DarkWolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Patrick cocked a dark eyebrow. “Troy has already been forced to submit to her twice – once in battle and once for the marriage offer. Now he will not even be able to dominate her in the bedchamber?”

  Apollo gave him a rather lascivious expression but Patrick couldn’t agree with him, nor could James. In fact, James sighed heavily as he finished dragging the mattress against the wall next to the hearth.

  “If I thought I could get away with it, I would help him to escape,” he said. “But Papa would have my head. ’Tis too bad that we cannot swap Troy out for another groom. Mayhap one of the soldiers. Do you think Red Keith would notice?”

  Patrick grinned in spite of himself. “I think Red Keith had his eye on Troy the moment the man engaged his daughter. In hindsight, it could have been his plan all along. Did he truly plan on letting his daughter go to battle against a de Wolfe knight? I cannot imagine he truly believed she could win.”

  James looked at his handiwork on the bed. It wasn’t wonderful, but it was all he could do. “I did not get a good look at her,” he said, “but she moved with confidence. She certainly attacked Troy with confidence. She knew if she did not take the man down at the very first, the battle would be over. That speaks of a cunning woman.”

  “Or a ruthless one.”

  James moved away from the bed, heading over to the fire that Patrick was blowing to life. “God help him,” he muttered. “I hope he does not kill her before the night is out. That will bring the Kerr in droves to the border and we will not be able to stop them.”

  “He knows that,” Patrick muttered.

  “Does he?”

  Patrick stood up from the hearth, wiping his hands off on his breeches. “I am sure Papa is having that conversation with him even now.”

  James looked at his brother, wondering if, indeed, their father was having such a conversation with Troy at the moment. For certain, the last time they saw Troy, the man was fit to be tied. Rage didn’t quite cover it. As James and Patrick debated on the mood between their brother and their father at the moment, Apollo came away from the wardrobe.

  “Mayhap we had better go to the hall and see if we can be of service,” he said. “If not to tie Troy up so he can’t run away, to at least keep the peace. If Troy becomes angry enough, there is no telling what he might do.”

  Patrick simply stood there, gazing into his fledgling fire. “He has been known to destroy things when he is angry,” he said quietly. “He is a man who allows his emotions to feed his strength. In fact, the first battle we faced after the death of Helene and Athena, I clearly remember Troy ripping a man’s head clean from his body. You were there, James. You saw it.”

  James had. He thought back to that terrible skirmish about a month after the tragic deaths, a battle that had been a big misunderstanding. A lass from Clan Hume had run off with an English soldier and The Hume had believed Wark Castle to be the destination. James, in command of Wark, knew nothing of the lass or of the disappearance, but found himself in a very nasty fight with a band of rabid Scotsmen.

  Berwick, Northwood, and Questing had ridden to their aid, including Troy, but he hadn’t been ready for that battle. Every pain, every anguish he’d been feeling since his wife’s death had manifested itself in brute strength and barbaric actions. As far as the others knew, he’d never used his sword once in that battle. Everything he did, he’d done with his bare hands, and it had been a bloodbath. That was the capability of Troy’s anger and they all knew it.

  It wasn’t something they wanted to see again.

  “I did, indeed, see it,” James said after a moment’s reflection. “But that was a different time, Atty. Helene had just died and he’d not yet come to grips with it.”

  Patrick was still staring into the fire, watching the flames lick against the old wood. Thoughts of Troy, of that day, and of Helene filled his brain. There was a long pause before he spoke again.

  “It was my fault, you know,” he whispered. “All of this is my fault.”

  James knew what he meant. He sighed heavily. “Atty, nay…”

  “They were coming to see my son,” Patrick insisted. “Had they not been coming to Berwick, none…”

  James cut him off, slapping a gentle hand on Patrick’s chest to get his attention, to pull him away from a guilt that had consumed him since that day. He rarely spoke of it, but the family knew his feelings. He had been tortured since that day, no matter what anyone said to him. Even Troy had spoken to him about it but a brother’s absolution hadn’t alleviated that guilt.

