The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It happened so swiftly that no one tried to help him. In fact, no one could help him at that moment because as hundreds of men poured from the walls of Canaan, hundreds more suddenly burst from their hiding place to the north and to the south of the fortress, rushing at those who were trying to escape the pandemonium.

  Exactly as Scott had planned, the split army from Canaan boxed in Sadgill’s meager forces. Now, it was a slaughter as Sadgill’s men perished in quick succession.

  But it wasn’t instantaneous. There were pockets of fighting where Sadgill’s men were putting up a struggle, refusing to surrender to the superior Canaan numbers, and it rapidly became a bloody mess. Men were swing axes as well as swords and daggers, so pieces of men were being hacked off at every turn. Very quickly, the mud of the bailey turned into a blood-tinged swamp, littered with pieces of flesh.

  It was noisy, too. Screams and grunts filled the air, men spewing hatred or men begging for mercy. And in the middle of it, Scott pushed through the writhing mass of men, heading for Adam who, because the senior knights had chosen not to tell the men of Canaan the identity of their traitor, was in the middle of it fighting against the very men he’d brought into Canaan. In order to save himself, he’d turned on those very men he’d hoped would bring him victory and that drove Scott mad with rage.

  He had no intention of letting Adam get away with it. He was furious on many levels – on a personal level that the man conspired to help an enemy take his property away and on a general level for creating havoc for all of them. Any way Scott looked at it, Adam deserved to be punished. Then there was also the little matter of frightening Avrielle – of threatening her – which was probably the most important reason of all.

  Sword in his hand, Scott charged through the bailey, shoving men aside and cutting down more than one soldier who turned a sword against him. Off to his right, he could see Stewart fighting in a group of soldiers while Milo, somewhat behind Stewart, was ordering some of the de Wolfe men to remove any fallen comrades. There weren’t many but there were a few. Milo was trying to get them to safety.

  The rest of his men – Jean-Pierre, Stanley, and Raymond were in various positions around the bailey, either subduing Sadgill men or slaying them. In the northern gatehouse, Kristoph and George were clearing it of any fighting and lowering the portcullis to trap Sadgill’s men even further. The southern gatehouse was so clogged with men that there was no chance of anyone escaping. The du Wolfe and du Rennic men were gleeful, and thorough, in their destruction of the traitors, and it was everything that Scott could have hoped for in a battle. Finally, the de Wolfe and du Rennic men were united for a common cause.

  A Sadgill fool trying to flee crossed Scott’s path and tripped into him in his haste. Scott drove his fist into the man’s face as a reward. As the man fell at his feet, Scott stepped over him. He wasn’t too far from Adam at that point but before he could move any closer, a body was in front of him.

  “He’s mine, de Wolfe,” Jeremy said quietly. “I can see who you are aiming for, but Adam is mine. He is my knight and his betrayal must be dealt with – by me.”

  Scott couldn’t think of a strong argument against that but he tried. “I have a claim on him, too,” he said. “He is the one who brought men to take my property. I am seriously convinced he meant to do your sister harm when he arrived. I do have a stake in this.”

  Jeremy nodded, his gaze lingering on Scott for a moment while the world around them was pierced by cries and battle. It was an oddly still moment in the midst of the bedlam before Jeremy finally spoke.

  “Are you in love with her?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  “My sister. Are you in love with her?”

  Something in Scott’s eyes flickered, giving him away, although his expression remained unmoved. “Why would you ask that?”

  Jeremy had to shove a combative soldier away by the face before answering. “I know you lost your wife,” he said, his countenance surprisingly subdued in the midst of combat. “I know I said… well, suffice it to say I should not have brought that up when we were discussing the king’s missive and I suppose, in a fair world, I got what I deserved when you reacted. It is not easy for me to say that, you know, but my father has tried to point out that you’ve had remarkable patience with me since your arrival at Canaan. I suppose he is correct.”

  Here they were, in a middle of a battle, and Jeremy was evidently verging on apologizing for his terrible behavior over the past two weeks. Scott could hardly believe it but he didn’t question it. Perhaps it took something of this magnitude to bring Jeremy around. In that respect, it had been worth it if Jeremy was truly remorseful.

