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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Jemma shrugged and drank deeply from her cup before setting it down and pulling Kevin out onto the floor. Kevin, so much in looks and manner as Kieran had been at that age, gladly took his mother for a dance. He wouldn’t even look at Penelope as he moved past her; he couldn’t. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and as Penelope watched him dance with his mother, she knew why. She felt a great deal of sorrow in her heart because of it. It would seem all of them were growing up one way or the other, being forced to deal with situations that made them unhappy or uncomfortable. She knew she would sorely miss Kevin in the coming years and she genuinely wished him happiness. Her gaze lingered on Kevin a moment before returning to her mother.

  “We are going to retire for the evening, Mamma,” she said. “I wanted to bid you a good eve before I went.”

  Jordan’s face washed with a gentle expression; it would be such a momentous night for her daughter and her heart naturally ached for her. It was a bittersweet moment. Forcing a smile, she grasped her daughter’s cheeks again and kissed her by the ear.

  “Be patient and kind,” she whispered. “Obey yer husband in all things, lass. I can tell ye no more except I love ye.”

  Penelope could feel the sting of tears as her mother released her and turned to Bhrodi. The man accepted a kiss on the cheek from Lady de Wolfe also, as he was developing a genuine fondness for the woman who had virtually taken over his keep. More than that, she had helped him straighten out some things in his own life desperately in need of straightening. Sian’s clean chamber was one of them. From yesterday to today, everything was in order and he’d never seen the place run more smoothly. Lady Jordan and the women she had hired had the household running as well as any he had ever seen. This feast was a direct result of that efficiency and he was grateful. Now, all he had to worry over was his new wife and, at the moment, she was clearly occupying all of his attention.

  “My thanks to you, Lady de Wolfe,” he said. “Your visit to Rhydilian has been an agreeable one.”

  Jordan smiled. “I am pleased,” she said, her gaze moving between the pair. “We will see ye both on the morrow whereupon me husband will pay the balance of the dowry. I am sure he has discussed all of this with ye already.”

  Bhrodi’s gaze lingered on the woman. “He has,” he replied. “The majority of the gifts were presented after the ceremony today and I do believe there is very little left.”

  “But there is some left.”

  “Has he actually discussed this with you?”

  Jordan’s brow furrowed. “Of course he has,” she said. “Who do ye think gave him the terms of the marriage before he went tae negotiate with ye?”

  Bhrodi cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head with mild disbelief. “I am certainly not surprised,” he said. “You are a formidable woman, Lady de Wolfe.”

  Jordan was back to grinning. “So is me daughter,” she said, touching Penelope’s cheek affectionately. “Ye will find that out for yerself. Go, now; sleep well and we shall see ye on the morrow.”

  Bhrodi didn’t have to be told twice. He’d just been given permission to be alone with his new wife and he intended to do it, and do it fast before something else prevented them from leaving the hall. He knew Penelope was reluctant but he wouldn’t acknowledge it, nor would he give in to it. She was his now and he intended to do with her just as he pleased. He moved to take Penelope’s elbow to lead her out of the hall but she balked.

  “I want to bid my father a good evening,” she told him.

  Jordan interrupted. “I will tell him for ye,” she said. “Ye and yer husband retire for the night. It is been a very big day for ye both.”

  “But….”

  “Go now, lass.”

  It wasn’t a request; it was a command. Penelope reached out to grasp her mother’s hand, one last effort to stay with her, terrified to let her go. This was such a pivotal moment in her life and she found that she wasn’t at all as prepared for it as she would have liked to have been. She wanted to be back in England in simpler times, not in Wales set to embark on a new life. All of this flashed through her mind and it was a struggle to push it away.

  “You and Papa will not leave tomorrow until I have had the chance to say my farewells to you?” she asked.

  Jordan patted her hand and removed it from her arm. “Of course not,” she assured her daughter. “Go with yer husband, now. Sleep well.”

  Penelope nodded with a mixture of sadness and forced courage. She was trying hard to be brave. With a lingering glance at her mother, and a meaningful one, she let Bhrodi lead her out of the hall to a chorus of well-wishes. The newly married couple was retiring for the evening and everyone seemed to have advice, bawdy or otherwise.

  Ivor, Ianto, Gwyllim and Yestin, who had been huddled at a table with several local chieftains, began to follow the couple from the hall but Bhrodi called them off with a balled fist. They received the message loud and clear, backing off as their lord and his new wife retired for the evening.

  Thrilled that they were nearly clear of the hall, Bhrodi couldn’t help but notice that his uncle’s wardrobe, the one the old man slept and lived in, was chained shut. He also couldn’t help but notice that the door was rattling steadily. He wasn’t sure who had chained the doors but whoever it was had more than likely done the right thing. He had no idea what would have happened had his mad uncle been allowed to follow his usual routine this night. At the moment, he didn’t want to have to worry about it.

  Unfortunately, Penelope noticed the rattling wardrobe just as they were about to quit the hall completely. She even pointed at it.

  “What is happening there?” she asked him. “Is someone locked up in the wardrobe?”

  Rather than explain everything, Bhrodi continued walking and took her right past it. “Something like that,” he said vaguely. “We can discuss it on the morrow.”

