The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7)

by Christine Pope

  As soon as he caught sight of me, he moved in my direction, hands outstretched. “My Bettany! How beautiful you are!”

  A great fire was roaring in the enormous hearth, but it was not its heat that sent a flush to my cheeks. “Thank you, my lord. I did want to please you.”

  “Oh, you have.” His eyes raked me up and down, and I had little doubt what was passing though his mind in that moment.

  And why should it not? I would soon be his wife, after all, and there was certainly nothing wrong with having impure thoughts about one’s wife. “You are looking very fine today as well, my lord,” I responded, hoping I sounded dignified and gracious, as befitted the lady of the castle.

  At any rate, my compliment was nothing more than the truth. He wore a doublet of dark green velvet, one I had never seen before, and a heavy silver chain set with faceted jet was draped over his shoulders. Truly, he looked so grand that he might very well have been setting forth to the Mark’s courts in Tarenmar.

  But no, he was not going anywhere, not with the storm that still raged around us. He had donned this finery for his wedding day, and my heart warmed that he had taken such trouble. Whether that effort had been made for my benefit, or because it would have looked odd to Master Merryk and the captain of his guards if he had not, I could not say.

  I had to leave off my pondering, however, for he took me by the hand and led me closer to the fire, where the other two men waited for us. The question had come to me before this, but I had not had a chance to ask it of Phelan until now.

  “And who will marry us?” I murmured. “For I see no priest here.”

  “Not precisely,” he replied, in the same undertone. “But Collyer here studied to be a priest of Inyanna, and even took his vows, before he realized that was not a life for him, and that he wished to carry arms instead. Even so, Inyanna’s blessing was not taken away from him, and so he is able to perform the ceremony.”

  This explanation did calm me somewhat, even while I thought the situation rather irregular. Of course it’s irregular, I told myself. You are marrying a man far above your station after knowing him for not even a fortnight. There is absolutely nothing “regular” about this situation at all.

  That was true enough, although I knew we had gone too far to stop anything now. Not that I would have tried, even if such a thing had lain within my powers. For all the strangeness that surrounded us, I wanted to be Phelan’s wife, no matter what else happened. Indeed, there were times back in Kerolton when a priest was not able to make the journey to our little hamlet, and so the eldest person in the village read the vows. Such ceremonies were still considered binding. At least this Collyer had undergone the training to be a priest, even if he had changed his mind about his true vocation.

  “That is convenient,” I said, then wondered whether I should have kept the comment to myself. I did not wish Phelan to think that I was being sarcastic. Truly, I had said the first thing that came into my mind, for I was desperately attempting to sound calm and unworried, despite my racing heart.

  If he thought anything amiss about the remark, he gave no indication. My words only brought forth a smile to his lips, one that made my knees go weak, and he nodded slightly. “Yes, it is convenient.” Straightening, he turned toward the two men, both of whom had been standing there in silence, waiting for us to be ready.

  Although Phelan had spoken no words, Collyer seemed to understand that the time had come. He moved toward us, then gave a grave nod. When he spoke, his voice was measured and calm, still with the smooth intonations of his priestly training. Whether he used the same tones when commanding his men, I had no idea, but at least I did not have to worry about being barked at while reciting my marriage vows.

  It was an old, old ceremony, one that went so far back people said it had been handed down from the gods themselves. I had no way of knowing if that was the truth or not. In my mind, I thought it rather something conjured by men so they might be certain of their wives’ fidelity, but of course I had never dared to utter such a heretical opinion out loud. Despite my doubts as to the ceremony’s origins, I could not help but find myself relaxing somewhat as I heard the familiar words once again, words I had never thought would apply to me. But here I was, standing next to Phelan as Master Merryk stepped forward with the ritual cloth and handed it to Collyer so he might wrap the piece of fine linen around his lordship’s and my wrists, symbolizing the manner in which we would be eternally bound to one another.

  After Collyer removed the cloth from our wrists, he went to the hearth and dropped it into the fire so it might be burnt to ash, with no way of knowing which part had been bound to me and which had been bound to Phelan. I had heard that in true temples, a special brazier was reserved solely for this purpose, but back home the linen was always placed either in a bonfire or in the hearth of the home where the ceremony was being performed, depending on the season.

