WolfeStrike (de Wolfe Pack Generations Book 2)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Isalyn grinned. She liked the enthusiasm in Isabella’s expression. “I met a man once who told me he was from a place called Kashmir,” she said. “It is so far away that it took him months and months to come to London. Not even the men of Richard’s crusade made it as far as Kashmir.”

  Isabella was entranced. “Kashmir,” she said, rolling the name over her tongue. “It sounds wonderful and exotic. And he spoke our language?”

  Isalyn nodded. “He did,” she said. “He played an instrument that looked like a citole and sang songs in his language, of far off lands and beautiful women.”

  Isabella was listening with great interest. But then, she sighed heavily. “There is no chance of meeting a man from Kashmir in Northumberland,” she said with disappointment. “Are you returning to London soon?”

  Isalyn’s gaze flicked to Tor, who was listening to his Uncle Blayth speak with great animation. Was she returning to London soon? Much depended on what happened with Tor in the next few days. Perhaps she would be able to convince him to visit her in London. Perhaps he might even like it and stay a while, and she could show him the world she was part of. But that was all speculation – hopeful speculation.

  Quickly, she returned her attention to Isabella.

  “At some point soon,” she said after a moment. “It is my home, after all.”

  Isabella leaned forward. “Would it be too much of an imposition to visit you sometime?” she asked. “When I go to see my Uncle Edward, I mean. Would it be too much trouble to visit you so I could mayhap meet your man from Kashmir?”

  Isalyn grinned. “I would love to have you visit me,” she said. “In fact, you do not have to wait for a visit to your Uncle Edward’s. You are invited to come and stay with me at my aunt’s home any time you wish. It is on Watling Street, near Bow Street. Do you know where that is?”

  Isabella shook her head. “I am sorry to say that I do not.” Her face lit up with a smile. “But I will find it!”

  She seemed so enthusiastic that Isalyn giggled. It was comforting to find someone who was as excited about the large city as she was. Isabella giggled in response and soon they were giggling together. Under the most peculiar, and uncomfortable, of circumstances, they had found something to bond over. There only seemed to be genuine interest between them, the lure of a new acquaintance and a new conversation. But that quickly came to an end when Isabella caught sight of a pair of women entering from the servant’s alcove.

  Isalyn turned to see what had Isabella’s attention and she recognized Lenore returning to the hall. She was with another woman who looked just like her, perhaps a little older, and both of them were heading for the dais. She turned to say something to Isabella but refrained when she saw the look on the woman’s face. That warmth and friendliness was gone, replaced by something that could only be construed as wariness.

  The woman was on her guard.

  Isalyn was shortly to find out why.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I am telling you that she has that same look upon her face that the Violet woman did,” Lenore hissed at her sister. “The only difference is that Tor is looking at her with equal interest.”

  “Who?”

  “Lady Isalyn!”

  Barbara was standing next to a bed in the upper floor of the apartment block at Blackpool. She had come to prepare two chambers when she had been informed that Tor had visitors. Lenore had gone to the hall to prepare refreshments and Barbara had gone with the servants to clean out two dusty chambers, that were now mostly swept and made up in preparation for their guests.

  But Lenore’s words had Barbara pausing in her duties.

  “She is interested in him?” she repeated, concerned. “It will do her no good. He clearly said that he was too old for her.”

  Lenore was shaking her head. “Mayhap that is what he said, but he lied,” she said. “He is looking at her with great interest, Sister. I saw it myself.”

  Barbara was the more devious of the pair, the one who made the plans and led by example. Lenore was simply a follower. However, it took Barbara some time to act, like a slow burn. She had to be absolutely clear before she was motivated. As her sister’s words sank in, she set down the pillow in her hands.

  “That does not sound like Tor,” she said. “I cannot ever recall him looking at a woman with great interest. At least, not that kind of interest. Mayhap he is only being kind because he killed her brother.”