  That burden had been Patrick’s alone to bear.

  “It was not your fault,” he said firmly. “Troy has never blamed you. It was a tragic accident and nothing more.”

  Patrick’s jaw ticked faintly. “Mayhap,” he said. “But I cannot tear myself away from that guilt. I feel as if all of this… I am responsible for it. I am responsible for Troy’s pain and Scott’s departure.”

  “That is not true.”

  “Because of me, our family is fractured. True or not, that is the guilt I live with. The evidence is there.”

  James patted him on the chest. “I cannot say that I would not feel the same way from your perspective but, someday, you must come to terms with the fact that you did nothing to cause any of this,” he said. “Things like this… they happen, Atty. Women die and men die. It is the way of life. But I would like to think that in the grand scheme of things, a death serves a higher purpose. Mayhap we do not understand what the purpose is when it happens but, in time, we will see the light. We will see that everything in life happens as it should.”

  Patrick looked at his brother; James was two years younger than he was, a fine and noble man with a good heart. When the entire world was upended, James could always be looked upon for comfort and calm guidance. He had their mother’s gentleness and her uncanny wisdom. That was simply his gift.

  “And you think Helene’s death has a higher purpose to Troy?” Patrick asked. “I am sure he does not see that.”

  James nodded. “Mayhap not now but, in time, he will,” he said with quiet resolve. “Mayhap he was meant to marry the Scots lass to forge a larger bond with the Scots. Mayhap their son will be the greatest knight who has ever lived, a man who brings peace to the borders. Who knows? Only time will tell. I only hope I am around to see it.”

  Patrick smiled weakly. “You will be,” he said. “And then remind me of this conversation when we are old. Let us look back on lives well-lived and see if everything really does happen for a reason.”

  James smiled in return. “I can promise you that it does,” he said. Then, he looked around the chamber, seeing the pitifulness of it. It certainly didn’t look like the chamber of a newly married couple, but that couldn’t be helped. His smile faded. “But for now, I do not suppose there is anything more we can do here. Let us take Apollo’s suggestion and retreat to the hall.”

  With great reluctance, the three of them headed back down to the hall where the future of Troy de Wolfe – and an alliance with Clan Kerr – were being forged in blood.

  Troy’s…

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I will not do it.”

  William had been listening to those same five words since Troy’s humiliating defeat that morning. It was nearing sunset as he and Paris and Kieran tried to ply Troy with enough wine to make the man more malleable and receptive to the idea that he was to have a new wife. Not just any wife; the woman who had defeated him in full view of his men.

  A woman who had humiliated him.

  Perhaps that was part of the problem. Troy was being forced to marry a woman who, for a split-second in battle, had been smarter than him. The shame of it was more than he could bear. In fact, the shame was so bad that Patrick sent his army back to Berwick without him, instead choosing to remain behind to comfort his embarrassed brother. James, too, had sent the bulk of his men back to Wark while he, too, remained at Troy’s side.

  The brothers were sympathetic; perhaps too sympathetic. Th
at was why William had sent them away to prepare a bedchamber for the soon-to-be-married couple. He didn’t want Troy feeding off of the sympathy from Patrick and James, so it was important that he separate the brothers. William had made a bargain and Troy was expected to fulfill it, no matter how supportive Patrick and James were.

  “Troy, I understand your reluctance, but we have been over this,” William said patiently. “The terms of your defeat were set forth and marriage was the term. You were specifically requested. It is important to the peace of this entire stretch of border and you will comply, like it or not.”

  In a corner of the big great hall, Troy was literally backed against the stone. He sat with his back to the corner while his father and brothers tried to talk sense into him. At the table behind them sat Paris and Kieran and Michael and the rest of them, because no one was leaving while Troy was in such turmoil. More than that, they wanted to witness the wedding to the warrior lady who had kneed Troy in the groin and then pushed him to the ground. There was great morbid curiosity in their presence.

