William patted his son on the cheek before pushing himself off of the wall, stretching his body out, as it tended to become stiff these days. His joints weren’t like they used to be. But he paused before leaving.
“Before I forget,” he said. “I know that Kieran struck you earlier. I would consider it a personal favor if you did not go after him to retaliate. You can survive a blow from him but I doubt he could easily survive one from you. Am I making myself clear?”
Patrick laughed softly. “I will not retaliate,” he said, a mischievous twinkle to his eye. “When you see him, tell him I said that my mother slaps harder than he does.”
William snorted. “Poor Kieran,” he said. “We keep telling him that he is a weak old man. Someday, he is going to believe it. There was a time when Kieran was the strongest man I’d ever seen.”
Patrick’s laughing eased. “He still is,” he said. “At least, in my eyes he still is. I always admired him greatly and I still do.”
“Can I tell him that?”
“Nay. Let him think that my mother slaps harder than he does.”
Chuckling, and shaking his head at his cruel son, William left the stable. He was heading for the keep and his wife, who would soon learn that her husband and son were about to leave Questing to head into Scotland.
Patrick, meanwhile, went to unsaddle the palfrey and put the saddle away, at least for the day. He still thought it was a good idea to drop Brighton off at Berwick on their way to Coldingham for the very reasons he gave his father. It was to be her home, after all, and the fortress was impenetrable. He felt very confident having her there, settling into her new life while he went on to Coldingham to buy his bride. Twenty pounds was a lot of money but it didn’t matter; there was no price too high that he wouldn’t pay for his wife.
His wife.
The thought of that lovely woman he married had him grinning like a fool all over again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Fortunately for Patrick and William, Jordan did not want to go with them to the priory, feeling that she could not genuinely contribute to the solution for Patrick’s situation. She chose, instead, to stay behind and pray for a positive outcome, much to the relief of her husband and son. Penelope, however, was another story. She didn’t want to stay behind. She didn’t want to part with anyone. The three-year-old girl who ruled Castle Questing was in a snit from the very start.
Leaving Castle Questing before sunrise had been difficult because of wailing, sleepy children. Penelope was devastated that Brighton, as well as her father and her playmates, were departing for home. Katheryn and Evelyn had their hands full with fussy children that they bundled up into the carriage. The carriage itself wasn’t all that large – meant to hold four adults – but with the unhappy children, it had three women, an infant, three little boys and one little girl, all of them squirming and crying. The carriage was nearly overflowing.
The only children who weren’t crying were Katheryn’s older boys, who rode their ponies proudly from Questing, being escorted by their grandfather and father. Brighton, Katheryn, and Evelyn each sat with a child in their laps while the other two crowded in on the benches around them.
Jordan and Jemma, very sorry to see their grandchildren and children depart, followed the carriage across the bailey and to the great gatehouse where they were finally forced to stop, waving to the carriage and the knights as they passed through the big gates. Penelope was so distraught she wouldn’t even wave farewell. Brighton could hear Penelope wailing all the way down the hill to the road below.
It was another glorious summer morning as the sun rose over the dew-kissed fields, advancing majestically over the land. The war horses were excited, feeding off of each other as the knights and the one hundred men Patrick had brought with him headed out on the road, eastward bound for Berwick. William was astride his big silver beast, hanging back by the carriage and his mounted grandsons, as Alec took point and Hector brought up the rear.
The de Wolfe pack was on the move.
With Kevin and Apollo having ridden on to Northwood Castle the day before, the group was down one knight and Patrick remained fluid, moving up and down the column, stopping on more than one occasion to check in on his wife as she sat with little Lisbet on her lap. Not normally distracted by a carriage carrying women, that had markedly changed. He was very distracted by the carriage and everyone knew it. He would wink at his wife in the carriage and she would wink back.
But it was a good distraction. There was such joy in Brighton’s heart at the sight of him, winking at him and waving to him as he would stop by. To her, he seemed much happier today than he had yesterday, which had been a day of turmoil mostly. Their return from Wooler to Castle Questing had been wrought with tension. No matter how much Patrick tried to reassure Brighton that all would be well, she was still fretful, terrified of how William and Jordan would react. Her fear was well-founded, for Patrick and his father had argued most of the morning only to come to a fragile peace by the afternoon. Brighton had remained in the family’s chambers upstairs, playing with Penelope and praying for a good outcome.
Fortunately, someone had listened to her prayers.
When the yelling and arguing was over, William and Patrick had come up with a plan to deal with Coldingham and now they were heading back to Berwick to drop off the women before Patrick and his father continued north to compensate the priory for a loss of a postulate. Brighton had been surprised to hear of the missive where Mother Prioress demanded her return but she was confident, much as Patrick and William were, that the woman would accept monetary compensation for the cost of a bride.
At least, that was her hope.
She truly didn’t know why Mother Prioress would have demanded her return unless the woman felt fear for her young charge. She had asked to go with Patrick back to Coldingham because she wasn’t entirely certain that Patrick alone could convince Mother Prioress that he’d not forced the lady into marriage, but Patrick had denied her, assuring her that between he and his father, the mother prioress would understand that this had not been a forced marriage. Still, the doubt lingered in Brighton’s mind. She sincerely hoped she was wrong.
