” she finally hissed, unable to look at him. “Why would ye do this?”

  Troy turned from the fire to look at her. “Do what?”

  She turned her head away completely. “Be so kind tae me,” she said. “Do ye not realize what I did tae ye today?”

  “I do.”

  “Yet ye show no anger?” She did turn around, then, looking him in the eye. “I wanted tae defeat ye and I did. I hit ye and I kicked ye and knocked ye tae the ground!”

  “I know.”

  That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “But, still, ye have been kind tae me,” she said. “I dunna understand why ye would do such a thing.”

  Troy stood up from the fire, scratching his head pensively. Then, he eyed her as he formulated an answer to what was a legitimate question.

  “I suppose I did it because you were more upset about the situation than I was,” he said. “I am much older than you are, Rhoswyn. I have seen much in life. It is true that I can become angry rather quickly and it is true that you made me angry today with your tactics. But, as my father pointed out, you did not trick me. You simply used the element of surprise. I cannot become angry about that because, in hindsight, it was a smart tactic. As much as I did not like it, you did what you had to do. From one warrior to another, I respect that.”

  Rhoswyn was looking up at him, listening to that deep, soothing voice. “I did it because I knew I couldna best ye any other way,” she said. “Ye’re bigger than I am and more powerful. I knew if I dinna strike ye down first, I would never have another chance.”

  He nodded as he sat down on the edge of the mattress. “I realize that,” he said. “You ask why I have been kind to you? Because you were forced into this just as I was, but now that it is done, we must make the best of it. I would like for this union to be a civil one. I do not want to spend the rest of my life fighting with you.”

  It was the rational way to look at the situation and Rhoswyn realized that she, too, didn’t want to spend the rest of her life fighting with him.

  “If we must be together, then I would like it tae be civil also,” she said.

  Troy simply nodded, pleased that she was at least agreeing with him. That gave him hope. With that, the conversation died off and he bent over a leg and began to unfasten a boot.

  As Rhoswyn watched, the boot came off and he went to work on the other one, and she began to realize that he was undressing for bed. Or, at least, what was to come in bed. Feeling her nerves all over again, she turned her back on him and looked down at herself; she wasn’t one to sleep in her shift. In fact, she’d slept in her clothes since she was a child. It was her mother’s influence that made her bathe and brush her hair once in a while but, for that, she wouldn’t have cared in the least. And she’d never in her life undressed in front of anyone.

  She wore three tunics and the heavy leather tunic on top of that. Her legs were clad in the leather breeches and, like Troy, she wore boots. She glanced over her shoulder to see that he was removing his heavy woolen tunic with the wolf’s head on it, so she thought she might as well remove the leather tunic she wore. It was more like an apron and she unfastened the ties, pulling it over her head and tossing it against the wall.

  Sitting down on the mattress, she untied her boots, which were nothing like Troy’s boots. His were smooth pieces of leather, expertly sewn together and crafted, while her boots were simply pieces of leather attached to a sole that were then held to her leg by a series of ties. Glancing over her shoulder casually to see what state of undress he was in, she could see that he’d taken off his padded tunic, revealing a thin linen tunic beneath. Since he’d removed another piece of clothing, she did too.

  Unbeknownst to Troy, every time he would remove something, Rhoswyn would. Vastly uncertain, she didn’t want to be dressed any more – or any less – than he was. When he was down to his thin linen tunic and breeches, she was, too. But then he pulled the tunic off and she could see his broadly-muscled back.

  He was nude from the waist up.

  The mere sight made her heart beat strangely. Illuminated by the firelight, she could see his muscles rippling as he moved. She’d seen the flesh of men before, but not like this. Never like this. It seemed to affect her breathing and her cheeks grew hot. Fearful she was about to embarrass herself greatly, she turned away just as Troy stood up and went to the other side of the bed, pulling back the makeshift coverlet.

  “I cannot promise it is comfortable, but it is better than sleeping on the ground,” he said. But then he noticed that she was simply nodding, her back turned to him, and he knew why. He remembered a nervous bride eighteen years ago and he had another one now, although under these circumstances, Rhoswyn had every right to be nervous and upset. “My lady, if you are not comfortable doing what must be done tonight, then I will not force you.”

  Rhoswyn was surprised by the offer but terribly grateful. She turned her head slightly, enough so that Troy could see her fine profile in the firelight.

  “I have shamed ye enough today,” she said, so nervous that her voice was trembling. “Ye’ve shown kindness and patience. I would not dishonor ye further by refusin’ tae share yer bed.”

  “No one would know but the two of us. If you do not want to, then we can put it off to a later time when you are more comfortable.”

  He was giving her the option and it meant a great deal. Was the man so truly kind and patient? She’d never known anyone like him. But she honestly couldn’t refuse him what was his right. Everything was so new and uncertain right now but, even so, she’d not lost her sense of duty. She may have hated what the day had brought her, but that didn’t mean she was going to be a coward about it. What was it her father had said? Be worthy of him.

  She was coming to think that she very much wanted to be.

  “Yer suggestion is a kind one, but unnecessary,” she said. “I willna shirk me duty. But… ye’ll have tae tell
me what it is ye want me tae do.”

  Troy realized it was probably difficult for her to say that. He also knew that how he handled this situation would probably affect their entire relationship, forever. He wanted it to be civil, but didn’t want any more than that. Aye, she was beautiful and, with time, she would probably make an acceptable wife. But beyond that, he had no hopes or expectations. He’d had love, once, and he didn’t expect it or hope for it again. The love he had was for Helene, and that had not gone away these two years yet it had faded into something warm and comforting. When he thought of her, he remembered the feelings he had for her. He didn’t particularly want to feel those for anyone else, not even a beautiful Scottish warrior woman who had bested him in a fight.

  But that wasn’t something Rhoswyn ever need know.

  Still, Troy knew how to be kind. His mother had seen to that. The sweet and endearing Lady Jordan made sure all of her sons knew how to treat a woman, and Troy was particularly good at it as evidenced by the way he’d handled the situation with Rhoswyn. When he’d seen her fighting and kicking in the hall, bound in ropes by her own men, he knew that he had to be the one to ease her. It couldn’t have come from anyone else. He had to be the more reasonable person at that moment because she was incapable, frightened as she was. So he’d made the effort and now they found themselves in the same bed, on their wedding night.

  All was calm and he intended to keep it that way.

  “I will not tell you,” he said quietly, “but I will show you. Do you trust me?”

  Rhoswyn thought on the question. Did she trust him? Strangely enough, she did. The man had proven himself to be kind and honorable so far, inevitably earning what trust she had to give. But given that he was a Sassenach, inherently, she was wary.

  But that resistance was fading fast.

  “Aye,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I do.”

  “Good,” Troy said. “Now… just relax and let me do what needs to be done. Can you do that?”

  “Aye.”

  “And not resist?”

  She let out a pent-up breath, as if she’d been forgetting to breathe. “Nay… I’ll not.”