That was why this day was so important to the Hage family as well as the de Wolfe family; it would see two of their children bonded in marriage, a bright spot in a rather dismal year. Even now, Jemma could see Kieran out in the snow, being hit by snowballs by some rowdy children, and then firing back snowballs that ended up hitting Penelope in the side of the head, getting snow in her ear.
As Penelope burst into tears, Uncle Kieran was at her side, soothing her and helping her pick snow out of her ear. Jemma knew the man would suffer unimaginable guilt for the rest of the day for hitting Penelope in the ear with a well-aimed snowball. He was just that sensitive.
“I hear Penny wailing,” Jordan said, setting her sewing down completely and peering from the window to see her daughter crying with Kieran at her side. “What happened tae my lass this time?”
This time. Penelope de Wolfe, a very late baby for her mother and father, and the youngest de Wolfe child, was also the child who ruled the roost. Her parents doted on her, and she was a bright and beautiful girl. But she was also terribly spoiled, and anything that didn’t go her way usually resulted in tears or a tantrum. Jordan had long learned not to run to her daughter’s side every time the girl made a sound, but her husband hadn’t yet developed that restraint. Even with Kieran at Penelope’s side, William pulled himself away from his grandchildren to see what had Penelope so upset. Jordan shook her head in resignation.
“The lass will never learn tae stand for herself if William runs tae her every time she utters a peep.” Jordan sighed, sitting down and collecting her sewing again. “I fear for the day she marries; I truly do. I am not sure what William will do when he canna have her by his side, always.”
Caladora looked up from her sewing. “He clings tae all of his children these days,” she said quietly. “It is not simply Penelope.”
“What do ye mean?”
Caladora didn’t say anything for a moment because it was something they all knew, something not readily spoke of. “Because of Scott.”
Jordan’s pleasant mood sank at the mention of the son she’d not seen in years. Even the mention of his name brought a lump to her throat, but she fought it. Today was a joyful day and she wouldn’t let thoughts of her absent son spoil that.
“William has made amends with Scott,” she said quietly. “He’s gone tae Castle Canaan where Scott is in command and he’s spoken tae him. They’ve said what needed tae be said.”
Caladora looked at her. “But what about ye? Have ye yet said what needed tae be said tae him?”
It was a familiar argument and Jordan turned back to her sewing. “Ye know I havena,” she said. “I’ve not seen my son since he left Questing those years ago.”
“Will ye go and see him, then?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “He knows where I am. If he wants tae make amends with me, then he’ll come. ’Tis not for me to seek him out.”
Caladora had heard that attitude before and she didn’t like it; it irked her. “At least ye still have yer sons, Jordie,” she said. “At least ye can go tae him. I canna say that I still have my daughters, but if I did, no matter how far away from me they were, I wouldna let any more time pass without seeing them again. If something happens tae Scott tomorrow, ye’d be miserable the rest of yer life.”
At the window, Jemma glanced at the pair as they skimmed the surface of a volatile conversation. It was such a sad situation, truly, something that affected all of them so deeply. It was a situation that had started four years ago when the eldest sons of William and Jordan, twins Scott and Troy, had both lost their wives and several of their children in a terrible drowning accident.
Compounding the issue was that the wives had been two of Paris and Caladora’s daughters. The women and their younger children, four in all, had been traveling by coach to Berwick when a bridge gave way and dumped all of them into a swollen river. Both wives and all four children had perished, leaving devastation of two families in their wake.
It had been a terrible time for all concerned.
As Paris and Caladora had lost themselves in their grief, Scott and Troy had each dealt with their loss quite different. Troy had thrown himself into battle, into his duties, anything to work through the pain of losing his wife and two youngest children, while Scott had simply run away. That was the last he’d see of Questing and of his entire family, save his father.
William had kept track of his son no matter where the man had gone. William had even written to the king for assistance with Scott. Rather than see the man wander aimlessly, which he did for the first year, the king had given him a command at a strategic castle in Cumbria. Scott had settled in and eventually married the widow of the man who used to command the castle. When William heard of the marriage, he’d gone to see Scott and old wounds were healed. But Jordan was correct; Scott had remained away from Questing, and all of the memories there, since the day he’d left.
She wondered if she would ever see him again.
But at least her loss wasn’t what Caladora’s had been. The woman had lost two of her beloved daughters and Jordan knew that hers was the greater loss. But sometimes, Jordan felt Scott’s absence as painfully as if he had died.
In a sense, the old Scott had.
“I know, lass,” Jordan said after a moment, reaching out to lay a hand on her cousin’s arm as she reflected on the past four years. “What ye’ve suffered is beyond all human endurance. I dinna mean tae compare yer loss tae mine. But sometimes… sometimes I feel as if Scott has died. He’s not the same man, my sweet and funny lad. I havena seen him in years. I fear that he will never return tae Questing. Too many terrible memories for him. Sometime I wonder if I am part of those terrible memories.”
Caladora clasped Jordan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. As women, they suffered in silence sometimes. It was their job to be stronger than the rest, to show courage and fortitude in situations that would crumble others. But among themselves, they could let their guards down. Jordan squeezed Caladora’s hand in return, her focus turning to her pale cousin.
