De Wolfe in Disguise
Part of the De Wolfe Series connected world
By
Jennifer Siddoway
Text copyright by the Author.
This work was made possible by special permission through the de Wolfe Pack Connected World publishing program and WolfeBane Publishing, a dba of Dragonblade Publishing. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original World of de Wolfe Pack connected series by Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc. remains the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc., or the affiliates or licensors.
All characters created by the author of this novel remain the copyrighted property of the author.
De Wolfe Pack: The Series
By Aileen Fish
The Duke She Left Behind
By Alexa Aston
Rise of de Wolfe
By Amanda Mariel
Love’s Legacy
One Wanton Wager
By Anna Markland
Hungry Like de Wolfe
By Ashe Barker
Wolfeheart
By Autumn Sands
Reflection of Love
By Barbara Devlin
Lone Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 1
The Big Bad De Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 2
Tall, Dark & De Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 3
By Cathy MacRae
The Saint
The Penitent
By Christy English
Dragon Fire
By Danelle Harmon
Heart of the Sea Wolfe
By Hildie McQueen
The Duke’s Fiery Bride
By Jennifer Siddoway
De Wolfe in Disguise
By Kathryn Le Veque
River’s End
By Lana Williams
Trusting the Wolfe
By Laura Landon
A Voice on the Wind
By Leigh Lee
Of Dreams and Desire
By Mairi Norris
Brabanter’s Rose
By Marlee Meyers
The Fall of the Black Wolf
By Mary Lancaster
Vienna Wolfe
The Wicked Wolfe
By Meara Platt
Nobody’s Angel
Kiss an Angel
Bhrodi’s Angel
By Mia Pride
The Lone Wolf’s Lass
By Michele Lang
An Honest Woman
By Ruth Kaufman
My Enemy, My Love
My Rebel, My Love
By Sarah Hegger
Bad Wolfe on the Rise
By Scarlett Cole
Together Again
By Victoria Vane
Breton Wolfe Book 1
Ivar the Red Book 2
The Bastard of Brittany Book 3
By Violetta Rand
Never Cry de Wolfe
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
De Wolfe Pack: The Series
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About Jennifer Siddoway
Other titles by Jennifer Siddoway
Chapter One
Caerlaverock Castle
Scotland, 1481 AD
Lady Rebekah Maxwell’s footsteps echoed down the hallway as she ran for the entrance of Caerlaverock Castle. Her heart was racing frantically, and a sob ripped from her chest while she fought back tears, refusing to believe the horrible thing she had witnessed. In her rush, one of her shoes caught on an uneven stone and she stumbled forward.
As her hand gripped the cold stone of the corridor wall, the entire world seemed to be crumbling in around her. She’d seen them coming from her window; men riding from the north toward the drawbridge with a heavy load in a wooden cart.
The men alone would not have caused her worry—it was the speed in which they approached, and what it meant they were carrying that frightened her. Even the sky had an ominous, gray hue as it stretched out across the moors.
Something was wrong.
There was only one reason they’d return without their heads held high. It meant one of them had fallen.
Nae, Rebekah pleaded silently. Please, God. Dinnae let it be Henry.
Her mind was spinning as she turned the corner and went running down the steps. The floor seemed to stretch out in front of her and her lungs burned from the exertion, but she had to see for herself. Lady Maxwell didn’t want to believe that anything could ever befall her adored elder brother. Henry was beloved throughout their clan—there was not a soul among them who would wish him harm—but these were dangerous times. There was much unrest along the English border, and Clan Johnstone aimed to unseat her father as Warden of the Marches and claim their castle as their own.
The Maxwells only hope for peace was an alliance with a neighboring clan to support their claim, one that had been arranged with Henry’s engagement to Laird Gordon’s daughter, Margaret.
Lady Rebekah clamored frantically down the steps, and when she reached the entrance to the courtyard, she had to be restrained by a pair of guards. One of them stepped in front of her to keep Rebekah from approaching the cart, while the other blocked her with his forearm.
“I’m sorry, Lady Maxwell, but he isn’t fit fer ye to see like this.”
She tried to force her way between them, but one of the guards gripped her by the wrists and shook his head.
“Let me go.”
He flinched as she beat her fists against him, but he remained unmoving.
“What are they carrying?” she demanded.
The man did not respond but glanced back over his shoulder toward her father. Laird Maxwell was on the opposite side of the courtyard looking in the wagon. His face was unreadable, and she felt the distance was like a giant void between them.
“I have to see. Da, tell them to let me see him.”
Laird Maxwell nodded.
“My lady, yer brother has fallen. His body will need to be prepared fer burial.”
As the words escaped his lips, Rebekah’s fears were confirmed. “Nae…”
The warrior’s expression softened. “I’m terribly sorry.”