  Lenore shook her head firmly. “Listen to me,” she said. “He is looking at her as if he wants to kiss her. I have seen men look at women in such a way. The soldiers who take after the serving wenches, for example. They have the look of a predator.”

  “And Tor is looking at the woman as if he is a predator?”

  “He is looking at her in a most interested fashion. You must see it for yourself.”

  Barbara thought on that a moment. Lenore wasn’t one to act in haste, so if she said something was true, it usually was. Then Barbara looked around the chamber. This room was on the corner of the apartment block, with windows that faced both west and north. To the west was a yew tree that had sprouted up between the building and the wall, and to the north were the livestock and kitchen yards.

  In fact, the pen that kept the goats and pigs butted up against the north side of the building. The ground floor didn’t have windows on that side, so it didn’t matter, but the first floor did. Barbara made her way over to the windows, examining them for a moment. Each window had exterior iron shutters with a lock that could be closed in the event of a siege or bad weather. The key for the lock was on a large key ring in Barbara’s possession. But in the case of the shutters over the animal yard, the lock had rusted away and no one had ever fixed it.

  Barbara inspected the shutters, pulling them closed. Unable to lock the one over the yard, she locked the one by the yew tree. The shutters were designed in a pattern that was pretty to look at, making it an interesting view even when they were shut. When she turned back around, Lenore was looking at her curiously.

  “Why did you lock those?” she asked. “What are you doing?”

  Barbara didn’t answer her right away. She went to the chamber door and inspected the latch on it. It was a warded lock, meaning there was a complex series of tumblers and several ways to lock it. Being that this was a border castle, and sieges and invasions were common, there were times that one might want to lock oneself in a chamber for protection, or lock someone into it for safekeeping. Therefore, the elaborate lock worked from both sides.

  Each door in the apartment block had the same complex lock.

  “What is the woman’s name again?” Barbara finally asked.

  “Isalyn,” Lenore said, watching her sister with interest. “Isalyn de Featherstone.”

  “How long is she to be here?”

  “I do not know. That has not been discussed.”

  Barbara took out her enormous key ring and began fumbling through it. “Do you remember how we discovered these doors could be locked from the outside?” she asked.

  Lenore nodded. “It can be locked from the inside or the outside,” she said. “All you need is a special key to…”

  “To disable the latch on the inside,” Barbara said, cutting her off. She finally found what she was looking for, an oddly shaped key, and put it in the lock from the inside. “I will disable the latch so she cannot leave the chamber, at least for tonight. When she does not come to the feast, it will be assumed that she was too weary to attend. She can spend the night alone in this chamber, without food or fire. One night spent like that should prompt her to want to leave quickly, don’t you think?”

  Lenore nodded, a smile on her lips. “I should not have doubted you,” she said. “You always find a solution.”

  Barbara turned the key, disabling the latch from the inside. “Always,” she said, looking at her sister. “The bed is made and there is an extra coverlet, so she will not freeze to death, but being trapped by a broken lock will surely convince her to return
home quickly.”

  Lenore’s smile broadened. “Shall we go greet our guest, then?”

  Barbara nodded graciously. “By all means,” she said. “Let us show her Blackpool hospitality.”

  Leaving the door open, the sisters headed towards the great hall, confident that yet another eligible female for Tor’s attention would soon be gone by morning.

  Unfortunately for them, their victim would not make an easy target.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “This is Barbara,” Isabella said, rising from the table. “Barbara, this is Lady Isalyn de Featherstone. Barbara is Lenore’s sister, my lady. They are both Tor’s wards.”

  In the great hall of Blackpool, introductions were being made between Barbara and Isalyn. It wasn’t an unpleasant moment, but it was a strangely tense one. Isalyn forced a smile at the redheaded woman who was smiling thinly at her in return. There was something in the air between them, though it was difficult to discern what, exactly, it was. All Isalyn knew was that there was a hint of disquiet.

  She was intuitive that way.

  “Sir Tor has explained Barbara and Lenore’s situation to me,” Isalyn said evenly. “He told me that they are his chatelaines. Ladies, you are to be commended for the state of the hall. It is as clean and pleasant as any I have seen.”

