Patrick was genuinely stumped at his father’s lack of compassion in the case. He couldn’t believe the man didn’t understand his point of view. “How do you know?” he asked. “If the Swinton Clan breached Coldingham, there would be nothing to stop them from breaching Kelso or Jedburgh.”
“And nothing to stop them from attacking Questing if they know she is here,” William pointed out, his manner growing more forceful. “Patrick, you have brought a woman who is not your responsibility to my home. Clan Swinton notwithstanding, my biggest concern is that we will incur the wrath of the church by keeping her here against her will. Does she even want to be here? Did she ask you to bring her here to protect her?”
Patrick felt as if he’d been slapped. He stared at his father, feeling confused and disappointed and foolish. He was going to feel even more foolish when he answered his father’s question truthfully.
“Nay,” he muttered. It was a difficult admission. “She did not ask me to protect her.”
“Then what does she want from you?”
Jaw ticking, Patrick looked away. “She wants me to return her to Coldingham.”
William sighed heavily and stood up. “Then take her back,” he said. “You have no right to hold her here. Your oath to the old woman was to protect her and you have done that. You saved her from the reivers and she is safe. Now, you will return the woman to her home where she belongs.”
Patrick felt like an idiot. “But what about the fact that she is the daughter of Magnus?” he asked. “The Swinton already knows that. What if, by not protecting her, we are inviting the wrath of the Northmen to come down on the borders as they seek their lost princess. By keeping her safe and away from the clans who wish to use her, we keep peace for us all.”
William could see that he was grasping at straws at this point; it was a weak argument he was giving. He put a big hand on Patrick’s shoulder.
“I understand you feel strongly about your vow to protect the woman,” he said. “But you have done your duty. And anything between the clans and the Northmen is not our fight. I will not get involved in it and neither will you. You have a noble and altruistic spirit, Patrick, but you must think logically about this. And I fear you are not.”
Patrick tried not to appear hurt by his father’s words. “I am thinking as I thought you would think,” he said. “I always believed my father to be compassionate in matters such as this. Was I wrong?”
“You were not wrong. But I will not risk my family or my empire for the sake of something we do not need to be involved in. You are not that woman’s last line of hope, Patrick. Let the church protect her. That is where she belongs.”
Patrick couldn’t even respond after that. He sank back against the windowsill, crossing his arms and hanging his head. He didn’t have anything more to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see men leaving the solar, whispering among themselves and he knew it was about him. He’d made a fool of himself. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t agree with his father in the least.
But doubt began to creep upon him. Was his father right? Was he not thinking logically about the situation? At least his father hadn’t said what he was probably thinking – that Patrick had been swayed by a pretty face. At least his father had saved him that embarrassment, but the message was clear nonetheless.
The great Patrick de Wolfe had allowed a woman to get the better of him.
As Patrick stood next to the window and stewed in a situation of his own making, he felt a big hand on his shoulder.
“Do not let your father’s words upset you so,” Kieran said. He’d lingered back behind the others, waiting until everyone left the solar before returning. Big, gentle, wise Kieran adored his nephew a great deal. “William is trying to think of everyone, not simply one small lady. He fears what will happen if the Swinton Clan and their allies discover where the lady is. Your father has his family to protect and fighting another man’s war is not something he relishes.”
Patrick snorted softly. “I did not expect his condemnation,” he said. “Had he been in my position, he would have done exactly the same thing. Now I see that coming to him for support was wrong.”
Kieran shifted so that he was standing opposite Patrick and able to look him in the face. “Was it his counsel you sought?” he asked, watching Patrick nod. “He gave it to you. It simply was not what you wished to hear. That does not equate to a lack of support. If you want my opinion, it is reasonable.”
Patrick looked over at the man he’d grown up idolizing. Kieran Hage, almost as much as his father, was a legend upon the borders. Patrick realized the man was right. His father had, indeed, given his counsel and it was sound.
Sighing heavily, Patrick turned his attention to the gentle night outside of the window. The sun had set and the torches were lit on the battlements of Questing, guarding the inhabitants against the night. There was peace in that vision but Patrick couldn’t feel much of it over his own distress.
“I leave for London in a fortnight,” he muttered. “I am to assume a new post and a new title. My life is spread out before me. But now….”
He shook his head, unable to find the words to continue, and Kieran’s brow furrowed. “What, Atty?” he asked quietly. “Tell me truthfully – does this woman mean something to you? How can she possibly mean something to you when you have only known her for a few days at most?”
Patrick shook his head quickly, before Kieran could even get the words out of his mouth. “She means nothing to me,” he said firmly; perhaps too firmly. “But my oath means something. I swore to keep her from harm and that does not mean returning her to Coldingham where she will only be abducted again. If they tried once, they will try again. I could not live with myself if I knew that somehow, someway, I contributed to that poor girl’s misery.”
“Then marry her and take her with you to London.”
Patrick’s eyes widened and he pushed himself away from the window. “I will not marry her,” he said. “I am to assume the most important post in the court of Henry and that appointment does not include a wife. I do not want one; I do not need one.”
