“So it has happened,” he murmured.
Patrick had no idea what he meant. “What has happened?”
“My son has finally become a man.”
Patrick looked at him for a moment before breaking out into an awkward grin. “And I was not before?”
William chuckled. “You were a warrior,” he said. “You lived and breathed your profession, and I was proud. Very proud. But I have never been so proud of you as I am at this moment when you admit to me that living your life with the woman you love is better than living life in Henry’s shadow. Aye, you’ve become a man. And there is nothing more powerful on the face of this earth.”
“Then you understand what I am saying.”
“I understand all too well. Long ago, I turned down a similar appointment to be with your mother.”
Patrick sighed, perhaps with some relief. “Then I will write to Henry and explain the situation,” he said. “He will not be happy about it, but….”
William cut him off. “Nay, you will not write him.”
Patrick cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
William was shaking his head. “I mean that this is something you must tell Henry face to face,” he said. “Do not hide behind a message. That is cowardly. You will personally decline his appointment and thank him profusely for his generosity. As my son, Henry will expect no less. Show the man the same respect he has shown you by offering such an appointment – be gracious in declining it.”
Patrick understood what his father was saying but the thought of going to London, at least at this time, did not please him. “It will take me at least two weeks to reach London,” he said, trying not to sound despondent. “I will be gone a long time. I do not wish to leave Bridey for that long and I also do not want to take her. It would be a difficult journey and I want to travel fast and light.”
William agreed. “That is no journey for a woman,” he said. “This must be your journey alone. Go quickly and return quickly. Bridey will be safe here, at Berwick. She will be well protected. Or, better still, send her to Questing to be with your mother.”
Patrick thought on that. “Katheryn and Evie are here. They have become fast friends with Bridey. And this is her home now… she may not wish to leave it.”
William put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Then leave it to her where she would like to stay for the duration of your absence,” he said. “Meanwhile, there are men waiting in the hall for us. They are very worried about you, you know. Alec was ready to ride into Scotland this instant to avenge both you and Bridey. I fear we may have to calm the man.”
“Alec is a good friend.”
“He is a hotheaded banshee just like his mother.”
Patrick smiled weakly; he couldn’t disagree. He began to walk with his father towards the great hall, beneath a morning sun that was already increasing the temperature. He could also feel the humidity from the river rise. In all, however, it promised to be a beautiful day. Patrick glanced up at the sky, thinking that it had never looked so blue to him.
A new sky, a new wife, a new future.
And a man to kill.
But he didn’t tell his father that, for no matter what William said, Patrick was going to make sure Richard Gordon did not live to a ripe old age. Perhaps not next week, next month, or even next year, but Patrick had no intention of overlooking the man’s crime against Brighton.
The Nighthawk was coming for him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Patrick heard the soft knock on the chamber door. Lying down next to his wife, whom he believed was sleeping, he very carefully rose from the big bed, trying to navigate the new curtains that Bridey had hung, and made his way to the door. Carefully, he opened it to find his sisters standing outside, their features wrought with concern.
“Papa told us what happened,” Katheryn whispered loudly. “How is Bridey?”
Patrick turned to look at his wife’s sleeping form on the bed. “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” he said quietly. “She is sleeping now.”
Katheryn and Evelyn were very sad, indeed. “How did she react to it all, Atty?” Evelyn asked. “She must be positively terrified.”
Patrick stepped out into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind him. “She was naturally very upset to learn that a woman she trusted had betrayed her,” he said. “She was even more upset to learn of the plans Clan Gordon had for her. She cried herself to sleep, in fact.”
Evelyn clucked her tongue sadly. “Poor Bridey,” she said. “Who has ever heard of anyone wanting to crucify someone? The very idea is appalling!”
Patrick nodded, feeling limited patience. He knew his sisters were concerned for Brighton, and he was very appreciative, but he didn’t want to answer a bunch of their questions. He wanted to return to the room with his wife in case she needed him.
“It is,” he agreed. “She is quite upset about it. So when you see her next, please do not bring it up. I am not sure if it is something she wishes to discuss, but you will let her determine if it is or not. Agreed?”
Both Evelyn and Katheryn nodded solemnly. “I had Papa take the children over to the kitchen yard so there would not be so much noise,” Katheryn said. “Is there anything we can bring Bridey? Wine? Mayhap a hot bath would make her feel better.”
Patrick shook his head. “Not now,” he said quietly. “Return in an hour or so and mayhap I will change my mind. For now, just let her sleep.”
Evelyn and Katheryn nodded, turning for the stairs that led to the floors below. But Katheryn came to a halt and turned to her brother, once more.
“Papa told us that you are going to London to decline your royal appointment,” she said, studying him seriously. “This is something you wanted so very much, Atty. I feel badly that you feel the need to decline it.”
Patrick smiled weakly. “Do not feel badly for me,” he said. “There will be other royal favors given. I want to remain here, with my wife, and I am very happy about that. This is a good thing, Katie, I promise.”
