Twenty years ago, Lady Ysabella Gordon’s father had purchased a position for his daughter in the priory. Young as she was, she took the veil quickly and worked her way up to Mother Prioress within a few years. The more her father would donate, the more she was promoted. The lure of money to the failing priory was great and, in truth, it was all her father could do for her, considering she had been sullied by one of the Clan Haye sons, a man who had raped her and beget her with child. The child had died, fortunately, but most knew of Ysabella’s misfortune, so the church was her only option. She became Mother Prioress and the secret of the rape was buried.
But not to her.
Mother Prioress kept her hatred buried in her heart even as she sang God’s praises and administered her sisters and postulates. Nineteen years ago, when Juliana de la Haye came to the abbey with an infant in her arms, an infant that needed protection, the mother prioress was more than happy to take the infant along with a sizable donation for her keep. But even as little Brighton grew up in the church, emotionally abused by most of the sisters except for Sister Acha, who was protective over her charge, Mother Prioress kept watch of the girl.
A Haye bastard.
And she brought her family into this hatred, so the offense against her had been an offense against them all. For many years, the mother prioress plotted with her family about what to do with the girl once she became of age. There was much need for revenge in the hearts of the Gordon, and when Brighton saw her nineteenth birthday come and go, the plan that had been formulating most of her life was put into action.
The raid.
But it was a plan that had ultimately not been successful. The English had involved themselves in it and Lady Brighton was now missing, definitely not where she was supposed to be. Mother Prioress was fairly certain she knew where the girl was, as the massive garrison at Berwick had more than likely been the English who had confronted the reivers because of its close proximity. That suspicion was confirmed when the woman had received a missive from none other than William de Wolfe two days prior.
With that missive came serious problems and Mother Prioress had sent word to her brother, head of Clan Gordon, to come to her. He was to meet her on this day and peasants working the fields for the priory had spread word of his impending arrival. They’d seen him and his men upon the road and word had traveled fast.
The Gordon had finally come.
“What’s this I hear?” Richard Gordon said as he charged into the church where his sister waited. “Those bastards failed, did they?”
Mother Prioress put up her hands. “Silence,” she hissed. “Ye must be quiet!”
Richard was a big man with a head of brown, messy hair and small brown eyes. He had a few of his men with him, men who knew what he knew, including his distant cousin and best friend, a flame-haired man named Tommy Orry. Tommy and Ysabella had been childhood sweethearts, years ago, but that was long ended. Still, Tommy had come with him to ensure that Richard didn’t do anything foolish to a sister he controlled as his father had controlled. Given Richard’s rage at the moment, that wasn’t going to be easy.
“The Swinton bastards failed?” Richard demanded, ignoring the request to keep the volume of his voice down. “Where is the lass?”
Mother Prioress sighed heavily. “Anger will not help the issue, Richard,” she said. “Ye must be calm and I will tell ye what I know. Certainly, there has been an added… complication.”
Richard threw up his hands. “What complication?” he asked, exasperated. He pointed a finger in his sister’s face. “We agreed on this, we did. The girl was tae be taken by the Swinton and brought tae me. I’ve paid them well for this!”
Mother Prioress nodded quickly, waving her hands at him to keep his voice down. “I know,” she whispered loudly. “But the English intercepted the Swinton Clan before they could take her tae ye. They have her now.”
That seemed to make Richard even angrier. “Who has her?”
Mother Prioress didn’t want to tell him. “I…I….”
Richard lifted a hand to slap the answer from her but Tommy stopped him. “Nay, Richie,” he muttered, looking at Ysabella and still seeing that girl he loved from long ago. “Strikin’ yer sister willna help the situation. Ysabella, who has the Haye lass? Do ye know?”
It had been years since Ysabella had been called by her birth name. God bless Tommy for being rational. She still adored him; she always had. “Aye,” she replied. “I received a missive from the Wolfe of the Border himself, William de Wolfe. He has the lass. He has asked me what I know of her parentage and if it ’tis true that she’s the daughter of Magnus, King of the Northmen. Richard, as far as I knew, the lass had never been told this. Sister Acha must have told her the truth.”