“How are ye, lass?” she asked her cousin softly. “We’ve not spoken of Athena and Helene in some time.”
Caladora sighed faintly. “I have days when I feel as if everything is so dark, that I canna get out of bed,” she admitted. “But Paris… he dunna think I know but, sometimes, I hear him weeping. Whenever he sees the older children of Helene and Athena, he weeps. I think he still feels as if he’s failed his daughters. He thinks he should have been there tae save them.”
It was a painful admission of a parent’s guilt. Jordan understood it well. “William has spoken tae me of his regrets,” she said. “When he sees Scott’s older lads, Will and Tommy, and Troy’s son, Andreas, he regrets that they lost their mothers at such a young age. I believe he, too, feels guilt that he wasna there tae save them.”
Hushed words spoken about a terrible tragedy. Before the mood grew too dark and painful, Jordan took a deep breath and picked up her sewing.
“So, we remember Athena and Helene and the children tonight,” she said with renewed fortitude. “We remember them at the marriage so that even in spirit, they are with us.”
Caladora simply nodded, not feeling particularly enthusiastic now that memories of her dead daughters and grandchildren were heavy on her mind. But Jemma, who had been watching the exchange, came away from the window, her focus on her cousins.
“Of course they are with us,” she said. “Callie, I dinna tell ye because I wanted it tae be a surprise, but Rosie’s wedding dress has ribbon on it that was on Athena’s wedding dress. It also has a sash that I took from Helene’s dress. Paris gave them tae me. I wanted tae honor the lasses in such a way. I hope ye dunna mind.”
Caladora’s head came up, her blue eyes brimming with tears. “’Tis a beautiful thought, Jemma,” she said sincerely. “I dunna mind at all.”
Jemma went to her cousin and gave the woman a squeeze. “Rosie is most excited for the ceremony tonight and tae show ye
her dress,” she said. “Act surprised when she tells ye. She wanted tae surprise ye, too.”
Caladora sniffled, flicking away the tears that threatened. “I’ll act surprised,” she said. “I might even give her a good cry. Do ye think she’ll like that?”
Jemma grinned. “She’ll love it,” she said. Then, she moved back over to the window where the snowball fight was starting to dwindle. “Looks as if Penny has come inside, Jordie. Ye may want tae see tae her ear.”
Jordan set her sewing aside yet again and rose from her seat. “I dunna know why I should go,” she said. “William is probably doing all the mothering tae the lass that she’ll ever need.”
Jemma grinned. “I dunna see William out in the yard, either.”
Jordan snorted. “See? What did I tell ye.” She sighed heavily and headed for the door. “Mayhap, I’d better go see tae my lass. Her da’s sympathy only goes so far sometimes.”
As the woman headed from the solar, Jemma and Caladora were smiling, each woman settling back to her sewing. It wasn’t just William who doted on his children; Paris and Kieran did enough of it, too. After Penelope was born, Kieran had even hinted at wanting to have another child, but Jemma wouldn’t hear of it; with six children already, her childbearing days were over, much to her husband’s disappointment.
But Jemma had to admit… sometimes, she wished she’d had just one more child. Watching William with Penelope had given her that longing. After all, Kieran deserved a lass to spoil and dote on, too. What was one more spoiled half-Scottish lass to rule the roost at Questing?
Jemma grinned at the mental image, something she could only wonder about now.
But it would have been fun to see.
PART TWO
HIS ROSE
Tall, handsome, blond, and blue-eyed, James de Wolfe was in the stableyard on this bright winter’s day, watching a groom lead a very young Belgian warmblood around the yard. This was his new horse, one he intended to train for battle, because the beast came from fine bloodlines and was strong and spirited. But the stablemaster thought the horse had a bad hip because of the way he tended to stand, so James was watching the horse as it was walked around the yard, listening to the stablemaster tell him why the horse’s gait was odd.
It wasn’t exactly the type of activity a groom should be doing only a few hours before his wedding, but James wasn’t even sure he would be married today considering how heavy the snow was. The roads were piled high with the stuff, making it very difficult to travel, and his brothers had departed for Kelso yesterday and still hadn’t returned. A trip like that normally took a morning to complete, there and back. Therefore, James wasn’t entirely sure when the marriage would take place. Spending time in the stable was simply a way of burning off his anxiety.
He was rather eager to marry his Rose.
As he stood there and watched the horse walk by, Kevin Hage and Andreas de Wolfe entered the stableyard and demanded their horses. Big, muscular Kevin was James’ cousin while Andreas was his nephew, eldest son of his brother, Troy.
James merely waved at the pair as they collected their horses and raced off just as William entered the yard. He then glanced over at his father, wrapped up in heavy tunics and a woolen cloak that, as he came closer, appeared to be soaking wet. James frowned.
“Why are you all wet?” he asked the man. “You’d better take that cloak off before Mother sees you. After the lung sickness you had last year, you should know better.”