  Troy knew that. He, too, would have had some morbid curiosity about the situation, if only it wasn’t happening to him. At the moment, he was beside himself with frustration and angst. He didn’t want to marry and he certainly didn’t want to marry a woman who had humiliated him in front of his men. But his father had made the bargain and he couldn’t refuse.

  And he hated the very thought of it.

  As Troy raged and the English formed a sympathetic cushion around him, Audric had been watching the entire happenstance with great interest. He would have quite a tale to tell when he returned to Jedburgh; Red Keith Kerr had come forth to confront de Wolfe for taking Monteviot and had cleverly had his daughter fight an English knight, the outcome of which would decide the fate of Monteviot.

  But it wasn’t Monteviot that Keith had been interested in; it had been an alliance and a marriage for his daughter, who would now marry into inarguably the most powerful English family on the border. It had been a brilliant move by Keith and Audric had to admit that he was impressed. He was also vastly glad to see that the House of de Wolfe would be allied with the Clan Kerr.

  If they could get the bride and groom together long enough to conduct the ceremony.

  William had already asked Audric to remain and perform the mass. The best they could do was have it take place at the entrance to the hall instead of the entrance to the church, but there were over a thousand men still at Monteviot to witness the merger of the two houses. Audric was more than willing to conduct the wedding mass and as the day went on, he waited patiently, drinking and eating anything anyone would put in front of him. As evening fell and William tried to convince his stubborn son that a contract marriage was the right thing to do, there was some commotion over by the hall entry.

  There was a fight going on.

  They could all hear it. Some kind of brawl that even stopped the conversation between Troy and William. In fact, as Troy looked at the hall entry with some curiosity, a Scotsman suddenly hurled through the door as if he’d been punched or kicked. But the man regained his balance quickly and raced outside again, only to reemerge back into the hall carrying the legs of a trussed-up body. Two other men had the head and torso of the body, but the person wrapped in hemp ropes was struggling against them violently. It took Troy, and everyone else, a moment to realize that Rhoswyn Kerr had been brought to her marriage ceremony in bondage.

  Troy’s jaw fell open in shock. As he watched, Rhoswyn bent up her knees, kicked out, and rammed the man who was carrying her feet again. The man faltered but he didn’t let go this time. He held firm. Behind the men carrying her, in came Keith Kerr, instructing his men not to hurt his daughter.

  It was the most astonishing thing Troy had ever seen. He forgot all about his own reluctance as he watched Rhoswyn brought in like a prize. Or a prisoner. In disbelief, he went to stand next to his father as they watched a host of Scots carry in a gagged lady who was wrapped up tightly. She could hardly move, but move she did, and she was still giving them a fight. Troy looked at his father.

  “Are you serious?” he demanded. “This is to be my wife? Are you mad?”

  William had to admit he was rather taken aback by what he saw. If Troy was resistant to this marriage, then the lady was clearly hysterically opposed to it. He was coming to wonder what he’d committed his son to, but he didn’t back away from the bargain. A deal was a deal, and Troy could handle himself even in the face of a wild new wife. But he tried to remain calm, if only for Troy’s sake.

  “Clearly, she is reluctant,” he said, looking at Troy’s reaction to his understatement. “Lad, if she walked in here happy and eager to marry you, then you would know it was a lie. At least this way, you know what you are dealing with.”

  Troy’s mouth was still hanging open as he looked at the Scots with the lady between them, only he caught a glimpse of James and Patrick, Apollo and Paris. As he turned his head, he could see that they were all trying very hard not to burst out into laughter. Paris in particular; the older knight had a twisted sense of humor so he undoubtedly found a reluctant Scottish bride to be humorous. Anything that irked William and his sons was funny to Paris. That infuriated Troy but, in the same breath, the situation was so unbelievably ridiculous that he, too, fought off the urge to laugh.

  He’d never seen anything like it.

