“Dray,” he said, another obviously drunk man. “Come with me. I must speak with you alone.”
Andreas was practically holding him up. “I do not have too much time, Bonny,” he said, addressing Paris by the name all of his grandchildren called him. “I have a new wife waiting for me and I am anxious to spend time alone with her.”
Paris waved him off. “In a moment,” he said, dragging him away from his uncles. “Come with me.”
Andreas looked at his uncles, shrugging, as Paris pulled him from the great hall and into the night.
Outside, it was a bright spring evening, with a smattering of stars spread across the sky. The snows of the winter had been short-lived, thankfully, and a beautiful spring was upon them.
A perfect time for a wedding.
Paris came to a halt and faced his grandson.
“I want to speak to you before you go to your wife,” he said. “Since your mother is no longer here, I had hoped you would marry before your grandmother passed away so that she could speak to you, but that unfortunately did not happen. Now, it is left up to me to say to you what I believe Helene would have said to you on this day of days.”
Andreas’ humored expression faded. “You do not have to, Bonny,” he said, putting his hands on the old man who had once been one of the most powerful knights in the north. “I know my mother is here, in spirit.”
Paris looked at him closely. “You are my only living link to her, Dray,” he said, suddenly seeming quite sober. “You are the closest thing I have to her. When I look at you, I see the shape of her face. You have her smile. You are all that is left of her.”
Andreas was quickly becoming emotional, something he didn’t particularly want to do. “Bonny, I’ve gone all day without thinking of her overly,” he said. “I will be honest when I say it is painful for me not to have her here. I appreciate what you are saying and I miss her greatly as well, but I do not want to go to my marital bed crying for my mother, if you know what I mean. I would look foolish.”
Paris chuckled. “I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to make you sad. I simply meant to remember her. This would have been a very important moment for her.”
Andreas nodded. “I know,” he said, sighing. “And for me. When I look at all of the grandchildren here tonight, it makes me think of Arista and Acacia, wondering what kind of women they would have grown up to be. Arista was lively and annoying, and Acacia was gentle and creative. I did not get to see them often because they were born when I was fostering, but when I returned home from time to time, I remember sitting on the floor with them while they played their games. Sometimes they would run circles around me while I tried to grab them, or they would put dried posies in my hair. Silly things, really, but sweet things. They were sweet.”
He was smiling in remembrance which made Paris smile, too. “They were very much like me,” he said. “A little wild, I suppose. Do you know who reminds me of them? Hector and Evelyn’s boys, Atreus and Hermes. They are such idiots sometimes. But Acacia and Arista reminded me of them greatly when they were young.”
Andreas put his hand behind his grandfather’s neck, pulling the man close. “I promise I will not forget my mother,” he assured him softly. “I would never forget her. She was my best friend when I was young and I have missed her every day since we lost her. She is always in my heart, Bonny, and I shall remember her to my own children. They will know her.”
Paris smiled at his grandson, one he had a soft spot for. He patted him on the cheek before digging into the pocket of his fine tunic and pulling forth an item. He took Andreas’ hand and pressed it into his palm. Andreas held it up, looking at it. It was small and gold, a little brooch with a flower in the center of it. The petals were red stones, garnets, while the center was black onyx.
He looked at Paris curiously.
“A flower?”
“A poppy,” Paris said. “I used to always call your mother my ‘fragile flower’ because she was a sweet, delicate lass. Athena was always tall and strong and sure of herself, but Helene was gentler. Quieter. A fragile lass, like an angel. The day she married your father, I gave her that brooch. It was to remind her that she would always be my fragile flower. When your father cleared away her things long after her death, he gave that brooch back to your grandmother, but she gave it to me, knowing I had been the one to give it to Helene. I realize that it is meant for a woman, Dray, but that is all I have to give you of your mother. I gave it to her on her wedding day and, tonight, I give it to you on yours. To remember her by.”
Tears came to Andreas’ eyes as he looked at it. He was so touched, something given to his mother, now given to him. It meant the world to him.
“Thank you, Bonny,” he said huskily, leaning over to kiss the man on the head. “I did not know about this. I shall treasure it always.”
“Good,” Paris said. “It belongs with you. I do not know if you were ever told this, Dray, but your parents’ marriage – and your birth – did not go as planned.”
Andreas was blinking away tears, grinning as he looked at his grandfather. “What you mean to say is that my mother was pregnant with me before she married my father.”
“Oh, you know about that, do you?”
“Aye, I know that.”
Paris watched Andreas pin the brooch onto his fine silk tunic and the sight of it choked him up. “You were the grandchild who nearly bought about the breakup of the House of de Wolfe and the House of de Norville,” he said. “I remember holding you right after you were born, wondering if you would be worth the trouble.”
Andreas glanced up from admiring his mother’s brooch. “Am I?”
Paris’ eyes glimmered at him. “Very much so,” he said. “You are a fine tribute to both houses. You may bear the de Wolfe name, but you look like a de Norville.”
Andreas chuckled. “So I have heard.”
Paris’ gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he patted him on the cheek. “Go, now,” he said, turning Andreas back towards the great hall. “Do not keep your wife waiting.”