  “We all have our difficulties,” he said. “I cannot say I am the easiest person to be around. For the past four years, I have been… hard. I realize you did not know me before my wife died but, when she was alive, I was not the man you see.”

  “I have heard.”

  “What I mean is that, sometimes, men change when grief is too hard to bear.”

  Jeremy nodded, feeling embarrassed that he’d picked this moment to make peace with de Wolfe. He looked around, thinking on what he would say next but noticing that all around the bailey, the fight seemed to be diminishing. Six hundred Sadgill men were no match for over nineteen hundred Canaan troops. His focus returned to Scott.

  “Nathaniel was the first man other than my father who treated me like I was worthy of his respect,” he said simply. “After his death, I was afraid to lose the respect he gave me. But in my anger, I ended up causing exactly what I had feared. You were right, de Wolfe – you were right all along. I did it to myself. But your compassion to tend a wounded man who had done nothing but make your life miserable showed me that, in spite of everything, you were willing to show some consideration to an enemy when he had shown you absolutely none in return. For that, I hope you will accept my apologies.”

  So it came. The one thing Scott had never expected to hear from Jeremy Huntley – an apology. Faintly, he grinned.

  “For that admission, anything that has happened since my arrival at Canaan has been erased from my memory,” he said. “But you asked a question earlier, the answer of which I hope does not change your mind.”

  “What question?”

  “You asked me if I was in love with your sister.”

  “I did.”

  Scott looked over Jeremy’s shoulder, pointing to Adam, who was now off of his horse and eagerly aiding a fallen Canaan man. “Do you think I would be moving to kill that bastard if I was not?”

  Jeremy looked over his shoulder to see Adam dragging a man through the bloodied mud. With a smirk, he returned his attention to Scott. “I suppose my sister could do worse than you,” he said. “She was very fortunate with Nathaniel the first time. He was a good husband. See that her fortune continues.”

  “I swear it.”

  Jeremy turned slightly so they were now both looking at Adam. “As for him,” Jeremy said, “he betrayed my trust. He betrayed Canaan. It may be your holding, but it is my home. Will you permit me to do the honors?”

  Scott relented. “Be my guest.”

  With a lingering look at Scott, and perhaps a bit of a smirk on his lips, Jeremy turned for Adam, unsheathing his broadsword as he went. Adam had his head down, dragging the soldier out of the fighting, and didn’t see Jeremy coming up behind him. Scott watched with some satisfaction, knowing that Jeremy had the element of surprise, until Jeremy did something unexpected. The arrogant knight in him came forth and he shouted as he closed in on Adam.

  “De Ferrar,” he boomed. “You are a traitor, you dirty bastard, and you shall pay for that treachery with your life!”

  Unfortunately, it was enough of a warning for Adam, startled by Jeremy bearing down on him, to draw forth his broadsword. He did it in such a motion that as Jeremy came down on top of him, Adam came up from underneath and dragged the entire length of his broadsword across Jeremy’s midsection. Adam’s was such a deep cut that Jeremy�
��s innards began spilling out in an explosion of blood and guts. He collapsed into the mud as Adam stood there with a horrified expression on his face, as if he could hardly believe what he’d just done.

  But no one was more shocked than Scott. He still had his broadsword in hand and he charged Adam in a fury, leaping over Jeremy’s supine body and grabbing Adam by the neck. Startled and terrified, Adam lost his grip on his broadsword and it clattered to the earth. In truth, the weapon would have been no use to him as it was because Scott was bent on murder. Even though he was holding his sword, the weapon ended up on the ground next to Adam’s because Scott had the young knight by the neck, both hands wrapped around it, and as he began to squeeze, hissing words emitted from his lips.

  “For your treachery, you shall die,” he said. “But for killing a man you are not worthy of killing, you shall die a most painful death. Look into my eyes, de Ferrar; see my anger and my disgust towards you. I know who you are; I know who your father is. But I cannot believe such a vile beast would have come from Nathaniel du Rennic’s loins.”

  Adam’s eyes were bulging as he struggled for his life. “You – you cannot judge!” he gasped. “You cannot know!”