Kieran watched his nephew stomp about. Thou doth protest too much, he thought. But he didn’t voice his thoughts, not wanting to agitate Patrick further. But something told him that Patrick was in denial when it came to the lovely lady he’d caught a glimpse of in the bailey.
Denial of his attraction to her.
“I know,” he said after a moment. “It was just a suggestion. Forgive me.”
“It was a foolish suggestion.”
“Agreed. Now, will you come with me to the hall? Sup should be served soon and it has been a while since I’ve sat at a table with you and heard of your adventures at Berwick. I want to hear about this raiding party and how you circumvented them. Will you tell me of your greatness, Nighthawk?”
Patrick glared at Kieran for a moment before breaking down into a reluctant grin. It was Kieran’s way of easing his distress and he knew it. Moving to his uncle, he put a big arm around the man’s neck and began to pull him from the chamber.
“I will tell you how great I am,” he said. “And then I will drink you under the table, old man.”
“Careful who you call an old man.”
Patrick snorted. “Is it not true?”
“That depends on your point of view. I can still take you down if I need to.”
“I would genuinely like to see that.”
“Ply me with enough drink and I just might be stupid enough to attempt it.”
Patrick laughed all the way to the great hall.
Because Alec had a horse that was turning up lame, he ended up out in the stables after the meeting in William’s solar. With the smell of hay and animals heavy in his nostrils, he wanted to check the horse before heading in to sup. But the truth was that he wanted to think about everything he’d just heard in the solar, Patrick’s explanation of the situation and William’s response.
Truth be told, it had been
surprising.
He had been present when Patrick had rescued the lady captive from the reivers. He had seen the ferocity with which the Scots had fought. It had been a rather nasty battle and chaotic, and the explanation that Patrick had uncovered for the raid had ominous tidings for them all. A Norse princess with ties to the Scots…. But Alec wasn’t quite sure how he felt about any of it.
It was all rather exhausting.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Hector said, interrupting his thoughts as he wandered into the stall. “How is the horse?”
Alec was bent over the horse’s right front leg, feeling up the fetlock. “Hot,” he said, “and swollen. With all of the riding and fighting we have done over the past couple of days, I am not surprised. ’Tis quite tender.”
Hector moved around him, squatting down to get a look at the hairy leg. He touched it, gently, feeling the heat in the tendons. “Wrap it with a mustard and mint poultice,” he said. “That should help.”
“I know.”
“You will have to rest him for a week or so. You’ll have to ask Uncle William to loan you a steed to return to Berwick.”
Alec simply nodded, still focused on the leg. “It sounds as if we are to be returning soon.”
Hector stood up, stretching his long legs. “What did you think of the discussion in there?”
Now, the true crux of Hector’s visit was out. Alec suspected that the man hadn’t come to the stables simply to chew the fat, perhaps stewing about the conversation in the solar just as Alec was. It was something that concerned them both, as knights sworn to Patrick. Whatever was coming involving the lady, they would more than likely be involved. But Hector was a little more edgy about things while Alec, with his father’s disposition, didn’t particularly get worked up about things that he couldn’t control.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Of Uncle William’s reaction. What did you think of it?”
Alec didn’t reply for a moment, still patting down the leg. “Do you really want to know?”
“I do.”
“You will not tell Uncle William?”
“Nay.”
Alec sighed heavily. “Then I think he was without compassion in the situation,” he said honestly. “Now we are to return that terrified woman back where she came from? I agree with Patrick – if we return her to the priory, it will only be a matter of time before the Swinton Clan comes for her again. God only knows what they will do to her.”
Hector leaned back against the wall of the stall, crossing his big arms. “Uncle William has a point, Alec,” he said quietly. “She is not our problem.”
“Patrick swore to protect her. Does his oath mean nothing?”
“Of course it means something. But Uncle William was right when he said that Patrick had fulfilled it. He had protected the girl, removed her from the battle, and now he must return her home. I cannot believe the old nun expected Patrick to protect the woman for the rest of his life. That is unreasonable.”
Alec shook his head. “An oath is an oath,” he said. “When we swore ours to the king and to God, did we give it a time limit? Of course not. Oaths do not expire.”
“Then you believe Patrick should protect the girl indefinitely?”
Alec shrugged, confusion in his manner. “I am not certain,” he said. Then, he looked up at Hector. “But I will tell you this – look at him when he watches her. It is my suspicion that he feels something for her and that is why he is so unwilling to forgive his oath. He is using it as an excuse.”
Hector was intrigued. “An excuse for what?”
“To keep her with him.”
Now, Hector was doubly intrigued. “Atty is interested in a woman?” he asked. Then, he shook his head. “It is not possible. He is only interested in his path as a knight. God’s Bones, the man is heading to London to assume the position as Lord Protector to the king. That is all he cares about right now.”
“Then why is he fighting so hard to keep the woman safe?”
Hector didn’t have a swift answer for that. “Frankly, I do not know,” he said, hinting at exasperation. “But I do not see anything bizarre in his behavior.”