  And then it was time for Phelan to place his lips on mine, to seal the bond that had been created between us. As soon as our mouths touched, my entire body flushed with heat, even though the kiss was quite chaste, very unlike the impassioned embraces we had previously shared. Well, I could not fault my new husband for his restraint; we did have his steward and his chief man-at-arms looking on, and such a display would not have been appropriate.

  “Congratulations,” Master Merryk said as soon as Phelan and I had parted. “The cooks have been preparing quite a feast for you, my lord and my lady. We will have it brought up to your suite.”

  Even though I had prepared myself for this new reality, it was something to think of Phelan’s sumptuous chambers as being my new home. A shiver went through me, although my husband did not seem to notice.

  “Thank you for that, Master Merryk,” he said. “I will escort my new bride there, and we look forward to what you have to serve us.” He turned toward me and offered his arm, and I took it. With no more ceremony than that, he led me out of the hall and to the staircase. We had not ascended more than a few steps before he slanted an amused glance down at me and spoke again. “I trust that was not too terrible? I know you wanted to have your grandmother here to see you wed, but of course that was not possible. However, I also had the idea that you would not much appreciate having my men-at-arms as your witnesses, and so I kept the ceremony modest.”

  “That was thoughtful of you, Phelan,” I replied. “I must confess that I was not looking forward to marrying you in front of all of them. And since we had Master Merryk as our witness, nothing else was required.”

  His dark eyes glinted, taking on a certain warmth I had begun to recognize. “Well, nothing besides this.” Then he did bend down and kiss me, thoroughly this time, his arms around me, his mouth open to mine so we might taste one another again. The world seemed to sway and dance, and I was glad he held me so closely, or else I might have lost my balance. When he lifted his mouth from mine, he added, “That was how I wished to kiss my beautiful new wife. But I did not wish to shock my steward, and so I forbore until we could be alone.”

  “That was…wise,” I said, sounding more than a little breathless. I found I didn’t mind all that much. I wanted Phelan to know he took my breath away.

  “Come, my dear,” he said then. “It would not do for the servants to find us here on the steps, skulking like a footman stealing a kiss from one of the scullery maids. Let me show you your new home.”

  Only in this house, there are no scullery maids, I thought as Phelan led me up the stairs to his apartments. Will that change, now that I am his wife? And what of a lady’s maid? For I had a vague notion that the wife of someone as grand as Phelan Greymount of Harrow Hall should have a woman to attend her, although I had no idea what I would do to keep her occupied. I could already manage my hair, my wardrobe. What else would be needed?

  I pushed those concerns aside, however, as Phelan guided me down the corridor that terminated in the double doors to his suite. He pushed open one of those doors, saying, “All this is for you.”
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  When I gazed inside, I could not help letting out a gasp. Yes, I had seen these rooms before, but now they blazed with candlelight, which was reflected in the polished surfaces of the furniture and lent an extra warmth to the heavy velvet curtains at the windows and the hangings on the walls.

  All those candles, when we had been snowbound for so many days. I could not help but wonder at the extravagance of the sight, even as my heart leaped that Phelan would do this for me.

  “I can see it in your face, my dear,” he said. “It is nothing to concern yourself over. We had a great store of candles here, far more than we could use all winter. I wanted to give you some light, when so much in our world has been darkness lately.”

  What could I say to that? Nothing, not when he had made such a gesture on my behalf. But my gratitude and love must have shone forth from my face, for he bent and kissed me deeply, his hands cupping my face as if he held the most precious of jewels between his palms.

  “Now, my love,” he told me, “let us go in.”

  Chapter 12

  There was wine, of course, which we drank from fine goblets of exquisite glass that had come all the way from Sirlende. I did not have much experience with that liquor, for in Kerolton we did not have such luxuries. But that wine…it slid down my throat, heavy and dark, promising even greater abandonments later that night. Perhaps I should have been more cautious about drinking it, but why? I was here with Phelan, my husband. I did not have to worry about offering the wrong impression or compromising my virtue. That “virtue,” such as it was, would be abandoned to him soon enough.