  “Papa, you cannot be determined that I should go through with this,” he said. “Would you really saddle me to a wife who is so violently opposed to this union?”

  It was a legitimate question William could no longer deny. His confidence in the matter took a hit when he saw the lady twist so hard that she virtually threw herself from the arms of the men who were carrying her. She hit the hard-packed earth of the hall with a thud and when they tried to pick her back up, she simply squirmed and twisted so they couldn’t get a grip on her. He looked at Keith, several feet away.

  “So you would marry a wild animal to my son?” he asked, sounding quite unhappy. “I did not make a bargain that my son should marry this… this she-devil.”

  Keith met William’s gaze, unsurprised by the man’s reaction. “She is not a wild animal, I assure ye,” he said. “She is smart and compassionate when she wants tae be. But she is unhappy that I have made this bargain for her.”

  “As I am,” Troy said. He was finished being silent about the situation. Pushing past his father, he came to stand over Rhoswyn as she lay, bound and gagged, on the ground. When men tried to pick her up again, he shoved them away, one of them so hard that the man ended up on his arse. Troy crouched down next to Rhoswyn and pulled the gag out of her mouth. “I mirror your reluctance, my lady, and it is unfortunate that our fathers have conspired against us as they have. This is not my doing.”

  With that, he began to untie her, unwinding the bindings that had been all but cutting off her circulation. As the ropes fell away and Rhoswyn sat up, quickly, to pull the bindings free, Troy chased away all of the men that were standing over her, including her father. The Scotsmen didn’t want to move so quickly, but a glare from the big knight sent them falling back.

  “Get back, all of you,” Troy commanded. “Get back before I throw you back.”

  He had the de Wolfe air of command about him, one that men naturally complied with, English or Scots. In fact, it was a sense of command and control that Rhoswyn, pulling the ropes from her ankles, hadn’t heard before. Not even her own father had that same booming presence that all men naturally succumbed to. And that voice…

  She’d never heard anything like it.

  Like steel wrapped in silk, soft on the surface but hard and powerful beneath. She’d heard it at a distance when he’d been speaking angrily to his father earlier in the day, but the quality of it had been lost on her. Now that he was speaking directly to her, chasing men away from her, the rich timbre was evident. Moreover, his innately chivalric move to free her from her fellow Scotsmen had her attention.

  It shouldn’t have;
she shouldn’t have cared in the least. She was ripping the ropes off with every intention of running out of the hall, but something… she didn’t know what… was holding her back. She wasn’t leaping to her feet as fast as she should have been. In fact, she wasn’t moving swiftly at all. She heard the English knight threaten her uncle, who moved to tie up her feet again, and that had her looking at the man like he was the first man she’d ever seen in her entire life.

  That voice had her attention.

  What was his name again? Her father had told her but she couldn’t remember. But she did remember him as the man she’d kneed in the groin and then smashed in the chest with her shield. He was tall, at least a head-and-a-half taller than she was, and he was broader than her by twice. He had shoulders that were impossibly wide.

  But it was his face that had her attention – as she’d noted before, he was darker than the pasty-faced men she’d come to know. He had an olive-skinned quality about him, something she’d seen once when a merchant from a land far away had stopped at Sibbald one night on his way south from Edinburgh. That swarthy man had the same darker quality to his skin that de Wolfe’s son had, but he hadn’t possessed de Wolfe’s eyes – they were probably hazel but they looked gold. And he was handsome… so very handsome. She’d noted that from the first, too, and that hadn’t changed. He was even more handsome when he was pushing men away from her.

  She rather liked it.

  That very foolish reaction to him had her dumbfounded. She was in the process of looking at him with a rather edgy expression on her face when he suddenly began pushing everyone far back from her. It wasn’t just giving her room to breathe; it was moving them several feet away from her. He pushed those who didn’t move fast enough, and suddenly, other English knights were moving in, pushing the Scots out of the way, and abruptly it became a big shoving match that had the older English knights jumping in to break it up before it turned into a brawl.