She sighed, gazing out over the creek, having no idea he was watching her profile as she did. “B-but if you take me to your father, will I not be bringing trouble to him, too?”
Patrick was not only watching her profile, he was watching the curve of her lips again when she spoke. It was mesmerizing. “You will,” he said, “but my father is a great knight. He can handle all of the trouble that the Swinton Clan wants to throw at him. Do not worry about him.”
She turned to him, her sweet face in earnest. “B-but I do,” she said. “If I will bring as much trouble as you say, then there is nowhere I can go that will not bring trouble. I do not wish to cause trouble for those who have been kind to me.”
He was starting not to hear her words again, daydreaming about that angelic face. But he forced himself to listen. He stood up, towering over her.
“I would not worry about that if I were you,” he said. “You are my ward now and as long as you are, no harm will come to you. Do you not believe me?”
She nodded, her heart beginning to pound against her ribs as his powerful form loomed before her. “I-I do,” she said. Then, she paused. “I am calmer now, my lord. Will you please tell me again what Sister Acha told you about my… my lineage? I promise I will not become hysterical. I honestly do not remember everything you told me, only that my real father is a Northman king. I would be grateful if you would tell me, once more, so that I remember all of it.”
Patrick knew they should be heading back to the others now that their meal was over but he couldn’t quite seem to do it. He was rather enjoying talking to her, just the two of them. He didn’t want to disrupt that, at least not until he had to.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
“P-please.”
He sighed faintly. “She told me that your mother is Lady Juliana de la Haye and your father is Magnus Haakonsson, King of the Northmen. Your real name is Kristiana Magnusdotter. But you were given the name of Brighton de Favereux to conceal your identity. Shall I tell you more?”
Brighton nodded shortly, as if she didn’t want to hear it all but knew she had to, and he continued. “Your mother is a daughter of the House of de la Haye and she was given over to the Northmen as a hostage, to cement a peace between the kings of the North and Clan Haye. When she became pregnant, she was sent home in shame. When you were born, your mother was forced to bring you to Coldingham in order to protect you.” He paused, looking her in the eye. “Sister Acha said that no one must know of your existence for it can only bring the Northmen down upon us. Those were her words, exactly.”
Brighton’s features were lined with distress but she was trying very hard to show courage. “Juliana de la Haye,” she murmured. “W-where does the Clan Haye live?”
“Further to the north, I believe,” he said. “Like most Scots along the coast, I am sure they have had their share of encounters with Northmen. Making an alliance with a hostage makes perfect sense.”
Brighton didn’t really know much about alliances. Truthfully, she didn’t know much about anything right now. Her senses, her mind, were very muddled. She was trying to process the information when a shout came from outside of the trees and Patrick shouted in return, a confirmation that they were soon to return to the group. He turned to Brighton.
“We should be departing shortly,” he said, somewhat gently. “Did you have enough to eat? You can take the rest of the food with you in the carriage if you wish.”
She nodded absently, still lost in thought, and he moved to collect the food. She put her hand on his arm before he could move out of her reach. Patrick came to a pause, looking down at that distressed, heavenly face as she turned her attention upward to him.
“D-do you think… do you think your father could write to Mother Prioress and ask her if she knows anything about my true lineage?” she asked hesitantly. “If I could only have her confirmation, mayhap I could find peace with all of this. As I told you last night, I cannot believe that she would not know the truth. If it is too much trouble for your father, I would be happy to write the missive if he would only be kind enough to supply a messenger.”
Patrick could feel her hand on his arm like a searing brand. Such a small hand, a delicate touch, but it was burning a hole through him.
“It will not be too much trouble for him to do that,” he said, wondering if the quivering he felt in his chest at her touch could be heard in his voice. “In fact, I think it is a very good idea. I will suggest it to him.”
Brighton was visibly relieved. “Thank you, my lord. I am very grateful.”
He gave her a brief smile before continuing on his quest to gather their meal. As he wrapped it back up in the kerchief, he spoke.