  Barbara dipped her head graciously. “You honor me, my lady,” she said. “I am pleased that it meets with your approval.”

  “You have done an excellent job,” Isalyn reiterated. “I am sure that holds true with every corner of the fortress and not simply the hall.”

  Barbara swept her hand in the direction of the apartments. “That is why I have come, in fact,” she said. “Your chamber is now prepared, as is your father’s. If you would like to rest, I will happily show you to your chamber.”

  It sounded innocent enough. Isalyn turned to her father, still sitting with Tor and Blayth. “Father?” she said. “Your chamber is prepared. Would you like to rest?”

  Gilbert waved her off, still talking to Tor. Isalyn shrugged and returned her attention to Barbara.

  “It seems that he wishes to remain, but I will go with you,” she said. “My father’s knight should have my satchel.”

  “I will send someone for it.”

  Isalyn stood up and moved to follow Barbara and Lenore, but Isabella was suddenly by her side.

  “I will go with you,” she said, looping her arm through Isalyn’s companionably. “I would like to hear more about London. Will you tell me?”

  Isalyn nodded, feeling some comfort that Isabella was going with her. She was feeling uneasy with Tor’s two wards for reasons she couldn’t explain.

  Perhaps it was only nerves.

  The four women headed out of the hall, out into the bright day. Now that the fog had burned off, the view was limitless and Isalyn found herself looking at the inner bailey with interest. There was a massive, square keep nearly dead center in the middle of it and several large outbuildings.

  “This is such a large place,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at the keep. “I had no idea that it would be so big.”

  Isabella looked to see what had her attention, squinting in the sunlight. “It is a very big keep, but each floor only has one large chamber,” she said. “That is why guests stay in the apartments.”

  She was gesturing towards a two-story stone building built close to the wall. There were a few outbuildings near it, but Isalyn noticed that the apartment block butted up next to the kitchen yard.

  “Do you come here often, my lady?” she asked Isabella.

  Isabella shook her head. “Not too often,” she said. “My father divides his time between Castle Questing and Roxburgh Castle.”

  “And you travel with him?”

  “Sometimes,” Isabella said. “I like Roxburgh a great deal, but it is a dangerous place. The Scots are always trying to gain control of it, so my father prefers that I stay at Castle Questing with my mother.”

  “And the Scots are not always trying to gain control of that one?”

  Isabella grinned. “Not that one,” she said. “Castle Questing is impossible for them to get close to. It is the safest castle in the north, you know. It has never known a serious siege, mostly because the Scots would have to climb a mountain to get to it and, by that time, they would be too exhausted to fight.”

  Isalyn’s eyes twinkled. “Given that I was born in Northumberland, one would think I would know a little something about these big border castles and military tactics, but alas, I know nothing.”

  “Do not worry,” Isabella reassured her. “While you are here, I will teach you. The first rule is to never go outside of these walls without an escort. This far north, the Scots linger everywhere. They would be thrilled to pluck a ripe English lass and take her home.”

  Isalyn remembered what Tor had said to her; do not leave Blackpool unescorted. Now she was coming to see what he meant. A lass like Isabella, who spent all of her time in the north, knew not to wander away alone. Isalyn had done it from Featherstone, but Featherstone wasn’t quite as far north as Blackpool was. Here, they were very close to the border.

  Isalyn would have to remember not to wander alone and resist her natural instinct.

  She didn’t want to be plucked like a ripe berry.

  “You are kind to take the time to teach me,” she said. “You can teach me about the north and I can teach you about London.”

  Isabella liked that idea a great deal. “An excellent suggestion,” she said. “Teach me everything so that when I visit London the next time, I will look as if I belong there.”

  They grinned at each other, quickly becoming fast friends, when a shout came from behind. They paused, turning to see a big knight with black hair on the approach.