Katheryn returned his smile. “Truthfully, I am happy about it, too,” she said. “I was wondering if you were going to drag Bridey to London. I am thankful that you are not.”
“So am I.”
“But what about the titles Henry was going to bestow upon you? And the castle? Will you still receive them?”
Patrick shook his head. “More than likely not. But I have something better, instead.”
He meant Brighton. He winked at his sister, turning for the chamber door and quietly opening it. With great stealth, he entered the room, making his way over to the bed as the faint noise from the bailey filtered into the chamber. It was very quiet outside so he was coming to think that maybe everyone had gone to the kitchen yard so that Lady de Wolfe could rest. He was just lowering himself onto the bed, very carefully, when Brighton suddenly rolled over and looked up at him.
“You do not have to be so quiet,” she said softly. “I am not asleep.”
He smiled at her and lowered himself down completely, propping his head upon his hand, elbow bent, as he gazed down into her lovely face.
“You can sleep all you want, you know,” he said. “I will stay right by your side. I will never leave you, Bridey. Not ever.”
She reached up, a gentle hand touching his cheek. “You will leave me when you depart for London,” she said. “Patrick, I have been thinking. You do not have to refuse your royal appointment. It was nearly the first thing you ever told me about and I know how badly you want it. I will come to London with you. If we must spend time apart while you tend the king, then so be it. I am not troubled by it.”
His expression turned serious. “But I am troubled by it,” he said. “You do not seem to understand how much time I would have to spend away from you. Eventually, it would take its toll on you and on me. Nay, it is much better for us to remain here at Berwick where we will see each other with great frequency. I could not stand to be parted from you, Bridey. Not for an hour, a day, or a week. All th
e time I was with Henry, I would be thinking of you and would, therefore, be ineffective as his Lord Protector. It simply would not work.”
Brighton considered his words. “But I do not want you to resent me someday. You wanted this appointment so badly… I could not stand it if you grew to hate me because you felt I had kept you from your destiny.”
He sighed faintly, reaching up a hand to stroke her soft hair. “You are my destiny,” he said. “When God led me to your captors those weeks ago, He put my destiny right in front of me. I can see that now.”
Brighton was still unsure. She knew how much the royal appointment meant to him and that, coupled with the news from the Scots messenger, had her reeling. A crying jag followed by an hour or two of exhausted sleep had brought her to this point in her life. She still felt vastly uneasy and fearful, even more fearful now that Patrick was going to leave her to journey to London to inform the king that he would not accept his royal appointment. She didn’t want him to leave her side but she understood his reasons.
She had to be brave.
“So you will leave me to go to London,” she said, her hand still on his cheek. “How long will you be gone? London is very far away.”
He kissed her hand when it came near his mouth. “Not so very far,” he said. “It is summer and the weather is good. I can make thirty-five miles a day, which means that it will take me ten days, twelve at the most. I will seek Henry immediately. He will see me considering he believes I am there to assume my post. But I will tell him that I cannot accept and head for home as soon as I can.”
Her expression was anxious. “But what if he makes you stay?”
“He will not make me stay if I do not want to. Lord Protector is an honored position, not a prison sentence. He will understand why I cannot accept it. The man is married to a woman he adores, by all reports, so he must understand my position.”
Brighton accepted that. She very much wanted to have faith that everything would turn out just as he said it would. “And when you return, then what?” she asked. “You have spoken of your anger at Richard Gordon. Will you punish him?”
Patrick’s hand moved from her hair to her nose, pinching it gently. “That is for me to decide,” he said, not wanting to frighten her with just how badly he wanted to punish the man. “And that is not something I wish to discuss right now. You know what has happened and you know why your mother prioress betrayed you. I will thank God every night until the day I die that I did not return you to Coldingham when I had the chance. Fortunately, I listened to my instincts. I knew that you were not to return to the priory but I did not know that it was for a far worse reason than I could have ever suspected. Suffice it to say, that you are to remain here as my wife. I will go to London and return as quickly as I can. Then Richard Gordon will know his fate. His scheme against you will not go unpunished.”
Brighton knew this was his general plan because, prior to her being informed about anything, she had heard her husband and his men in the great hall in an intense and loud conversation. It was such a lively discussion that it drew the woman simply from the volume of it. She had heard something said about a bastard paying for his sins, but she’d had no idea why until Patrick had taken her up to their chamber to inform her of a Scots visitor who had spoken of the corruption of Coldingham.
Then, and only then, did Brighton come to realize just how horrible the situation had been and how much her life had been in jeopardy. Just the thought of it made her grow frightened again and she threw her arms around his neck, holding him fast.
“Then it was truly God who sent you to save me that night,” she said, her face pressed into his neck. “Had you not come when you had, I would be a victim to a terrible plot. People I do not even know want to seek vengeance upon me for something I had nothing to do with. Even as you thank God for your reluctance to return me to Coldingham, I will thank Him for sending you as my savior.”