“You do not need to continue addressing me formally,” he told her. “I do not mind for you to address me as Patrick.”
Brighton looked at him with surprise. “Patrick?”
He nodded, looking up from the bundle of food in his hand. “May I call you Brighton?”
Brighton was rather startled with the request. Pleased, but startled. “O-of course,” she said. “But no one calls me Brighton except Mother Prioress. To everyone else, I am known as Bridey.”
He grinned. “I know,” he said. “Sister Acha addressed you by that name. I had no idea who she was talking about at first. I will also call you Bridey if it does not displease you.”
“I-I would be honored, my – I mean, Patrick.”
He chuckled and reached out to take her elbow, politely escorting her out of the copse of trees and into the green field beyond.
CHAPTER SIX
That Evening
Castle Questing
Near Mindrumill, the Borders
Arriving at Castle Questing had been somewhat surreal.
Against the backdrop of a pale blue sky, the castle sat on the top of a crag, perched like a crouched lion that was waiting to pounce. Built of Torridonian sandstone, the building blocks were pale, almost a cream color that turned golden when sunrise or sunset hit it just right. Locals called it oir caisteal, or the golden castle, for just that reason. It was a magnificent and imposing sight.
Because the castle sat so high, it could literally be seen for miles. The party from Berwick had spotted it several miles out and, as they approached, the sun was setting so that as they were about a half-mile away, the sun hit the stones just right and that golden castle appeared for them all to see. For those who had been born and raised at Questing, it was a welcome sight, indeed.
As the group from Berwick drew closer, a welcome party soon emerged from Questing, moving swiftly along the road that led down the side of the crag and racing for the Berwick group at breakneck speed. Young men on powerful horses met with the incoming party and as Brighton watched with great curiosity. Patrick cuffed one of the young men on the head affectionately. Two other young men on horseback swarmed the other knights and made their way back to the wagon where the children were riding, now bundled up as the sun began to set. In the carriage, the women could hear the children screaming in delight.
“It must be Thomas and Nathaniel,” Katheryn said, sticking her head from the carriage window to see what was going on behind them. “Oh – I see Adonis, too. Wait, Adonis! Put him down! Put Christoph down, I say!”
Evelyn was trying to see as well. “He never listens,” she said unhappily. “Adonis de Norville! Do you hear us? Put Christoph down. And… nay! Do not pick up Hermes! Put him down!”
Brighton had no idea what was going on; all she knew was that the children were laughing and screaming, and their mothers weren’t happy about it. The situation must have resolved itself because Katheryn and Evelyn came back into the cab, a little ruffled but seemingly satisfied, at least for the moment.
“I am going to box his ears when we reach the castle,” Evelyn muttered. Then, she saw the look of concern on Brighton’s face and she smiled sheepishly. “I am sorry, my lady. We are speaking of young uncles who like to take the boys for a ride on their excitable horses. Th
e last thing we need is for someone to fall off and break an arm.”
Truthfully, Brighton thought it was rather amusing the way the children were so thrilled to see their uncles. “W-whom are you speaking of?”
Katheryn answered her. “Thomas de Wolfe, who is our younger brother,” she said with disapproval in her tone. “He is to be knighted in a few years but right now, he is just a troublemaker and a rascal. There is also Nathaniel Hage, my husband’s youngest brother, and Adonis de Norville, who is Hector’s youngest brother. They all serve at Questing and they are naughty young men full of spit and vinegar. They need daily beatings!”
Brighton fought off a grin. “D-do they not get them?”
Katheryn remained stern a moment longer before bursting into soft laughter. “Not nearly enough, although I am sure my mother tries,” she said. “I am so happy you are going to meet our mother. You will like her a great deal.”
Brighton had to admit that she was rather curious to see Castle Questing and meet the occupants. Having spent her entire life sequestered at Coldingham, with a very rare trip to Eyemouth on occasion, two trips to two castles in as many days was a great anomaly for her. It was rather disorienting, but also exciting. She was, therefore, quite curious about the big castle where the mighty Wolfe of the Border lived, the great knight she’d heard Patrick speak of.