At the mention of William de Wolfe, Richard seemed to calm drastically, but it was in sheer disbelief. “She is with William de Wolfe?” he gasped. “Saints preserve us… the man himself has her now?”
Mother Prioress nodded. “Aye,” she said. “I suspect ’tis the English from Berwick who intercepted the Swinton. ’Tis the closest garrison.”
“Then the lass is at Berwick?”
“I think so,” she said. Then, she sighed with great emotion. “I told Sister Acha never tae tell the girl of her parentage, for there was no need for her tae know. She is the daughter of Magnus, King of the Norse, but even knowin’ such a thing wouldna mattered. ’Tis not as if the man knows or cares about her. But somethin’ must have happened that Sister Acha felt the need tae tell her.”
“Did the Swinton take Sister Acha also?”
Mother Prioress nodded. “I… I told them to,” she said, hoping her brother wouldn’t lash out and try to strike her again. “I didna want the Swinton tae compromise the lass before they delivered her to ye. I thought a chaperone would deter their hot blood.”
Richard wasn’t thinking about striking his sister again but he was thinking about the mess that had been made out of their plans. “Compromise her?” he repeated, aghast. “Ye take no issue with what is tae become of the lass, but ye dunna want men tae sully her first?”
Mother Prioress nodded hesitantly, embarrassed at her twisted sense of protection towards her charge. “Aye.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “So ye send an old nun with the lass who told her about her true self,” he said with disgust. “And the lass has now told de Wolfe. The man has what is rightfully mine. I paid for her. Ye write tae him and tell him that he must return her tae ye. She is a ward of the church and she must be returned immediately.”
Mother Prioress nodded quickly, eager to do her brother’s bidding and keep a lid on his temper. “I will tell him,” she said. “That was my intention all along. But if he knows about the girl and her parentage now… ye canna send the Swinton after her again. I know ye didna want tae have a direct connection between the abduction and ye, and ye hired the Swinton tae make her abduction look like a raid, but if ye do that again and de Wolfe hears of it… it may not go so well in our favor. He speaks kindly of the lass in his missive which leads me tae believe he may be friendly with her.”
Richard looked at her, stricken. “Friendly with her?” he said in outrage. “That Sassenach bastard has what belongs tae me! I want her back and I dunna care how ye do it, but do it. That lass means our revenge agin’ Clan Haye. Are we tae go back on those plans after all of these years?”
Mother Prioress shook her head, her features pale with strain, glancing at Tommy as she spoke, hating that he was hearing of her complicity in the plan. As if he would think less of her. He already thought her a damaged creature for the Haye rape those years ago, the very thing that prevented their marriage. But now with her complicity in the murder of an innocent girl… she’d fallen very low, indeed.
“Nay,” she finally said. “This is my revenge more than it ’tis yers.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “They shamed our clan when a son of Haye touched ye. It isna only yer revenge, Ysabella. It belongs tae us all. Ye canna take i
t away from us.”
Mother Prioress could see the bloodlust in her brother’s eyes and the sorrow in Tommy’s. The problem was that these days, she wasn’t completely cold-hearted towards Brighton, a lovely young woman she had seen grow up right before her eyes. But old hatreds die hard and there was still a good deal of hatred in her heart for Clan Haye.
Still, the plans her brother had for Brighton were shocking, even to those seeking revenge for a horrible wrong. She cleared her throat softly.
“Do ye still plan tae crucify her, then?” she asked softly.
Richard lifted an eyebrow. “Nothin’ has changed,” he said coldly. “I hired the Swinton tae bring her tae me. I plan tae take the girl to the lands of her mother, to the family who shamed us, and put her up on a cross for all tae see. That lass has been raised by the cross; she shall die by it. And we will have evened the score with Clan Haye.”
