Nighthawk: Sons of de Wolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 7)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Would you like to hold her, my lady?” she asked. “Adele is a very good baby. She would be no trouble.”

  Although Brighton hadn’t spent any time around children, she had a strong maternal instinct. She liked to nurture things, both plants and animals, and she was very fond of children as a rule. With a timid smile, she reached out for little Adele.

  “S-she is very beautiful,” she said as Adele slid into her hands. “How old is she?”

  Evelyn’s affectionate gaze was on her daughter. “She will have seen one year in September,” she said. “She is such a happy girl. She has been a joy, unlike my other three, who were holy terrors at this age. The screaming they went through!”

  Katheryn chuckled. “At least you have had two girls to balance out the males in the family,” she said. “I am outnumbered.”

  As the two sisters giggled and chatted about their children, Brighton settled the baby on her lap and cuddled her. She was sweet and soft and warm, grinning her big four-toothed grin. Brighton was very content with the baby in her arms. Adele eventually fell asleep against her. As Brighton sat back against the seat, cradling the sleeping child, she was coming to think that there was nothing so sweet in this world as a child in her arms. Having never experienced such a thing, her first experience was one of joy.

  Something more in this strange new world that pleased her.

  The party bumped along the road for another hour or two, with the men outside the carriage talking, issuing commands, and the children on ponies running about under their father’s supervision. At one point, Brighton caught sight of one of the knights – and it was difficult to tell who it was with all of the armor the man was wearing – with a very small boy on the saddle in front of him. The child was having a marvelous time.

  In all, it had been a relaxed journey in spite of all of the heavily-armed men. Somewhere around the nooning hour, the party came to a halt and the knights moved the carriage and wagons off the road, into a field that had a brook running through it. The children were released from their ponies and from the wagon, as were the dogs, and soon there was a gaggle of children running around, screaming and laughing, playing in the warm weather. Dogs barked and chased the children as the adults brought forth food for the nooning meal.

  Brighton climbed from the carriage, helped out by one of the knights she remembered from the night before, the one who had been at Patrick’s command when he’d carried her away from the fighting. She didn’t know his name but he looked rather like Katheryn’s husband with big shoulders and green eyes. Since she didn’t know him and he made her rather nervous, she quickly walked away from the carriage, moving clear of the commotion between the ladies and the children and the dogs. She’d handed the baby back over to Evelyn long ago and, now with her arms free, she looked around at their surroundings as she rubbed at her arms, somewhat numb from having held them in the same position for so long.

  A light breeze blew through the trees, fluttering the grass, and no one seemed to pay her much attention as she stood there. The men-at-arms on horseback had spread out, undoubtedly to watch for any threats to the party, and the knights seemed to be lingering with the women and children. The knight who had helped her from the carriage was now on the ground with two small boys jumping on him, while off to the left, Katheryn was in the embrace of her tall, red-haired husband. It was a delightful family scene, to tell the truth, and Brighton could tell that these people were all quite close to one another. There seemed to be a good deal of love and camaraderie going on, something she found very sweet.

  In truth, it wasn’t something she had seen much of in her life, this kind of love and camaraderie. The nuns of Coldingham could be rather severe and harsh, at times. There wasn’t a good deal of affection at the priory. Even Sister Acha had been a strict woman, not given to fits of emotion, so Brighton was rather awed by the sight of people who were open with their affection.

  She was also saddened by it.

  Saddened in that she had never known such tenderness. She found herself wondering what it would be like to be embraced the way Katheryn’s husband was embracing her, or hugged the way that Evelyn hugged her children. Such sweetness to it all, something she’d been denied her entire life. She began to feel a longing in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t begin to describe, a longing to be shown affection and treated tenderly. She hadn’t really known what she was missing until now. And now that she realized how much more there was to life, she felt both confused and deprived.

  Soon enough, she couldn’t watch the tender scene any longer. It hurt her heart to witness such care and love, and she had no idea why. Swiftly, she turned for the nearby brook as it disappeared into a copse of trees. Trudging through the long grass with her skirts held up, she disappeared into the trees as well.

  Anything to be free of witnessing things she would never know.

  It was cool in the trees as the sunlight filtered in overhead, birds singing in the branches. Lost in thought, Brighton wandered deeper into the grove. Alone in the trees, the urge to flee washed over her again but she fought it. She’s already decided against it. She was, therefore, a woman without a home, without a family, and without any place to go.

  She was lost.

  Feelings of depression swept her. It was difficult not to feel sorry for herself. Her hands brushed the traveling dress she was wearing and she looked down at it, thinking on the English who had given it to her. It was lovely to have people be so kind to her but it couldn’t go on like that forever. At some point, she would have to settle somewhere and find a life of her own, which wouldn’t include Katheryn and Evelyn and their charming children. It wouldn’t even include Patrick, the big knight who made her heart flutter strangely. She didn’t like feeling that her future was nothing but fog, unable to see through it yet knowing something was there just the same.

  It was the unknown she feared.

  “Lady Brighton?”