Alec returned his attention to the horse. “Then watch him tonight as sup. See how he behaves with her.”
Hector didn’t like the sound of that. “Uncle William will not be pleased,” he muttered. “You know he expects great marriages from his sons, and Patrick most of all. I believe he is hoping the man will find the daughter of a duke or a niece of the king when he goes to London.”
Alec snorted softly. “And the bastard daughter of a Norse king is not good enough? She’s a pretty little thing, I will admit. Lovely, actually. But do not tell Katheryn I said that or she will box my ears.”
Hector grinned. “Katheryn is much like her mother that way. That is why I chose Evelyn – a calmer, more sedate female.”
“I like a woman with fire.”
“You are very much like your father in that respect. He married a woman with enough fire in her to burn down half of Scotland.”
Alec laughed softly, standing up from his horse and moving to gather the ingredients for the pack he would put on the horse’s leg. “Then what do we do, Hector?” he asked. “If Patrick will not take the woman back to Coldingham, what shall we do?”
Hector shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied. “We are sworn to Atty’s command. His wishes are our wishes. If he wishes to keep the woman, then we will have nothing to say about it.”
Alec shook his head slowly. “We are sworn to Uncle William as well,” he reminded Hector. “I agree with Atty in that the woman should not go back to Coldingham, but if he disobeys his father, who is ultimately our liege, we will be complicit.”
“We shall cross that bridge when we come to it, I suppose.”
“I suppose.”
“Are you coming into the hall soon?”
“Aye. Tell my wife so she does not fret.”
Hector left the stall, heading back to the keep where his wife and children were. As his long strides made haste towards the great hall, Alec’s words were beginning to weigh upon him.
Watch Patrick at sup tonight. See how he behaves with her.
It was an interesting prospect and one that surprised Hector, for Patrick had been the target of some very fine marriage offers that he had summarily refused. In fact, he had refused a marriage contract to Moira Hage that had nearly split the family in half. Now, of all the past situations, he found a woman he had interest in who was probably the most undesirable marriage prospect that Hector had ever heard of.
The bastard daughter of a Norse king? A woman that Clan Swinton was evidently after? Hector had to admit that the entire situation had him baffled. He would, indeed, watch Patrick tonight. If he saw even a hint of the man showing interest towards the woman, he was going to pull Patrick aside and slap some sense into him.
Trouble was, Patrick would slap back. Therefore, Hector shouldn’t be the one to do it. But William, if he saw where his son’s attention was focused, wouldn’t hesitate to throw a slap that Patrick would have to accept.
Aye, it was going to be an interesting evening.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The regalia of the great hall of Castle Questing was something on an entirely new scale of splendor and pageantry. It was pure majesty.
Living in the ascetic world of Coldingham, Brighton had never seen anything like it. The enormous great hall was built against the family apartments, splayed across the inner wall with a pitched roof and long, slender lancet windows. One side of the hall had two levels of balconies, made of polished wood, and across the ceiling hung the banners of the House of de Wolfe, the House of Hage, and the House of de Longley, who was William’s liege.
The floor, usually packed earth in great halls, was lined with stone, which was kept very clean in accordance with Lady Jordan’s wishes. There were rushes about, but only on the edges of the room, and fresh straw was sprinkled liberally under the thre
e enormous feasting tables in the room. The tables were now laden with great baskets of bread, tubs of butter, and bowls of fruits and cheeses.
It was to be a joyous meal with the unexpected arrival of Patrick and his sisters, and the tables were festively arranged accordingly. Brighton had never seen such festivity, as if she had traveled from earth and entered an entirely new world, one of warmth and excitement and prosperity. It was clear from everything she had witnessed that the House of de Wolfe was quite prosperous, down to the pewter salt cellars on the tables that were fashioned in the shape of a little castle with the de Wolfe crest on them, a stylized wolf’s head.
After having spent a few hours in her very own chamber, assigned to her by Lady Jemma, Brighton was quite excited for the coming meal. She was supposed to have rested during her time in the chamber but she found that she could not. The window of the chamber faced towards the gatehouse and the noise from the bailey drew her attention, so she’d perched herself at the window, curiously watching the happenings as soldiers and servants went about their duties. It was a new place, a new experience, and she wanted to see everything.
The sun had set and the battlements of Questing were lit up by what seemed to be a thousand torches, giving off golden light into the dark night. From her window seat, she watched a soldier work with a young dog, training it to be a good guard dog, but the dog wasn’t cooperating. It made her smile because the dog was no more than a puppy, long-limbed and shaggy, and it wanted to lick and play. More often than not, the soldier gave in to the joyful dog and let it kiss him.
In truth, she had been content to watch the activity of the castle forever but that time came to an end when a little servant appeared with warmed water and an offer to help her dress before sup. Brighton had been given a travel bag by Katheryn and Evelyn but she truthfully hadn’t looked inside of it; it had been brought up to her chamber before she’d arrived with Lady Jemma. Between her and the little servant, they pulled out everything in the satchel and laid all the garments out over the bed.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 145