  Scott spoke through clenched teeth. “You have brought great shame to a great man,” he growled. “Look at me now; I want my face to be the last thing you see in this life and I want Jeremy Huntley’s angry spirit to be the first thing you see in the next. May he haunt you for eternity for what you have done, you worthless bastard, and may Nathaniel ignore you in the next life as he did in this one. You are unworthy to bear anything about him.”

  With that, he threw the forearm of his right arm against the side of Adam’s head, snapping the man’s neck. But that wasn’t good enough. He was so enraged that he ended up twisting Adam’s head all the way around so that it was backwards on his shoulders. Only then did Scott release him, letting him fall into the bloodied mud of the bailey, dead from a twisted and broken neck.

  Scott couldn’t even feel satisfaction at the sight. His rage was not quenched. But his attention shifted from Adam to Jeremy, who lay a few feet away, face down in the mud. Quickly, Scott rushed to Jeremy’s side and lifted him up to see if he was still alive.

  He was.

  Sickened, Scott knelt down beside him, pulling the man into his arms and seeing the devastation of the sword slice across his midsection. It was a gruesome sight. Wiping the mud from Jeremy’s face, he spoke quietly.

  “Huntley?” he said. “Can you hear me?”

  Jeremy’s eyes fluttered open. “Did… did you kill him?”

  Scott nodded. “I ensured he suffered.”

  “Brutal bastard, are you not?”

  “I knew you would approve.”

  A faint smile creased Jeremy’s pale lips. “Where is my father?”

  Scott began looking around in a panic, searching for Gordon but not seeing him. “I do not know,” he said. “But I will find him for you. Hold on, Jeremy. I will return.”

  Jeremy reached up, grabbing hold of his arm. “Nay,” he breathed. “There is no time. I cannot feel my body and I know there is no time left. Tell my father… tell him I am sorry I was a disappointment to him. All I ever wanted to do was make my father proud and I have failed miserably. You will tell him this.”

  Tears sprang to Scott’s eyes. In Jeremy’s final declaration, he could hear his own fears in life – all I ever wanted to do was make my father proud. Aye, Scott understood those words all too well. He, too, had failed miserably to that regard. Like Jeremy, he feared he had failed his father in a very big way.

  “I will tell him, I swear it,” he assured him. “But surely you know that a father’s love is unconditional. I know your father was proud of you.”

  Jeremy looked at him and Scott could see the light fading from those brilliant blue eyes. “You have children, do you not?” he asked.

  “I do. Two sons.”

  “Do they make you proud?”

  Scott broke down, tears popping from his eyes. “I do not know,” he said hoarsely. “I have not seen them in years.”

  Jeremy’s grip on him tightened. “You must see to them,” he said. “Do not let them go through life not knowing if they have made you proud. It is a hellish way to live.”

  Scott swallowed hard as tears coursed down his face. “I will not let them live that way, I promise,” he said. “I will see them.”

  “Tell them you love them.”

  “I will.”

  “Tell my father that I was honored to be… be his… son…”

  With that, the light in the blue eyes went out completely. Jeremy exhaled one last time and his body went still. Scott stared at him a moment, perhaps in shock at the unexpected nature of his passing, before pulling the man against his chest and holding him close.

  He wept.

  But he was not alone in his sorrow. A few feet behind Scott, Stewart stood there with tears coursing down his face, seeing Jeremy gathered in Scott’s arms as the man sobbed over him. Stewart had seen Jeremy fall to Adam’s sword and he’d come running but he’d been too late. Still, he heard the final exchange between Jeremy and Scott and it was something so tragic that he was weeping from the sheer devastation of it. There was so much of Scott’s life wrapped up in Jeremy’s painful words, reflecting his own life and his own sorrows.

  But he was reflecting Scott’s sorrows as well.

  Stewart knew for a fact that Scott hadn’t wept over the deaths of his wife and children. Everyone who knew Scott knew that fact. The man had hardened up, bottled up, and refused to let anything out. He’d run from his family because of it. It was the Scott de Wolfe who had turned into a stone statue, unfeeling and ungiving.

  The Wolfe that lived in the shadows.