  Isabella’s eyes widened.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  Isalyn lifted her hand again to shield her eyes from the sunlight. It was a very bright day. “That is my father’s knight, Fraser,” she said. The same hand at her eyes waved at him. “Here, Fraser!”

  Fraser was carrying a satchel with him. Clad in a mail coat, tunic, and with his elaborate broadsword affixed at his side, he was moving swiftly. When Isalyn saw that he was carrying her bag, she went to him to collect it.

  “Thank you,” she said. “My father is still in the hall, but he will be staying in this building as well. Those two women ahead of us are the chatelaines. They can tell you which chamber is his.”

  Fraser nodded, catching sight of the dark-haired lass a few feet behind Isalyn. When their eyes met, he nodded his head in her direction.

  “My lady,” he greeted politely.

  Isalyn made the introductions. “This is Lady Isabella de Wolfe,” she said. Then, she lowered her voice as she turned away from Isabella. “This is the woman who was betrothed to Steffan.”

  Fraser’s dark eyebrows lifted. “It is?” he muttered. “God’s Bones… he ran out on that?”

  There was something in his tone that made Isalyn take a second look at him. He was focused on Isabella as if he’d never seen a woman in his life and Isalyn fought off a smile, realizing there was some manner of instant attraction there. She’d never seen anything spontaneous from Fraser for as long as she had known the man, so this was an event.

  She wouldn’t waste it.

  “Come with us, Fraser,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. “Lady Isabella, you do not mind, do you? Fraser can see where my father is to sleep so that he can have his baggage brought there.”

  Isabella was looking at Fraser much the same way he was looking at her. “I do not mind at all,” she said, her cheeks tinged pink. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.”

  Fraser dipped his head at her again. “For me, also,” he said. “Do you live here, my lady?”

  Isabella, on the other side of Isalyn, shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “I was telling Lady Isalyn only a few minutes ago that I spend my time between Castle Questi
ng and Roxburgh Castle. My father is Blayth de Wolfe, brother to the Earls of Warenton, Berwick, and Northumbria. He is the fourth son of William de Wolfe, the great Wolfe of the Border. Have you heard of him?”

  Fraser nodded. “Everyone north of Leeds has heard of William de Wolfe,” he said. “Young lads are raised on tales of his valor. You are his granddaughter?”

  Isabella nodded. “I am,” she said. “Did you ever met him?”

  “Alas, no,” Fraser said. “I wish I had been given the opportunity. I am sorry to hear that he passed away only a few short years ago, but he has left a great legacy.”

  Isabella was smiling at Fraser’s gracious compliment of her grandfather. He had a deep, silky voice, one that was quite pleasant to listen to, in her opinion.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I quite agree with you.”

  Fraser smiled at her, one that was bit more flirtatious and a little less polite, but there was nothing more to say at that point so he looked away, only to catch Isalyn grinning openly at him.

  Realizing she was aware that he thought Isabella was quite pretty, his smile vanished unnaturally fast and he cleared his throat, looking on ahead to the apartment block. Anything but Isalyn’s smirking smile. As they arrived at the apartments, the two red-haired chatelaines were waiting at the door.

  “This is my father’s knight, Sir Fraser le Kerque,” Isalyn said as they arrived at the entry. “He is to be shown where my father will sleep. Fraser, this is Lady Barbara and Lady Lenore, wards of Tor de Wolfe. They are his chatelaines.”

  Fraser greeted them politely, but not with anywhere close to the zeal that he had greeted Isabella. As Lenore took him into the apartments to show him where Gilbert was to sleep, Barbara led Isalyn and Isabella up the stairs to the first floor.

  Although Barbara seemed to be behaving herself, Isabella walked up the stairs behind Isalyn, remembering what had happened to Lady Violet. She was nervous that Barbara had put Isalyn on the upper floor, but it wasn’t as if she could say anything. She could only hope that Barbara wouldn’t maneuver Isalyn anywhere near the stairs for the duration of her stay. She simply didn’t trust her not to. In fact, Isabella was going to make sure her father knew of her concerns. Perhaps he could relay them to Tor.