  Penelope looked at him queerly but he simply smiled. Now they were in the darkened foyer with two big torches burning hot and sooty in iron wall sconces. There were at least six of Bhrodi’s men guarding the door and even more outside that she could hear but couldn’t see. All of the men were wearing red tunics that were simple and unadorned, and as the couple quit the great hall and headed towards the keep, led through the night by a soldier with a brightly burning torch, Penelope turned to Bhrodi.

  “I have noticed that your soldiers do not wear armor, not even mail,” she said. “Even those men at the door do not wear it. What happens if they must engage in a fight in order to protect the door? Would it not be to their advantage to wear mail?”

  Bhrodi was helping her with the train of her gown, collecting it in his arms as they crossed the bailey so it would not become soiled. “Nay,” he said. “Those men are my teulu and they do not wear armor. It is not their way.”

  Penelope cocked her head curiously. “Teulu?”

  He nodded. “My personal guard,” he said. “Most Welshmen of rank have them, although some have more than others.”

  “Why do they not wear armor?”

  They had reached the entry to the keep and took the stairs up to the second floor entry. “Because the teulu must move swiftly and they cannot do that with armor,” he said. “There are many things about the Welsh that you will come to learn, but I will be honest when I say that I do not wish to speak of such things on my wedding night.”

  He was grinning, which made her grin in return. “Why not?” she demanded, though it was lightly done. “If I am to be the wife of a great Welsh warlord, then I must know everything.”

  He shook his head at her, laughing softly, as they mounted the narrow spiral steps to the third level. The master’s chamber was immediately to the left when they reached the landing and Bhrodi lifted the latch.

  “You shall know everything,” he said, “but can we have at least one night when I am not teaching you the ways of my people? Mayhap there are a few other things I should like to discuss.”

  “Like what?”

  He threw open the door
for her. “Like getting to know my new wife. I have one, you know. I hardly know her.”

  Penelope opened her mouth to reply but was cut short when her gaze fell on the master’s chamber. Startled by the scene spread out before her, she looked around the room with some awe.

  The room was aglow with dozens of tallow tapers, bathing the room in golden light. A fire burned brightly in the hearth, offering warmth, and the floor was covered with sheep hides. It looked like a sea of cream-colored fluff. There were two big chairs near the hearth with a table between them and upon the table sat a fine pitcher made from cut rose quartz and two matching cups. Fruit and cheese and bread was spread out over the table, creating a fine place to sit and talk and eat before retiring.

  “I gave your aunt free reign in the chamber,” Bhrodi said, watching her face as she inspected the room. “I told her to make it warm and wonderful. Did she accomplish that?”

  Penelope grinned as she took a few steps into the room, noting the giant bed. It had a massive canopy with curtains around it and the bed itself was covered in hides and linens. It was very inviting.

  “She did,” she responded. “I am surprised she is not in here still, making sure our every need is fulfilled.”

  Bhrodi began to loosen his tunic; he was dressed in his finest, mail and leather breeches and the traditional red and silver ap Gaerwen standard.

  “You come from a family of aggressive women,” he commented as he pulled the tunic over his head. “They certainly saw no issue with taking over my keep and household.”

  Penelope turned to look at him as he lay the tunic over a chair. “You could have told them not to.”

  He looked at her as if shocked by the suggestion. “And risk their wrath?” he shook his head. “My one consolation is that they will be leaving on the morrow and all will return to normal.”

  Penelope giggled. “Except that you now have a new wife,” she said. “And if you think my mother will stay away indefinitely, think again. She will come back to visit us every year, I promise.”

  Bhrodi was grinning because she was. “God help us.”

  “Do you not like my mother?”

  “She is a fine woman.”

  Penelope saw the humor in his statement. “You have to say that now,” she said. “If you say one bad word about her, I shall run and tell her.”

  He was still grinning as he sat in one of the chairs. “I will never say anything negative about her, I swear,” he replied. “At least, not to you.”

  Penelope’s smile held as her gaze lingered on him; he had looked particularly handsome today with his shaved face and freshly cut hair. He even smelled good, like pine and rosemary. Standing next to the man as they said their vows had made her heart race. Every time she looked at him, her breathing seemed to quicken.

  Aye, he was a handsome man and her unfamiliar reaction to him was both confusing and exciting. No man she had ever met had elicited such a reaction from her, something giddy and warm. She hardly knew him and had hardly spent time with him but already he was able to make her feel like a silly young girl simply with his presence. She thought that it was a good thing and bespoke of the natural attraction between them. Holding up her train, she went to take a seat in the chair opposite him.

  For a moment, they simply looked at each other. The fire was casting a good deal of warmth into the room, making everything seem rather seductive and liquid. It was an odd and fluid sensation and one that made Penelope’s heart race just a little more. Those invisible fingers that came from Bhrodi’s eyes had her within their grasp and this time, she gave in to the sensation. It was difficult to resist.

  “Now,” she said softly. “You wanted to come to know me better. What is it you wish to know?”

  He laughed softly and her heart leapt at the sight of his magnificent smile; she was coming to appreciate it very much.