As she tried not to fret about it, the trip back to Berwick was uneventful and they reached Berwick in very good time. It was still daylight, with the sun laying low on the western horizon. The children inside the carriage were restless, having spent all day traveling. The women in the carriage were more than eager to release the throng so they could run off their pent-up energy.
Through the gatehouse, across the bridge that spanned the chasm, and into the vast bailey the carriage lurched, and Katheryn wasted no time in throwing open the door and exiting the cab. Her youngest, Christoph, was grumpy and whining as she pulled him out, followed by Evelyn carrying her infant, helping Atreus and Hermes from the carriage as Brighton climbed out last, carrying little Lisbet.
The men were being disbanded as the children began to run about, looking for their fathers, chasing each other and generally blowing off several hours of being cramped inside a carriage. Only the young girls seemed not to want to join their brothers as Evelyn and Brighton carried them towards the keep.
Even though Brighton had little Lisbet in her arms, she kept searching for Patrick, spying him in the midst of the men who were disbanding, dismounting his charger and handing him off to a soldier. William was with him, the two of them standing in the middle of the enormous bailey in conversation. But something must have told Patrick that Brighton was looking at him, some innate sense, because he turned to her, now on the steps of the keep, and waved at her. Satisfied that he had acknowledged her, Brighton followed Evelyn and Katheryn into the keep.
“This is now your castle, Bridey,” Katheryn said as they entered the tall foyer and she began removing the leather gloves she had been wearing. “Evie and I will take our orders from you now. Preparations for the evening meal should already be underway but you may want to see to them; would you like Evie and I to do
that for you?”
Brighton grinned; Katheryn was being most diplomatic about the fact that she was now replaced as chatelaine. She was being just as kind as she could possibly be about it.
“I-I would appreciate that,” she said. “Mayhap you would even let me come along as you go about your tasks?”
Katheryn returned her smile. “Come and supervise us,” she said. “See how we do things to ensure it is the way you want them done.”
Brighton nodded eagerly. “I-in truth, I never learned how to run a house and hold,” she confessed. “That was not something we were taught at Coldingham. This will all be very new to me.”
Katheryn patted her on the shoulder. “It will be nothing at all,” she said. “You will learn all of this very quickly and Evie and I will help you. In fact, it is good to have three of us to manage this monstrous place. It is too much for one or two people.”
Brighton was relieved to hear that. She hadn’t really considered the fact that she would now be expected to administer the household, as Patrick’s wife. With everything else they’d had to deal with, it was down on her list of priorities but it was probably more intimidating to her than anything else about this new life she’d embarked upon. To be in charge of this vast fortress was daunting. She was grateful for the kindness of Patrick’s sisters.
“M-mayhap we can divide the duties,” she suggested. “That is what we did at Coldingham. As I told you, I tended the garden and worked in the kitchen. I know a great deal about kitchens and stores.”
“Perfect!” Katheryn threw up her hands in glee. “If you will see to the kitchens, I will tend to the management of the great hall and Evie can manage the servants and the rooms in the keep to ensure everything is properly kept. It will be so much easier this way.”
Brighton agreed wholeheartedly. “T-that is a wonderful idea,” she said. “S-shall we settle the children and unpack our belongings first? Then, I would love to see to the kitchens.”
The ladies were in complete agreement and as Brighton followed the women up the stairs to the family chambers, helping Evelyn to put her daughters to bed, she was coming to think that, already, she was happy here. She loved Patrick’s sisters and she loved their children. She was as content and happy as she could possibly be at the moment. The question of Coldingham was still heavy in the air, but that would be dealt with. There was no use worrying over it until Patrick and his father met with success… or not.
She hoped it wasn’t the latter.
Still, her new life seemed surreal in spite of everything. Leaving Katheryn and Evelyn with the children, she headed back down to the entry level with the intention of seeking out her trunks. They had come back with them on a provisions wagon, the same wagon some of the children had ridden in on their journey to Castle Questing, but on the trip back to Berwick it was full of trucks and other things. Stepping outside onto the top of the steps that led down into the bailey, she shielded her eyes from the sun as she surveyed the area. She could see that most of the men had been disbanded and trunks and satchels were being brought into the keep by servants.
Brighton could see her painted trunks plainly and she directed the servants, when they came up the steps, to take the trunks to the chamber next to Patrick’s. That was where she had originally slept her first night at Berwick and, to be truthful, she wasn’t exactly sure how happy Patrick would be if she simply moved into his chamber without him having time to move his own things around to give her space. She was the man’s wife now but she didn’t want to presume anything. Better let him tell her what he wanted before she acted.
Retreating into her chamber once her possessions were dropped off, Brighton busied herself by opening up her trunks and removing the clothing. All of it had been carefully rolled up, so as not to wrinkle, but it was better to get them aired out and hung up on a peg. So she carefully shook out everything, laying it upon the bed and smoothing it out. It was more beautiful clothing than she had ever seen and, coupled with what Evelyn had given her, she had a wardrobe fit for a queen. Or, the wife of a prestigious knight, as it were. These were more beautiful things than she ever knew to exist.