Andreas hugged his grandfather tightly. “I will not,” he said softly. “Thank you, Bonny. For everything.”
The two of them headed back into the hall, Paris retreating to the table where his youngest daughter, Cassiopeia, sat as Andreas continued to the dais where his wife was sitting with the women. He leaned on the table, catching his wife’s eye.
“Gavy,” he said. “Unless we want a parade of drunken men escorting us to our chamber, for I have seen it far too many times, I will meet you there. Aunt Jemma, will you escort my wife up to our chamber without attracting the attention of the wild throng?”
Jemma’s amber gaze drifted over to the group of de Wolfe, de Norville, and Hage men standing in a bunch over near the hall entry.
“Aye,” she said in her heavy Scots burr. “They willna dare try tae follow me.”
“I know,” Andreas snorted. “That is why I asked. If you will take her through the servant’s entrance, I will find my way out another way. I thank you for your assistance.”
Like a covert operation, they split up. The last Gavriella saw of her husband, he was moving for the entrance where the gang of knights were gathered. Jemma took her by the hand, pulling her away from the dais.
“Come along, lass,” she said. “Hurry!”
Gavriella did.
It had been a day made of dreams and, as she had told Andreas, she still felt as if she were living one. Perhaps she would always feel that way but, at the moment, she was feeling a little anxiety, too. Over the past two months, she’d been told horror stories of how the de Wolfe and de Norville men liked to storm wedding chambers or not allow the newly wedded couple any privacy at all.
But she was coming to think that with Jemma at her side, the men would obey.
It seemed to her that the women in the family had all the power.
Kale Water Castle, or the Wolfe’s Den, was Troy’s enormous fortress on the Scots side of the borde
r just as Wolfe’s Lair was. While Wolfe’s Lair was massive and tall, but rather compact in the amount of space it covered, Kale Water Castle was gigantic simply in the acreage it did cover. It was a rare concentric castle this far north, meaning it had two sets of walls, one within the other, and an inner bailey that could hold thousands.
It was across this bailey that Jemma and Gavriella moved quickly, heading for the keep that was the jewel in the crown of the fortress. It was big, tall, and rectangular, with a wooden staircase leading to the entry on the second floor.
Quickly, they dashed up the stairs.
Once inside, they took the mural stairs up to the floor above where there were four chambers. They went to the chamber on the southwest corner, which was a small sitting room with an adjoining bedchamber, and Jemma opened the door to reveal the warm, comfortable chamber beyond. As soon as they stepped in, Jordan looked up from her sewing.
“Shhh,” Jordan said, pointing to her husband on a chair next to the hearth. “Poppy and the bairn have been sleeping there for about an hour.”
Jordan had referred to her husband as Poppy, the name all of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren called him. Gavriella laughed softly, moving over to William, who was slouched in the chair, his head tilted back and his eyelids closed. He held Storm against his broad chest and the baby was sleeping peacefully against his Poppy. When she bent over to catch a glimpse of her son, William peeped open his eye.
“Do not wake him,” he whispered. “It took him a long time to fall asleep. Matha says he is sprouting new teeth.”
Gavriella smiled at William, a man she had truly come to adore over the past couple of months. “You are very sweet to tend him,” she said. “But wouldn’t you rather be down in the hall with your sons now? You did not have to watch the baby all evening.”
William had a trencher-sized hand on the baby’s back, patting him gently when he started to stir. “I will see them soon enough,” he said. “It is not often that I have a chance to become acquainted with my newest great-grandchild.”
“He loves you, too.”
William smiled at her. They’d become quite fond of one another. The baby was settling back down and everyone was moving about quietly until the chamber door burst open and Andreas appeared.
“They’re right behind me,” he said breathlessly. “Aunt Jemma, I need your help. Can you stand at the door and chase them away? If you do not, I fear they might batter the door down. Uncle Tommy was even talking about climbing in through the windows.”
The baby’s head shot up at the sound of Andreas’ voice and he started wailing. With a heavy sigh, William stood up with the sobbing baby, trying to comfort the little lad.
“I can do better than that,” he said, heading for the door with the sobbing baby. “I’ll get rid of them.”
Gavriella was following him, her arms out because she wanted to take the baby, while Jemma swatted Andreas on the buttocks because he’d woken the baby up so rudely. Andreas truly had no idea why he was being beaten until his grandfather kicked open the door only to find at least four inebriated men standing there, Troy included.
“Do you see what you did?” William hissed at them. “You woke up the baby. Now, who is going to put him back to sleep?”
That moved the group away from the door faster than anything else possibly could have, except for Troy, who took his grandchild from his father and began rocking the baby gently. Properly contrite, he succumbed to his father’s guilt. As William stood there, satisfied with his tactics, Jordan and Jemma headed for the chamber door.
“The babe can sleep with Poppy and me tonight,” she told Andreas. “You two enjoy at least one night without a weepy baby. We will tend to him.”
Andreas looked at his wife, who looked like she was about to weep herself. He could tell she wanted her son, but it was their wedding night, after all. He put an arm around his grandmother’s shoulders.