  A soft, deep voice startled her and she turned to see Patrick coming through the foliage. She took a step back, away from him, intimidated by the sight of him. Even after their calm conversation last night, she still wasn’t completely comfortable in his presence.

  “I-I… I just needed a moment of privacy, my lord,” she said, her stammer strong because she had been startled. “I should have told you, I suppose. I am sorry.”

  Patrick shook his head. “You need not apologize,” he said. “If anyone should apologize, it should be me for invading your quiet moment. I came to make sure you were well. My sisters were concerned.”

  Brighton smiled faintly. “I-I am well,” she said. “They worry over me as if I am one of their children.”

  Patrick gave her a lopsided grin, the dimples running deep. “They are very motherly,” he agreed. “You’ll not escape that, no matter if you are a grown woman. They will still be concerned for you.”

  He said it somewhat humorously and she dared to smile in return. “I-it is very kind of them,” she said. “I do not mind. They were quite motherly this morning as they helped me to dress.”

  She looked down at herself which made Patrick look down at her as well. He’d spent the entire morning thinking of her even though he couldn’t see her, tucked back in the carriage with his sisters as she had been. But the vision of her before she’d entered the carriage back at Berwick stuck with him.

  Dressed in a deep blue wool that clung indecently to her figure, he’d been struck by her womanly curves just as the other knights had been. Alec and Hector, the married men, pretended not to notice but the unmarried men, Kevin and Apollo, noticed without trying to seem as if they weren’t. That had infuriated Patrick, who had sent the young knights to ride point at the head of the column, far up ahead of the lady they’d briefly lusted after.

  Not that he’d blamed them for their reaction, but he wanted their minds on their duties and not on the lovely young woman in the carriage. At least, that’s what Patrick told himself. The truth was that he wanted to be the only one
thinking about her. The curvy figure encased in dark blue and her beautiful brown hair plaited in an elaborate braid was something for his eyes alone.

  He was sworn to protect her, after all. In some odd way, that meant she belonged to him.

  … didn’t she?

  But she had been saying something to him just now, hadn’t she? Something about his sisters smothering her…? He realized that he hadn’t really heard her and, again, not wanting to embarrass himself by asking her to repeat what she’d said, he pulled on the few words he’d managed to hear in order to concoct an answer. But he was coming to think that the woman could suck every thought from his head without even trying, for she’d done it before with him.

  He looked at her and his mind seemed to go to mush.

  “My sisters try their best to be helpful,” he said belatedly. “They have been my chatelaines at Berwick for a few years and I find them indispensable.”

  Brighton couldn’t help but noticed he seemed detached. It had taken him forever to answer her even though he was looking right at her. She was coming to think that he didn’t have much interest in what she had to say, which embarrassed her greatly. Clearing her throat softly, she put her head down and gathered her skirts, preparing to move past him.

  “A-again, my apologies for wandering away,” she said. “I will return with you now if that is your wish.”

  He reached out, a massive hand grasping her arm before she could walk away. “That is not why I came,” he said. Then, he lifted his other hand, which she hadn’t really noticed because it had been partially concealed behind his back. He had a bundle in it, a kerchief that was wrapped around some items. “My sisters said you’d not eaten so I brought you some food. Would you sit and eat now? We only have a few minutes before we must continue on our way.”

  The food bundle in his hand enticed her, for she was hungry. She nodded her head, watching him as he moved to a big rock next to the creek. He set the bundle down and untied it, revealing a good deal of food within. He smiled weakly.

  “If you please, my lady?” he said, pointing to the feast.

  Hesitantly, Brighton made her way to the rock and sank to her knees beside it. Beneath the cool shade of the trees, she timidly picked up a piece of hard white cheese, biting into it. It was very good. Quite famished, she collected a piece of bread as well. Mouth full, she looked up at Patrick.

  “I-I will gladly share if you’ve not eaten, my lord,” she said.

  Patrick had been waiting for the invitation because he’d brought enough food for two people. It had been rather clever of him, he thought. Casually, he planted his big body on the edge of the rock, taking a piece of cold beef and popping it into his mouth. All the while, he kept eyeing Brighton as she ate ravenously.

  “How has your journey been so far?” he asked, simply to make conversation.

  She nodded her head, swallowing the bite in her mouth. “P-pleasant,” she said. “I held the baby for some of the journey. She is very sweet.”

  “Adele?” he said. “Aye, she is. She is adorable and looks just like her father, much to my own father’s displeasure. He had hoped she would look like a de Wolfe.”

  Brighton put more cheese in her mouth. “I-I am coming to understand that everyone in your command is related,” she said. “It has not been explained to me, but I see there are relations around you, at least with your sisters. Do you have more?”

  He nodded. “I have a rather large family,” he said. “In addition to Katheryn and Evelyn, who are with me at Berwick, I have five brothers and another little sister who are not. You see, it all started many years ago when my father married my mother. I have already told you she is from Clan Scott. My mother came with two cousins who married two of my father’s knights. Aunt Jemma married Uncle Kieran and Aunt Caladora married Uncle Paris. When those three couples had children, they all ended up marrying each other, so Katheryn and Evelyn are married to a son of Jemma and Kieran, and Paris and Caladora, respectively. Our three families are deeply intertwined.”