Meant for a life she never thought to have.
Somehow, Brighton ended up on the floor going through the combs and soaps and oils that Patrick had purchased for her. So many wonderful, glorious things. A servant entered her chamber at one point with some wood for her hearth, lighting the fire as the sun began to set and bringing her two fat tapers to give light to the chamber.
She truly had no idea how long she had been on the floor, inspecting combs and scarves and other things. The sun continued to set and the land outside grew dark. Soon enough, she heard Patrick’s voice as he came up the stairs. He was speaking to someone and, as Brighton rose to her feet and went to her open chamber door, she could see that Evelyn had met Patrick and their father at the top of the stairs. Evelyn was now showing William where he was to sleep for the night.
William was soon surrounded by several of his grandsons who wanted to help him with his saddlebags. One wanted to carry his sword. Brighton smiled, watching as William was very patient with his demanding little grandsons. William and the gaggle of boys followed Evelyn down the corridor to his borrowed chamber as Patrick headed in Brighton’s direction. Her smile broadened when their eyes met.
“Your father has many helpers,” she commented.
Patrick gave her half-grin. “Ah, yes,” he said. “They all want very much to squire for him, although they are so young I do not know if they really know what that means.”
Brighton laughed softly. “I will squire for you if you will let me,” she said. “I have already unpacked my bags. I would be more than happy to help you unpack yours.”
Patrick’s grin broadened as he went to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her gently on the lips. “That is most kind, wife,” he murmured. “I have missed you today. I hardly had any time to see you or speak with you.”
Brighton wrapped her arms around his neck. “I could see you most of the day through the window of the carriage,” she said. “But, alas, even in the carriage with your lovely sisters, I was still lonely for you.”
It was a sweet thing to say, warming his heart, and Patrick kissed her again, feeling a spark ignite in his belly, a spark he was coming to equate with his feelings for Brighton. He’d felt that spark most strongly the night he bedded her and also last night when he had bedded her again. It was a very lustful spark and one he was more than happy to answer the call for, but the moment he bent over to kiss her more lustily, he caught sight of her open trunks in the chamber next to his and everything came to a halt.
“What are your trunks doing in there?” he nearly demanded. “You do not think to sleep in there, do you?”
Brighton shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “But I did not want to move my things into your chamber until you told me to. That would have been quite bold of me.”
He scowled at her. “Bold?” he repeated, aghast. “You are my wife. You will sleep where I sleep. Start taking your things into my chamber immediately, you silly wench.”
It sounded very much like a command and Brighton quickly turned for the chamber, yelping when Patrick swatted her on the behind with a trencher-sized hand as if to punish her for being so foolish. She giggled, and he grinned, as she went to collect her things.
Seeing that she was doing as he had commanded, Patrick went into his big, cluttered chamber and began removing his mail. As he hung his mail coat on a frame near the door, he began to look around the chamber and think that, perhaps, this didn’t look much like an inviting chamber for a woman. It was dusty and had clutter in the corners. When Brighton scurried in with an armful of her new garments, he held out a hand.
“Wait,” he said. “You may want to clean this room to your liking before you move your possessions in here. I do not spend much time here and the servants are not allowed to come in when I am not here, so it is a rather dirty room. You may wish to clean it up first.”<
br />
Brighton looked around the chamber. It was very big, with an enormous bed and a huge wardrobe among other pieces of furniture, but it was also very dusty. There were no oil cloths covering the windows and no curtains around the bed. In all, it was a spartan chamber meant for a man. She turned to him.
“I will not clean it up if you do not want me to,” she said. “If you are comfortable here, I see no reason to disturb it on my account.”
He smiled faintly, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her on the forehead. “There is every reason to disturb it on your account,” he said. “A man-pig lives here. Feel free to do anything you wish to the chamber to make it more comfortable for us both. I give you permission.”
Brighton turned to the room again, thinking that it did, indeed, need some sweeping and cleaning. Oddly enough, she was very excited at the prospect. Make it comfortable for us both.
She would.
“Tonight?” she asked.
He gave her a squeeze and let her go as he prepared to remove his padded tunic. “Tonight,” he said. “Right now if you wish. I have some business with my father now, so do your worst.”
Brighton beamed at him. “I will,” she said. “I have much to do.”
He watched her scurry back into the other chamber where her items were laid out. “I will see you at supper.”
She had her back to him as she dumped her garments back onto the bed. “Indeed, you will.”
“Bridey?”
She paused and stood up, turning to look at him. “Aye, Atty?”
His gaze lingered on her a moment. “I am glad you are here. With me.”
Her joyful expression softened, adoration filling her features. “As am I.”
“I do love you. You know that.”
She nodded. “And I love you, my husband. More than you can ever know.”
They were words to fortify him, filling him with steel for a soul and granite for determination. Nothing on earth could crush him as long as he had her love. Hearing those words from her… he never knew anything could mean so much to him.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 157