Patrick hugged her tightly, feeling her warmth and life against him, so incredibly grateful. She was healthy and safe, and that was all he cared about. Still, he hated to leave her. It was not something he was looking forward to.
“Then all is well, is it not?” he murmured, kissing the side of her head. “Everything is well, Bridey. You need not worry any longer. Now, we must speak of my journey to London. I have been speaking with my father and he wants to know if you would like to spend your time at Castle Questing while I am away.”
Brighton pulled her face from his neck, looking at him thoughtfully. “Why?”
“He thought you might feel better with my mother and Penelope for companionship.”
She smiled. “That is a kind offer, but I will stay here,” she said. “This is my home, after all. Our home. I have Katheryn and Evie for companionship and I will tend your fortress while you are away. Truly, there is no place I would rather be.”
He smiled, pleased at her words. They touched him deeply. “It is our home, isn’t it?” he said. “But we could live in a cave on the coast and I would still call it home if you were there. Wherever you are, that is my home.”
Brighton kissed him sweetly and hugged him tightly, feeling the pangs of separation already. Sweet Mary, she was going to miss him. Her heart hurt in ways she’d never known it could.
“When will you leave?” she asked.
“The sooner I leave, the sooner I return.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I was thinking on it. I was due to leave in a few days, anyway.”
She groaned softly. “As much as I hate to hear it, I know it is for the best.”
“I believe it is.”
Releasing him from her arms, Brighton crawled from the bed and stood up, going to a dressing table that she’d had the servants drag down from the storage room on the top floor. It was very old, having been some fine lady’s table years ago, perhaps another wife of a commander of Berwick. It was heavy, made of oak, and had faded painted flowers on it. Katheryn had covered it with a white damask cloth, one with lace on the edges, and now the cloth was covered with all of the dressing items that Patrick had purchased for Brighton on their trip to Wooler.
There were combs, ribbons, oils, pins, and even a tiny dagger with a yellow jewel in the hilt. It was a lady’s dagger, very pretty, and Brighton picked it up. Patrick caught the glint of the steel in her hand but before he could say a word, she took the dagger and sliced it through several strands of her hair, cutting it off. Patrick then sat up to watch what she was doing, curiously, and he could see her fussing with it on the dressing table.
“What are you doing?” he finally asked.
Brighton didn’t reply right away. When she eventually turned around, she was holding up the locks of hair all tied up with a small piece of blue ribbon. She went over to the bed, extending it to him.
“Even if I cannot go with you, you can take something of me,” she said, almost shyly. “I have heard that women sometimes do this so their lovers may have a keepsake of their hair. Will you take it with you?”
Patrick looked at the six-inch section of hair, reaching out to take it from her as if she were delivering pure gold into his hands. He held it up to his nostrils, smelling her in the silken strands. It was enough to melt his heart; a gesture that touched him more than words could express.
“I am deeply honored, my lady,” he murmured, kissing the hair. “I could ask for no finer keepsake.”
Brighton smiled, happy that he should be so touched. “Mayhap you will think of me when you touch it, just a little.”
He reached out, pulling her against him, and planted a fairly delicious kiss on her lips. “I do not need a lock of your hair to think of you,” he told her. “I will think of you endlessly while I am away, dreaming of the day I shall return to your arms.”
Brighton quickly succumbed to his kiss, ending up on the bed beside him. He kissed her forehead, each eye, her nose, and finally her lips again. He was about to deliver a far more lusty kiss when there was a knock on the chamber door.
“This had better be good!”
He ended up yelling those words into his father’s face. William’s head actually snapped back a bit at the force of the shout. Sitting on the bed, Brighton burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hands as Patrick appeared sheepish.
“Sorry, Da,” he said. “I thought it might be… oh, hell, it does not matter. How may I be of service?”
William cocked an eyebrow. “I am not quite over you yelling at me.”
Patrick fought off a grin. “Do try,” he said. “How can I help you?”
William could hear Brighton giggling and he peered into the room, smirking when he made eye contact with her. He refocused on his son, crooking a finger and pulling the man out into the hall. Patrick dutifully followed, shutting the door behind him.
“Are you going to beat me now?” he asked warily.
William turned to him. “I am not, although I should.”
Patrick grinned, his mood good. It was always good when he spent time with Brighton. “Then I thank you for your mercy,” he said, no longer wary of why his father called him into the corridor. “How can I help you?”
William looked at his son, seeing such joy in the man’s face. The Patrick he’d known since birth had been a serious and somewhat intense individual, a man who was solely dedicated to the knighthood. But this Patrick was different… joyful, humorous, as if he found utter delight in life itself. William couldn’t have been more thrilled to see the change; it did his heart good to finally see his shining star happy.
“Tommy Orry wants to leave,” he said. “He seems to think that the longer he remains here, the more chance there is of it being discovered that he came. I have already given the man a few silver coins but I did not know if you intended to reward him as well.”
Patrick shook his head. “If you have already paid him, then I do not see the need for me to pay him as well,” he said, “but I will see him before he leaves. Where is he?”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 160