  But now, that grief was finding an unexpected outlet from a knight who had more inner demons than even Scott had. In those last moments of Jeremy Huntley’s life, he and Scott were brothers, bonded to the bone, and it was a situation that had carved deep into Scott’s psyche. Perhaps there was something symbolic as Scott wept over Jeremy, holding his body, because Scott had never been able to bring himself to do that with Athena. He’d been afraid of losing control, of being consumed by grief. But now, that grief was coming forth for Athena and Andrew and Beatrice and Jeremy, all of it pouring forth in a waterfall, cleansing and healing as it went.

  Jeremy Huntley’s death was the catalyst for Scott’s healing and Stewart could think of no greater gift from a man who hadn’t done much with his life. For in the end, he did more than he could have possibly hoped for.

  He helped give a man his life back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  It was the calm after the storm.

  Gordon found Scott still sitting on the ground with Jeremy clutched against him. The battle was over and the dead and wounded were being tended to. Gordon had been outside of the northern gatehouse because so many Sadgill men had tried to flee that he had no idea what had happened in the bailey until George had come running for him.

  Something about Jeremy, George had sputtered, and Gordon had taken off at a dead run, leaping over dead bodies and stepping on the living to make it into the bailey where he’d last seen his son. Amongst the dead and dying he saw both de Wolfe and du Rennic knights standing in a semi-circle over near the southern gatehouse, staring at something on the ground.

  And that was when Gordon saw it.

  Jeremy was dead. No one had to tell Gordon that; he could see it for himself. Jeremy’s guts were spilled out all down the front of him in grisly fashion as Scott embraced the man tightly, and Gordon stood there a moment, trembling, before taking the last few unsteady steps towards Scott in disbelief. He pitched onto his knees next to Jeremy, his hands going to his son’s white face as tears fell from his eyes. Like a river, they gushed.

  “Nay,” he breathed. “Not my son. Dear God, not my son.”

  Scott had been staring off into space, his mind numb, so much so that he hadn’t even seen Gordon approach unti
l the man was upon him. He looked at the old man now, his eyes dull with sorrow yet inherent in his sympathy.

  “He died well, Gordon,” he said hoarsely. “He died with honor. You should know that.”

  Gordon bent over his son, the painful sobs coming as he kissed the pale face. “My son,” he wept. “I am so sorry, Jeremy. I am sorry for your unhappiness. I tried to be a better father but I could not be good enough to help you. Forgive me, my son. Forgive.”

  Scott couldn’t help it; he put a hand on Gordon’s head as the man threw himself on Jeremy to offer what comfort he could. Gordon’s cries were cutting him to the bone.

  “You cannot shoulder any blame,” Scott said quietly.

  Gordon was distraught. “I tried. I tried so hard.”

  Scott patted the man on the head. “Gordon, listen to me,” he said. He would have wept, too, at the terrible scene but he was all out of tears. He’d cried as much as he possibly could. “Jeremy told me to tell you something. Will you listen?”

  Somewhere in the implosion of his mind, Gordon understood Scott’s words. He nodded. “My poor son,” he cried. “What did he have to say to me? Words of despair, of hatred? What did he tell you?”

  Scott voice was soft. “He apologized for being a disappointment to you,” he said. “He was sorry he had never made you proud and he said it was an honor to have been your son.”

  Gordon kissed Jeremy’s face again. “Did he truly say such things?”

  “He did.”

  “No anger?”

  “No anger.”

  Gordon stroked Jeremy’s dark hair. “He was not a disappointment,” he finally whispered. “He has secrets and fears that I could not help him with. It is I who have failed him, truly. I did not know how to help him.”

  Having sons of his own, Scott could only imagine how he would feel if one of his own adult sons had perished. The son he’d lost, Andrew, had been so young that he’d not yet lived his life. There was sorrow in that, of course, but losing an adult son, a boy having grown into a man… surely that was the worst kind of grief and, in that sense, Scott understood Gordon’s pain as one father to another. He’d faced his own moment like this four years ago when his father had tried to speak to him through his haze of agony. He hadn’t listened to the man. Now, he could only hope that Gordon would listen to him.