“I’ll come and get him in a little while,” he said. “I do not think Gavy wishes to be parted from him for very long.”
The expression of gratitude on Gavriella’s face spoke volumes.
Jordan understood.
When the cries of the baby faded as Troy carried him off, Andreas shut the door and bolted it, facing his wife. For a moment, they simply looked at one another before breaking down into soft laughter.
“I thought we’d never be rid of everyone,” Andreas said, stepping away from the door and holding out his hand to her. “Finally, some peace.”
Gavriella took his hand and he pulled her close, hugging her tightly.
“More dreams, Dray,” she whispered. “These are the best dreams of my life.”
He couldn’t disagree. “Of mine, too,” he murmured against the side of her head. “So much has happened over the past couple of months, I feel as if my head is still whirling with it.”
Gavriella pulled back to look at him. “So much, indeed, but you are well-deserving of all of it,” she said. “Not only are you a new husband, but you have a new post. With the those hideous men finally gone from Hell’s Guardhouse, I am so proud to think that the king has appointed you the garrison commander of the fortress. It is a very important position.”
Andreas shrugged modestly. “I was already there,” he said. “We could not leave it unmanned after the deaths of those vile men, especially not with the Scots on the rampage, so someone had to assume command. It just happened to be me.”
“It just happened to be you because you are the best man for the job,” Gavriella said firmly. “I am very proud of you, my love.”
He smiled faintly. “That is all that matters to me,” he said. “Theodis told me tonight that his father has agreed to permit him to serve with me, so we will have a powerful force, indeed. I’m very happy about that. I’ve missed Tay.”
“I know you have. I am excited for him to join you, too.”
He pointed a finger at her. “I’ve spent the past two months cleaning that place up and making it livable for you and Storm, but it needs a woman’s touch.”
“And I cannot wait to assume my role, by your side,” she said sincerely. “I will be bringing some of my servants from Falstone. Iva and Jocosa. I must have their help.”
“As you wish,” he said. But his gaze lingered on her for a moment. “Gavy… are you sure you feel comfortable living there? It did belong to that man whose name we no longer speak of. If you do not feel comfortable, sweetling, you must tell me. I do not want to force you to live somewhere that upsets you.”
Gavriella shushed him, taking his hand and pulling him towards the bedchamber that was attached to the smaller chamber they were in. “I feel perfectly comfortable,” she said. “I’ve never been there in my entire life, so it is of little matter to me. You say you have cleaned out all reminders of those men we no longer speak of, so why would I not be happy there? You are there and it is my right to live with you. Not at Falstone, a half a day’s ride away.”
He smiled ironically, since she had been living with her father during their betrothal period because of all of the activity surrounding the deaths of John and Nicholas de Soulis and also because of the clan wars, which had thankfully started to die down. Immediately after the de Soulis deaths, William de Wolfe petitioned King Edward for control of Hell’s Guardhouse, or The Hermitage as he called it, and it was quickly granted by Edward with the agreement that the king could station royal troops there if he needed to.
William thought that Edward might view the property as a foothold into Scotland for the submission of the Scots, but he agreed because he didn’t want to see the fortress go to anyone else. With the addition of The Hermitage, and Andreas de Wolfe as its commander, the power of the House of de Wolfe was growing.
And so was the family.
Andreas couldn’t have been more thrilled.
She had pulled him into the bedchamber by this time, which was warm and fragrant with rosemary and lavender Rhoswyn and Andreas’ sisters had spread around the chamber. H
e went over to the hearth to stoke it while Gavriella went to the bed and began pulling back the coverlet. Andreas glanced over his shoulder, watching her.
“Can I tell you something?” he said.
She smiled at him as she fluffed up a pillow. “Anything. You know that.”
His attention returned to the fire. “When we have been alone over the past couple of months, really alone, it has been very difficult not to give in to my natural instincts with you.”
She cocked her head curiously. “What do you mean?”
He tipped his head in the direction of the bed. “That.”
After a moment of confusion, it occurred to her what he meant. “Ah,” she said, returning to the pillows. “You have been perfectly chivalrous, my love.”
“I know. But I did not want to be.”
She started laughing. “It is not as if we haven’t… touched one another. We had moments of weakness.”
That was true. They had done a fair amount of fondling, kissing, and caressing, but Andreas had held off bedding her.
“I know,” he said, poking the fire one last time. “But I did not bed you for one very good reason.”
“What was that?”
He stood up from the fire and turned to her. “Because I did not want to rush it or be an opportunist,” he said. “The one and only time you have partaken of such a thing was not a good experience. I wanted our first time together to be very special and very tender. It is very important to me that I show you this is something wonderful. It is nothing to fear.”
The man was unbelievably sweet and considerate. It was that gentle soul that had touched her from the first, a man of great compassion. Gavriella stopped fussing with the pillows and went to him.
“I have had much time to think on this moment,” she said. “At first, I thought I would be afraid, but I no longer think that. You are my husband and you are the man I love. I am more than willing to learn what you want to teach me. I want this to be something wonderful, too.”
His expression was warm on her. “Are you certain?”
WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations Page 34