The man who would determine her destiny.
With that in mind, she felt more than a little apprehension as the group made its way through the substantial village that was gathered up around the base of the castle and began to make the trek up the hill. Looking from the window of the carriage, she had to crane her neck back to look up the side of the crag to the massive castle on top of it. She’d never seen anything so big, like an entire city unto itself. The carriage and wagons seemed to have a little trouble going up the hill because the horses were exhausted and the angle was steep, but eventually they made it to the top.
And that was when the entire world opened up.
The great gatehouse of Castle Questing was open wide as more people rode out to escort the party inside. Brighton couldn’t really see the gatehouse, just a corner of the massive thing, but she could see the entire eastern and part of the northern side of the walls, which were enormous. She counted four massive, powerfully-built towers, including part of the gatehouse, that were all constructed in the same fashion – the towers flared at the bottom to prevent men from easily mounting them. It was clear that Questing had all sorts of design details that would prevent an attacking army from gaining easy access.
But that wasn’t the structure’s only defensive feature – a great moat had been dug out upon the rise, looking more like a small lake. Additionally, the enormous walls flared out at the top, extending the battlements outward, which was another design element to prevent an attacking army from easily mounting them. One would have to be a spider to climb up the walls and then scale the underside of the battlements that jutted outward. The entire place was built to withstand a massive siege and then some, a fitting home for the great Wolfe.
It was impressive and awe-inspiring, this mighty castle at the top of the hill, and Brighton drank it all in. Soon enough, the carriage passed through the gatehouse, which was as big as a keep. They passed through two enormous gates and across a ditch dug inside the gatehouse. The ditch was spanned by an internal drawbridge. Over the ditch, she could see murder holes in the roof of the gatehouse. If some fool army was lucky enough to breach the steel gates, then they had a very large ditch and murder holes inside of the gatehouse to deal with. It was ingenious.
Once through the treacherous gatehouse, the party spilled into the vast outer bailey. Men swarmed around both the carriage and the wagon behind it. When the door opened, Evelyn was sucked out by a young man who hugged her so hard that she grunted. When he released the woman so she could catch her breath, he reached for Katheryn but she balked.
“You will not squeeze me so tightly, Thomas de Wolfe,” she scolded. “Try it and I’ll throw a fist into your throat.”
Thomas laughed. Dark-haired like his brother, Brighton could see some of the family resemblance. But in her opinion, Patrick was much more handsome. Thomas didn’t have nearly his brother’s size, either, but he was nonetheless a handsome male specimen. He was also quite young, perhaps no more than fourteen. He took his sister by the arm as she climbed from the carriage.
“My lady,” he said, bowing with great exaggeration. “I will treat you like the fragile princess you are. Am I holding you too tightly? Is my voice too loud? Shall it shatter your precious ears?”
Katheryn sighed heavily, eyeing her brother. “Shut your yap,” she grumbled. But she soon softened, fighting off a grin. “As much as you annoy me, it is still good to see you.”
Thomas grinned brightly. “May I hug you?”
Katheryn cocked an eyebrow. “You may, but if you crack bones, I will beat you within an inch of your life.”
Thomas laughed and took his sister in his arms, giving her a warm hug. He was about to turn away when he caught sight of Brighton, still in the cab. Curiosity – and great interest – suddenly filled his expression. He took on the appearance of a hunter, in this case, for lady flesh. All of those young man urges flowing through his veins lit a fire under him at the sight of a lovely woman.
“You have brought someone with you,” he said, swiftly moving for the cab. “I did not mean to be rude but I did not see you, my lady. Thomas de Wolfe at your service.”
He was addressing Brighton and she hesitantly moved for his outstretched hand. But the moment she moved to take it, a mountain of a man was between her and Thomas. She really didn’t even have to see the man’s face to know it was Patrick and her heart began to flutter again. It was as if her heart knew it was him without benefit of sight.