This time, Tommy spoke up. He couldn’t help it. Like the others, he’d known of this plan for years but hearing it spoken of with such venom was giving him fits of conscience. Now that the time for their plan was actually upon them, he wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to punish an innocent for crimes of her kin. Unlike the others, Tommy simply wasn’t that cruel. But he was a bit of flotsam in the crashing waves of Richard Gordon’s world. If he went against the man entirely, he would be crushed and he knew it.
So would Ysabella.
“Do ye still believe this is the right thing tae do, Richie?” he asked. “Killin’ an innocent lass?”
Richard turned to look at him, his eyes flickered in the dim light, a deadly glimmer. “She’s a bastard,” he said. “Much like the bastard the Haye beget my sister with, this lass should have never been born. One bastard for another, I’d say. There is no great loss.”
Tommy didn’t have an answer to that and neither did Mother Prioress. She, too, had known the plan all along so this was of no great shock. But these days, there was reluctance in her heart to follow that scheme. She knew Brighton and the thought of seeing the lass crucified… it simply didn’t sit well with her any longer.
Perhaps the years had mellowed her rabid sense of vengeance or perhaps her years as a nun, and in serving God, had taken their toll. All she knew was that once this plan was in action, she wasn’t eager to see it through. But she was terrified to tell her brother that, terrified he would take his vengeance out on her.
“Then I shall tell de Wolfe tae return the lass,” she said, averting her gaze from her furious brother because she was afraid he would see her cowardice. “She belongs back at Coldingham. The man canna go agin’ the church.”
Richard’s gaze lingered on his sister, who seemed weakened now that their plan had gone into action. She tried to hide it from him but he knew. He could see it.
“See that ye tell him,” he said. “When the lass is back wit’ ye, you will send me word. Then I will do what needs tae be done.”
Mother Prioress nodded, although she wasn’t looking at him. She found that she couldn’t. “I will,” she said quietly. “Ye must go now. I will send the missive tae de Wolfe before the day is out.”
Richard didn’t say anything right away but, after a moment, he reached out to grab her around the neck before Tommy could stop him. Mother Prioress gasped as his flushed faced appeared in her line of sight.
“See that ye do,” he snarled. “If ye’ve become a coward after all of these years, I’ll cut yer heart out.”
Tommy yanked him away at that point and she stumbled back, her hand on her neck, as Tommy practically pushed Richard from the church. She could hear them scuffling and hissing as they went.
Even after they were gone, Mother Prioress stood there and rubbed her neck, wondering if there was any way to salvage the situation. Certainly, she couldn’t go against her brother. He meant what he said; he would cut her heart out. Therefore, if she had any hope of helping Brighton, it would have to come from another source. De Wolfe – the man who wrested her from the Swinton – would be able to resist Richard and protect the girl, but de Wolfe had no real stake in the situation. There was no reason why he should risk himself to try.
But there was someone else who had a stake, indeed.
Along with the missive Mother Prioress sent to de Wolfe, another missive meant for Magnus of the Northmen was sent by way of a monk traveling with papal immunity. No one would dare rob or kill a man of God, and he was instructed to take a cog from Berwick, the biggest nearby port, across the sea to the land of the Danes and then find his way to Magnus to deliver his message. He was told to go with all due haste.
Although Mother Prioress wasn’t sure how long it would take to reach Magnus, if it ever would, she prayed daily that it would reach him sooner rather than later, for her missive contained twelve simple words…
Your daughter with Juliana is at Berwick Castle. She is in danger.
Perhaps Magnus’ paternal instinct would cause him to come. But it was equally as likely that he wouldn’t give a thought to a bastard child.
Mother Prioress could only pray it wasn’t the latter.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Castle Questing
Even from the stables, Patrick could hear the screaming and it made him grin, for he knew exactly what was going on. He’d been hearing it, daily, for the past week. Nine days, to be exact. He’d been watching Brighton play with the de Wolfe grandchildren, and in particular, with Penelope.