William simply grinned at his son; the man was still tall, dark, and handsome, even in his advancing years, and he was still powerful enough that most men couldn’t best him in battle. The legendary Wolfe of the Border was still a force to be reckoned with, except when it came to his wife. She was the one force that could overpower his own, so he took his son’s statement seriously.
“We were playing in the snow,” he said. “By the way – Rosie can throw a snowball that can disable a grown man, so I would be careful if I were you should she throw anything at you.”
James chuckled. “She already has,” he said. “I am fast enough to dodge it, fortunately.”
William’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you mean to say you are making the woman angry enough to throw something at you and you aren’t even married yet?”
James began to laugh; it was one of his personality traits, this impish laugh that would easily come over him.
“It takes very little to make her angry,” he said. “She is much like her mother in that respect, but I have learned well from Uncle Kieran. He tells me that the angrier she becomes, the more groveling I must do.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. He also says to spank her when all else fails.”
Now, William started to chuckle. “He is a very wise man,” he said. “And speaking of wise men, I came to tell you that we believe your brothers have been sighted in the distance. With the clearness of the day, they are still a mile or so out, but we can easily see them against the white landscape. We are watching the approach now.”
James felt both relief and excitement at that statement. “So they made it, did they?” he said. “I was coming to wonder if they would.”
William nodded, seeing the pleasure in his son’s face. It was sweet, really; James was very much in love with the spirited Rose, a love story they’d all watched unfold for the past two years, ever since Rose began to blossom into a woman and grew past the phase where she would rather punch a boy than be nice to him.
James was several years older than Rose was and only knew her as that rough-and-tumble little girl, but when she’d hit her sixteenth birthday, something changed – suddenly, rough-and-tumble Rosie became curvaceous, beautiful Rosie and James wasn’t blind to the fact. A sweet romance had blossomed from the seeds of friendship and, now, Rose and James were about to embark on their married lives together.
William couldn’t have been happier.
“You were not the only one questioning whether or not they would arrive,” he said to his son. “Kieran and some of the others were talking about heading out to find them.”
James shook his head. “Uncle Kieran should not be exerting himself like that,” he said. “You know what the physic said.”
William sobered dramatically; he didn’t like to be reminded of his dearest friend’s health problem. “I do,” he said. “Luckily, we do not have to worry about him overextending himself. But… there is something I want to say to you before your brothers arrive with the priest. After that, I fear I might not have another chance before Rosie takes you away from me.”
James turned to his father, a smile playing on his lips. “What about, Papa?” he asked. “The ways of men and women? You are too late. I already know what I am supposed to do on my wedding night.”
William chuckled. “Bloody hell, who told you? Was it Paris? Whatever he told you is a lie. Women do not like to be tied down and spanked.”
James couldn’t stop laughing. “That is not what he told me they liked.”
“What was it, then?”
“If I tell you, you will only punch him.”
“I may punch him still. What did he tell you, James?”
James knew the two older knights would go at it, genuinely, if William was mad enough, so he put his hands on his father to calm the man down. “He only told me to be patient,” he said. “I swear it. Now, what did you want to tell me, Papa?”
William looked at his son; he was his fourth son, the twin to his first daughter, Katheryn. When the pair had been born, James had struggled for his first few weeks, fighting to live. He didn’t eat well and slept constantly, and William remembered the very real fear of losing his child. But the infant had lived and, eventually, thrived. Today, he was one of the finest and most powerful knights the north had ever seen.
But it was more than that for William – James didn’t have the fiery passion about battle and warfare that his older three had. Scott, Troy, and Patrick were the consummate knights, living and breathing battle. James
could match any of his brothers’ prowess in a fight, but he had something more that they didn’t – compassion for the enemy, a deep compassion that, at times, had turned him into a brooding and moody man. James felt more deeply than most, was more patient than Job himself, and would much rather negotiate his way out of a fight than quickly draw arms. They were such wonderful qualities and William adored his boy for them. He had a soft spot for James and his wise, gentle ways.
What did he want to tell him? Gazing into his handsome face, there were so many things that came to mind. He’d had to have this same talk with Scott, Troy, and Patrick before their weddings but, somehow with James, it was different. He just wanted to hug the man and hold him close. After a moment, he put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“I wanted to tell you how proud I am of the man you have become,” he said, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat where, moments before, there had been laughter. “After today, you will go forth to become the head of your own family, and I want to tell you how proud I am of you. I have watched a skinny, pale young man with a silly giggle grow into a man of such character and strength. It has been a privilege watching you become the man I see before me, James. I wanted you to know that.”
James hasn’t expected those words from his father. In fact, he began to tear up and, by the time William was finished, he threw his arms around his father’s neck and hugged him tightly. For a moment, he simply couldn’t speak.
“I love you, Da,” he said hoarsely. “You are the greatest man I have ever known, the man I most wish to emulate. Know that I will do my best to always be like you and to always honor you and the de Wolfe name. I shall not fail, I swear it, nor will any of my sons. We will all make you proud.”
A Very Medieval Christmas: A Medieval Romance Novella Bundle Page 2