Patrick growled at his brother. “Back away, whelp,” he said. Quickly, that tone changed when he turned to Brighton and reached out to take her hand. “My lady, permit me to assist you. Welcome to Castle Questing.”
Brighton climbed out of the cab with Patrick steadying her as her feet touched the dirt of the bailey. Now, she could see the place in its entirety – Questing had both inner and outer wards, both of them surrounded by soaring walls. The shape of the castle, in general, looked something like an “H”. The gatehouse to the inner bailey was open, a much smaller structure than the main gatehouse, and through the opening she could see buildings in the inner ward. Oddly enough, she didn’t see a central keep, but many buildings all strung together, built against the inner wall. Her observations were cut short, however, when she heard Patrick address her.
“I am sure you are weary,” he said somewhat quietly, as joyful chaos went on around them with families reuniting. “I will introduce you to my father and mother and then you may rest until the evening meal.”
Brighton was a bit anxious at the thought of being left alone in a strange, new castle. “B-but where will you go?” she said. Quickly realizing that sounded as if she had personal interest in his plans and very much as if she didn’t want him to leave her, she amended her words. “T-that is to say, will you not speak with your father right away? I should like to be part of that conversation if you will permit it. It is about me, after all. I feel I should be present.”
Patrick took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. He hadn’t missed that wistful tone in her voice, the one she’d tried to quickly cover up. “You will be part of that conversation,” he assured her. “And I intend to tell my father why I have come as soon as possible. Besides… when he sees that I have brought you to Questing, a stranger, he will understand that this is not entirely a social visit.”
“Atty?” Thomas had been standing at his brother’s side nearly the entire time, realizing his brother had no intention of introducing him to the beautiful young woman. “Who is your guest? Will you not introduce us?”
Patrick turned impatiently to his young brother. “If I had any choice in the matter, I would not,” h
e said flatly. “But, seeing as you and the lady may run into each other during the course of her visit here, permit me to introduce you to Lady Brighton de Favereux. Lady Brighton, my brother, Thomas.”
Brighton nodded to the young man, who dramatically bowed before her. “T-Thomas and I have met,” she said. “He did, in fact, introduce himself.”
Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “He did?” he said, frowning at his brother in a threatening manner. “That was bold of him. And impertinent. Say the word and I shall punish him.”
Thomas grinned impishly and dashed away. “You’ll not lay a hand on me!” he declared. “Mother will have something to say about that!”
“Say about what?”
A woman’s voice with a heavy Scots accent came from behind. Patrick turned quickly to see his mother approaching with their father, but his father headed directly for the grandchildren who were starting to squeal at the sight of him. As Patrick’s father growled like a bear and scooped up wriggling, giggling grandchildren, Patrick greeted his mother with a kiss.
“You are looking well, Mother,” he said. “How have you been?”
“Well enough,” she said, her gaze finding the woman standing next to Patrick. “And I see ye’ve brought me a guest. Why did ye not send word ahead?”
Patrick turned to Brighton. “Mother, this is Lady Brighton de Favereux,” he said. “Lady Brighton, this is my mother, Lady Jordan Scott de Wolfe.”
Brighton had never really been taught how to properly greet nobility, with a curtsy and averted eyes, so she simply stood there and smiled timidly at the beautiful woman with Patrick’s pale green eyes.
Lady Jordan de Wolfe was rather petite. Her honey-blonde hair was wrapped up in a braid that was secured in a coil at the base of her skull. Though she was in her fifth decade, there were very few lines on her face. In fact, she looked quite ageless, serene and lovely, and far too small a woman to have birthed such an enormous man as Patrick. But she clearly had, for Patrick had some look of her about him, and Brighton automatically had a good feeling about the woman. There was something in the glow of Lady Jordan’s eyes that foretold of warmth and kindness.
Nighthawk: Sons of de Wolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 7) Page 10