  “I am not entirely sure where to start,” he said. “I believe our last conversation involved bloodlines, how many children we are to have, and the significance of our marriage and how it relates to the English crown. I suppose what I would really like to know is more about you, personally.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He cocked his head thoughtfully. “Well,” he began, “what do you like to do? Do you like to sing? Or play an instrument?”

  Penelope burst out laughing. “Never in my life have I done those things,” she declared. “I like to hunt and I like to ride. Whenever my father purchases new chargers, I have the honor of riding them first and training them. I am very good at training horses.”

  Bhrodi wasn’t surprised; his expression said as much. “So my new wife likes to hunt and fight,” he said. “I knew from the onset that you chose, shall we say, male activities, but I thought that you might have feminine pursuits, also.”

  Penelope shook her head. “Not one,” she said. “I have never liked anything that girls did. I always wanted to do what the boys did because it seemed much more fun. How much enjoyment can you get out of sticking a needle into cloth hour after hour? I would be so bored I would want to scream. It is much better to handle a skittish horse or take down a wild boar. I am excellent with a bow and arrow.”

  As Bhrodi listened to her, more prevalent thoughts came to mind. He tried to be careful in the way he communicated them, as he did not wish to offend her.

  “I am sure you are,” he said. “But I should like my wife to have some feminine accomplishments. Would that be so difficult?”

  Penelope looked at him dubiously. “Like what?”

  “Like… like the ability to adequately run a household. Do you not have skills such as that?”

  Penelope was coming to suspect he wasn’t thrilled with her male-associated skills. Your husband wants a wife, not another knight, her mother had said. Perhaps the woman had been more than correct in that statement because her new husband seemed to reflect the same sentiment. The smile faded from Penelope’s face as she sat back and crossed her arms.

  “I have been educated in mathematics, languages, and history,” she said. “While growing up, I schooled with the young squires in such things. I understand the basic premise of running a household but I would be bored to death doing it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I am a kn-,” she cut herself off, suspecting that wasn’t the answer he wanted. After a moment, she hung her head and sighed heavily. “I realize that I am now Lady de Shera and there are certain expectations that go with that. However, you must understand that my entire life up until the last few months have revolved around my duties for my father. Never once did I have household duties. But if that is what you want from me, I… I suppose I will have to learn.”

  Bhrodi was watching her face carefully, seeing the sadness and resignation in it. “What do you want to do?”

  Penelope’s head came up and she cast him a side-long gaze. “I am afraid I will not give you the answers you seek.”

  “I am not expecting any particular answer. I am asking you an honest question. Will you give me an honest reply?”

  Penelope thought seriously on the question. “I told you once that I never saw myself marrying,” she said. “I thought my life would be filled with service to my father and nothing more. I suppose it would be too much to ask to serve my husband as a knight, would it?”

  Bhrodi cleared his throat softly as he pondered his answer. “Wives do not usually serve their husbands on the field of battle,” he said. “When I look at you, I see such a gloriously beautiful creature. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you. It would make me enormously proud to have a wife who could efficiently run my household and tend my children. I would be the envy of every man in Wales to have such a beautiful and talented wife.”

  Somehow, Penelope knew that would be his answer and she hung her head again. “You would be ashamed to have one who could fight with a broadsword and ride headlong into battle, then.”

  He shook his head. “Nay,” he murmured. “I would be proud of those qualities, t
oo, but you will admit that most men would not understand such a thing. I do not want to see you ridiculed and I do not want to be ridiculed. I am sure you must understand that. Men in Wales are different from the Saesneg… they are defined by the women they marry in many ways, and also by the character of those women. I will be judged by your actions.”

  Her head came up, the hazel eyes narrowing. “And you do not wish for me to embarrass you?”

  “As an ap Gaerwen and a de Shera, I have a reputation to uphold.”

  It was an arrogant statement and she wasn’t surprised by it. Bhrodi was a very prideful man, although he was also one of great understanding. Still, she wanted to argue the point; God’s Blood, she wanted to very much, but she knew in her heart that she could not. Her mother had told her to be a wife and not a knight. Penelope knew that times were changing for her; it was time for her to outgrow the knighthood and become a woman. It was so very sad for her to realize that.

  “As you wish,” she muttered.

  Bhrodi could see how sorrowful she was. He couldn’t honestly believe that she would have expected him to let her continue in her knightly ways, but evidently she had hoped for it. Leaning forward, he uncapped the cut quartz pitcher and poured her a measure of the rich red wine inside.

  “You are now the Lady Penelope de Wolfe ap Gaerwen de Shera, hereditary Queen of Anglesey, Lady of Ynes Mon, and Countess of Coventry,” he said softly. “Have you ever heard of a queen riding to battle?”

  Penelope knew he was trying to comfort her in his own way. It was a kind thing to do when he really didn’t have to. She accepted the cup.

  “Papa told me once of an ancient queen named Boudicca that led her troops to battle,” she said.

  Bhrodi made a face. “She was a barbarian,” he sniffed. “Her chariot was pulled by slaves and she drank the blood of her enemies. Surely you do not wish to be compared to that dirty witch.”