The youngest and insanely spoiled de Wolfe child had found a best friend in Brighton de Favereux, so much so that she’d taken to crawling out of her own bed at night and seeking out Brighton. She would then climb into Brighton’s bed and sleep soundly until morning. Then she would follow Brighton around most of the day. Brighton had shown an inordinate amount of patience and sweetness with Penelope, playing with the child but also reciting stories to her and generally entertaining her. As the days passed and the routine continued, something wonderful unfolded.
There was an innocence about Brighton that was apparent from her years of living at the priory. She hadn’t been tainted by fostering in other households, learning to gossip, perhaps learning to be petty or vain. She was the most beautiful woman Patrick had ever seen, both inside and out, and she wasn’t even aware of it. Her beauty was in her actions, every day. And every, day Patrick watched her, more and more enamored with her to the point where he actually held her hand in public once, in front of his family, who had been wide-eyed about it but said nothing. None of them could blame him, after all, if he’d fallen in love with the girl.
They’d fallen in love with her a little bit, too.
Therefore, Patrick grinned as he listened to the screaming and finished cleaning the hooves of his war horse, a duty he had to attend to personally because the horse wouldn’t let anyone else around him. Penelope and her nieces and nephews, many of them older than she was, were playing a game of chase in the kitchen yard with Brighton. One of them had a rock which, according to what he’d been hearing, was really a valuable ruby and must be kept safe. Hence, the chasing going on. Everyone wanted the ruby. He could hear giggling along with the screaming.
“There ye are.”
Patrick was distracted him from his thoughts as Jordan entered the stables, her hair wound upon her head and wrapped in that faded yellow shawl she always bound herself up in. It was an old shawl and something William teased her about, telling her they would probably bury her in it because she loved it so well, but Patrick saw the shawl as something innately his mother. It reminded him very much of her. He stood up from his task, smiling at her as she came in.
“Aye, here I am,” he said. “Were you looking for me?”
Jordan nodded, distracted by the screaming going on. She shook her head reproachfully. “God bless Bridey for keeping the children occupied as she has,” she said. “I dunna know what I did before she came. The lass has the patience of Job.”
Patrick’s grin broadened. “They are my kin and I do not even have such patience for them,” he said
. “But she seems to love being with them and they love her in return, so I believe everyone is happy with the arrangement.”
Jordan nodded. “I suppose,” she said. “I will miss her when she is… well, I willna speak of it, not now. I came tae ask ye a favor.”
Patrick nodded. “Of course. What is it?”
Jordan pulled out a couple of spools of thread, one a faded white color and the other a deep blue. There wasn’t much left of the thread. She held the spools out to her son.
“I need ye tae go tae Wooler,” she said. “The town is south along the road, about ten miles away, but there is a merchant there who has all manner of fabric and threads. His stall is near the town’s well and there is a sign above it with a spinning wheel etched upon it. I need these spools. Will ye go for me?”
Patrick nodded, eyeing the spools just the same. “Since when do you purchase thread?” he asked. “I have seen you and Aunt Jemma spin for hours and hours.”
Jordan cocked a well-shaped brow. “’Tis true, but I canna seem tae dye me thread that exact shade of blue,” she replied. “And the other thread is a linen thread that is difficult tae come by. I canna make it. I need at least two spools of each. In fact, while ye’re there, ye can pick up other colors as well – brown, red, yellow. Make the trip worth it.”
Patrick shrugged and took the spools from her, tucking them into the pocket of his tunic. “Is there anything else you need?”
Jordan cocked her head thoughtfully but more screaming caught her attention. “Aye,” she said, pointing to the kitchen yard. “Take Bridey with ye. That poor woman deserves some peace away from those screaming children. Take her with ye and buy her something pretty, Atty. Tell her it is a gift from all of us for tending the bairns as she has. I think she would like that.”
The thought of spending time alone with Brighton did not displease him. In fact, he liked the idea very much. The past several days had seen him spend very little time alone with a woman he was growing quite fond of and he tried not to sound too eager.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 150