Unwilling to believe him, Rebekah stared at the cart. “I-I have to see him.”
She tried to pull away again. “He’s already gone. There is nothing ye can do.”
She felt her knees growing weak as the weight of their gazes fell on her. Almost everyone in the castle had gathered in the courtyard. Women were crying, and the men hung their heads in sadness. Henry should have been the next Warden of the Marches, just like their father. He would have been a wise and powerful leader for their people. But now all of that was gone, the future she’d imagined was no longer a possibility.
Her breathing came in shallow gasps and she clung to the warrior holding her. She knew his name; James. Their families had been acquainted since childhood. In fact, she knew all the warriors in the courtyard—they were her friends and loyal to Clan Maxwell. How could they have let this happen? She felt betrayed. Her father trusted them to protect Henry while they were traveling, and they had let her down.
&n
bsp; Through her heartache and tears, she could make out their faces in the crowd. Each and every one of them had the same devastated expression. They never wanted this to happen, but knowing that didn’t help. It didn’t ease her pain.
Rebekah stumbled backward, and her father’s voice sounded from the crowd. “Let her come.”
At his command, the men moved aside. She glanced over at her father. Laird Maxwell was standing on the grass near the side of the cart, looking down at the body wrapped in linen. He was not a young man, the lines of age and wisdom furrowed deep within his brow and silver hair streaked the edges of his temples. She had never seen the expression on his face before, it made him look much older.
Rebekah proceeded toward the cart. As she crossed the grassy area between the towers, she began to smell the stench of death. She could feel her heartbeat ringing in her ears. Somehow, she felt like the ground should give way and swallow them up completely. She peered into the cart. The fabric was pulled back from her brother’s face and a red sash of the Maxwell tartan was draped across his chest, the same color as his blood-stained tunic.
As she stared at his face, nausea overtook her. It was undoubtedly Henry, there was no question in her mind—yet it was all wrong.
Henry’s strong jaw and dark brown hair were smeared with blood and frozen in time. His skin was ghostly pale with a grayish hue creeping in around his lips. Lips that would never smile again. It was Henry’s face, but he was never meant to look like that. He was never meant to be so still.
The nausea came again, and she fell to her knees beside him.
“Nae! Henry, nae…please!”
Her sobs of anguish echoed through the courtyard as she gasped. She couldn’t catch her breath, and had to breathe deeply through her nose to keep from fainting. The ground felt like it was spinning, and while she could hear the vague hum of conversation around her, she could not understand a word of what they were saying.
Nae.
“Nae…” she whispered in horror while tears blurred her vision. “This cannae be. It was a peaceful mission. What happened?”
“There was an ambush on the road, my lady,” one of the men addressed her. His clothes were dirty and ripped. “He fought bravely and held the men off as long as he could, but one of the thieves took advantage when his back was turned and impaled him in the stomach. He was gone before we could even get to him.”
Laird Maxwell nodded and placed his hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “Thank ye, James. Please take Henry’s body to the chapel so Father Franklin can give him his last rites. He will need to be in the ground as soon as possible.”
One of his advisors spoke up, asking, “And what of the alliance? If the Gordons hear about this–”
He sighed. “I understand the danger. With this unexpected turn of events, there will be much fer my daughter and I to discuss.”
She knew their advisor was right, of course. With Henry gone, the alliance with their neighbors would be redrawn. They were counting on his marriage to Lady Margret Gordon to bring peace between the clans. Now, it was no longer a possibility.
The feud between their clans went back so long, she didn’t even remember how it had started. One thing was certain though, without the alliance there would be blood.
Rebekah sobbed as she braced her hands against the cart, unable to rip her gaze away from Henry. He was kind and good, he always took care of her while they were growing up, and managed to keep her out of trouble. He did everything right. It seemed unjust that he would be taken from this world when there were so many other horrible people that still walked and breathed.
She threw her arms around him in a last embrace. “Nae, I cannae say goodbye to him like this.”
She could feel her father’s hand against her back as he tried to comfort her. “Ye have to, child. Henry would want ye to be strong.”
“Nae!”
“Lady Rebekah?” James addressed her nervously. “Ye look pale.”
She stumbled away from them, breathing deeply and shook her head.
Nae…nae this is a mistake…
Her vision narrowed. The whole world seemed to be crashing down and she cried out his name repeatedly. When the guards finally managed to pull her off him, she collapsed into James’s arms.
Everything their family had built, everything she loved, was about to change forever.