  Brighton was listening with interest. “I-I see,” she said. “Do you have a wife I’ve not met, then?”

  He shook his head. “Nay,” he replied, giving her a rather embarrassed grin. “Oh, it was not for lack of trying on Uncle Paris and Uncle Kieran’s part. They had a daughter or two they tried to saddle me with… I mean, marry me to… but I felt strongly that there was much I want to accomplish in life and it would be difficult for a wife to have a husband with great ambitions. I could not condemn her to such a life.”

  Brighton chewed on a small green apple. “D-do you mean this appointment for Henry, the one you spoke of last night?”

  “Aye.”

  “W-what will your duties be for the king?”

  Patrick swallowed the food in his mouth, reaching for a piece of cheese. “To simplify the explanation, the king is an elderly man and he has not been well,” he said. “The king has several men who are his personal guard, called the Lord Protectors, and I have been given the honor of being the captain of that group. I am to leave for London in a fortnight to assume my post by September.”

  Brighton was vastly impressed. But she realized that she was also somewhat disappointed. She wasn’t sure why, but she was. Perhaps it had something to do with him leaving in a couple of weeks and her never seeing him again. Other than the priests, Patrick was the only man she had truly had any contact with outside of the walls of Coldingham. Hated English or not, they had established a strange bond. Right now, they were having a lovely conversation, something she’d never done before, at least not like this.

  Never before with a man who made her heart flutter strangely….

  “Y-your family must be very proud,” she finally said. “I am sure you will be very successful.”

  He shrugged. “A position like this is very powerful and highly coveted,” he said. Then, he lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

  She nodded, curious, indeed. “I-I can.”

  “Not even if a thousand reivers sudden charge these trees and try to beat it out of you?”

  She grinned at his jest. “N-not even then, I promise.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow to emphasize how serious this was. “Only my father knows this, my lady,” he said. “If my mother found out you knew before she did, she would beat the both of us.”

  Brighton held up a hand as if to take her oath. “I-I swear it will never leave my lips, ever.”

  He nodded firmly. “I believe you,” he said. “Then I shall tell you. Along with my appointment to the Lord Protectors, I have been bequeathed lands and title to go with it. Once I assume my post, Penton Castle will become mine as well as the title Lord Westdale. Henry offered me larger properties to the south, but my heart and my family are here in the north. Penton Castle guards a major road from Scotland that leads into Carlisle. It is a very big place, built upon the ruins of a Roman fort, and it has seen more than its share of action from the Scots.”

  Brighton was duly impressed. “W-who is there now? I mean, whose army?”

  “Henry’s.”

  It all seemed quite prestigious to her. “T-then I will congratulate you,” she said sincerely. “You are to become quite important.”

  He shrugged, a cross between a modest and an arrogant gesture. “Lands and title will thrust me into the heart of London’s politics, but I am confident I shall execute my duties flawlessly,” he said. “Truthfully, I have no idea when I will actually see my property, as I will probably be in London for a very long time. Edward, the king’s son, has given me as much freedom as I need to protect the king and control who has access to him. I think it will be a very interesting position, at any rate. Not many men will go against the word of the Nighthawk.”

  Brighton cocked her head curiously. “N-Nighthawk?”

  He nodded, swallowing his cheese and then picking up a small apple. “My father is known as the Wolfe of the Border,” he said, taking up most of the apple in one bite. “He is also Warden of the N
orthern Borders. Have you never heard of him? Well, you will if you spend any time in the north. Because they call him The Wolfe, I have earned the name of Nighthawk for my prowess in battle. I am the only one of my brothers to have earned such a moniker.”

  Brighton rather liked that name. “N-Nighthawk,” she repeated. “They are great hunters.”

  “As am I.”

  She grinned at his boastful statement. “I-I would believe that,” she said. “You had no difficultly hunting down the reivers last night.”

  He tossed the apple core aside. “That was nothing,” he said. “They left an easy trail to follow.”

  Her smile faded as thoughts of Sister Acha returned and the terrible cost of the skirmish the night before. Averting her gaze from Patrick, she reached for another apple. “I-I suppose that you could easily track me as well even if I tried to flee for home, then.”

  He regarded her a moment. “I could. Do you intend to run? I thought we had settled that last night.”

  She put the apple in her hand down, brushing her hands off on her skirt. “I-I will be honest with you, my lord,” she said. “I still had thoughts of running for home this morning, even after our conversation last night. Coldingham is all I know, you see, and for me to simply forget about it so easily… I cannot do that. When I wandered into these trees just now, I even thought it would be very easy to slip away but I remembered what you said last night about my being selfish. If I run to Coldingham, and if men are truly after me, then trouble will follow. I do not wish to bring trouble to my home.”

  He watched her as she stood up gracefully. “That is wise.”