Chapter Two
Rebekah spent the rest of the day in a sort of daze. When she first awoke, she was nearly inconsolable. She cried until her throat was dry and scratchy. She stared out the window on the edge of her room to the march beyond. Gray storm clouds loomed above their castle in a foreboding shadow, just like the future of their clan. Her maids flitted in and out of her chambers without speaking, bringing her sustenance-any comfort they could think of. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes puffy and swollen as she recovered from the afternoon.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. She jerked around. Her maid, Lottie, stepped inside and curtsied, saying, “Lady Maxwell, yer da wishes to have a word with ye in his solar.”
Rebekah nodded stiffly. “I understand…”
Even as she spoke the words, they didn’t resonate. Part of her had died along with Henry, and she didn’t know if she would ever be the same. Her response was automatic. She knew her role in the castle and what would happen now that Henry was gone. She’d always known what her responsibilities were as a noble lady.
Lottie quietly walked over to where Rebekah was seated and offered her an arm. “Would ye like some help, ma’am?”
“Nae, that’s quite all right. Thank ye.”
The kind, portly woman nodded.
Rebekah stood and smoothed out the front of her dress before following Lottie out into the hallway. She’d changed into a black gown to reflect her grief and removed all finery from her person. The entire castle was in a state of mourning, everyone speaking in hushed tones as she made her way. Outside, a slow drizzle came down as if the whole world was crying with her. Everything was dull and gray—it seemed fitting.
A wave of grief overtook her as she glanced down from the open window toward the chapel in the courtyard. She could feel another sob rising up within her chest.
Nae, she thought. Da is right. Henry would want me to be strong.
She was the lady of the castle and everyone else would soon be looking to her example. Rebekah sealed her emotions within herself and would not let the tears come again.
She would be strong. She would be the daughter Laird Maxwell raised her to be.
When she made it to her father’s solar, Rebekah knocked on the door solidly, though her hands were shaking.
A moment later, her father called, “Come in.”
She opened the door. The room was small but comfortable and overlooked the courtyard. There was a fireplace for warmth. Laird Maxwell sat in the corner on a chair that was draped with doe skin. He glanced up at her and acknowledged her with a nod. “Thank ye fer coming, dearie. I’m well aware that ye’re still in mourning after the loss of yer brother—I feel the same—but there is much we need to discuss, and it cannot wait until we’ve had time to recuperate.”
Rebekah nodded.
Laird Maxwell gestured to a chair. “Please, have a seat.”
She sat obediently.
He let out a tired sigh and stroked the whiskers of his chin. “As ye’re well aware, Henry’s death has put not only our family but the entire clan in a difficult situation. There is nae time fer grieving. Do ye understand?”
Rebekah nodded shakily. “Aye.”
“If the Johnstones catch word of Henry’s death before a new alliance has been put in place, they will seize the opportunity and attack. The longer we wait to align ourselves with a powerful ally, the longer our people will be in danger.”
“What of the Gordons? Do ye think they will withdraw support?”
“Without question. The only reason they were friendly to begin with was because we had an offer of marriage. It wasn’t just ab
out Henry, it was about the title. Having their daughter married to the next Warden of the Marches was what they were really after. Without Henry to marry Margret, he will go in search of another.”
As he spoke, Rebekah could hear the tremor in his voice. “Then what do we do?”
“Laird Gordon will hear about what happened before long and withdraw support. He knows that without his men our clan is vulnerable. I suspect he will seek out Clan Johnstone.”
Her eyes widened. “Ye dinnae think they would unite against us, do ye?”
“I do indeed.”
“Then how are we to stop it?”
“I already told ye, we need to make a new alliance, and fast. There is still a bit of time before word of Henry’s death reaches Clan Gordon. We need another plan.”
Rebekah pursed her lips. “How long?”
Laird Maxwell’s expression was thoughtful for a moment. “A few days perhaps? Until the Gordons hear from us and confirm Henry has fallen. Lady Margret and her father will have to proceed as if nothing happened. In the meantime, ye should start considering yer options.”
Days?
Her chest tightened at the thought. Everything was happening so fast.
There was a long pause before he continued. In that moment, she could tell he was not speaking to her as a parent, but as the leader of their clan. He was calm, calculated, and putting the needs of his people before himself. Rebekah could feel her heart beating faster in anticipation of what she knew he was about to say.
Her options, as he had so delicately put, were limited indeed.
“I hope ye understand what is about to happen,” Laird Maxwell said. “With Henry gone, the responsibility has come to ye now. Our alliance with Clan Gordon was fragile to begin with, now we are all but ruined. They are good people, but they protect their own before risking their lives fer others.”
“What about trade?” Rebekah argued. “Surely there is something Clan Gordon lacks.”
Her father nodded to concede the fact, but insisted, “None of that would be as tempting as another offer of marriage. Without that, we have nothing left to offer them.”
Rebekah nodded numbly. “Then what are my options, Father? The Gordons have no sons…”
De Wolfe in Disguise: De Wolfe Pack Connected World Page 1