  But first there was the promised dinner, brought up by Master Merryk himself and two of the manservants, a feast that required all three of them to carry in the covered dishes and platters and arrange them on the sideboard in the dining area. For there was a dining area, one off the sitting room where Phelan and I had held our first conversation, on a day that now felt years in the past rather than barely a week. Linsi and Doxen already waited there, eyes gleaming, although they were too well-trained to get underfoot, and instead lay curled around one another in a corner, clearly hoping they might be treated with some scraps once the steward had gone and they were no longer under his watchful eye.

  Phelan and I also waited off to one side while Master Merryk and the other two servants bustled about, and then we were left alone, in a room shimmering with candlelight and filled with the aroma of all manner of delectable food. By then we had already drunk some of the wine, which had been poured into a decanter, but Phelan added an inch or two to my half-empty glass, then pulled out a chair.

  “My lady,” he said.

  It was strange to hear him call me that, and stranger still to realize that anyone I met from now on would address me in a similar fashion. When I returned to Kerolton to see my grandmother, I would be there as Lady Greymount, not simple Bettany Sendris. Assuming I ever went back to the village that had been almost the entirety of my existence until a short week ago. Something about this storm made it seem as if the rest of the world had somehow disappeared, that Phelan and I and the rest of his household floated in a dream-castle adrift in a sea of snow. A mere fancy, I knew; eventually, even this monumental blizzard would spend itself, and the world would become real once again.

  I shook off the notion, and smiled up at Phelan as I took my seat. “Thank you, my lord.”

  He sat down, mouth quirking somewhat. “You are very formal, my lady.”

  “I think many would deem this a formal occasion, my lord.”

  Those words elicited a laugh, and he raised his glass toward me. “I suppose they would,” he said, “but I hope you will not always be so formal.”

  “We will have to see, I suppose,” I replied. But I couldn’t prevent my lips from curving upward in a smile even as I spoke.

  “Ah,” he said. “That smile is not formal at all. In fact, I think many would say it was not even proper. I had no idea you had such a wicked streak, Bettany.”

  “Do I?” I inquired, my expression all innocence. “No one has ever accused me of that before.”

  “Which only reinforces my belief that all the men in your village are dolts, or at the very least deficient in their eyesight. But no matter. I suppose I should be grateful for their stupidity, as it preserved you for me.”

  This last was said with such good humor that I couldn’t help but laugh, even as I wondered what those same men would think if they ever found out that their lord had called them stupid dolts. Well, since Phelan was their master, I supposed they would keep their opinions to themselves. All the same, it did amuse me somewhat to think of their discomfiture, considering their less-than-noble treatment of me. I had to confess that I would rather enjoy seeing the expression on Master Wisengot’s face, once he realized that the woman he’d thought barely worthy of him was now married to the lord of Harrow Hall.

  “But enough of that,” my husband went on. “We should eat before this food gets cold. I do not want to think of Master Merryk and the rest of the servants going to such trouble, only for us to waste their efforts.”

  “Of course,” I said quickly. “It all looks marvelous.”

  Phelan smiled and lifted several pieces of venison, dripping some sort of richly scented sauce, onto my plate. Almost as soon as the meat touched the metal surface, Linsi and Doxen moved from their place in the corner and deposited themselves so close to my feet that I could feel Doxen’s tail thump against the hem of my gown.

  This behavior was rewarded with a stern glance from my husband, but because he said no word to send the dogs away, I guessed that he was not a particularly stern taskmaster when it came to making sure his pets were not underfoot during mealtime. While some might have thought less of him for being so lax, I found myself glad that he allowed the dogs to remain close by. In the past, my grandmother had scolded me for giving tidbits to the cat, saying that by doing so, I made him far less likely to chase rats and mice. Her remonstrances had some logic to them, I was forced to admit, but I did tend to ignore her advice and continued to feed the cat treats when I knew my grandmother wasn’t looking.

  “Do you mind them?” Phelan asked after he had finished heaping all sorts of delicacies on my plate, including a mound of mashed turnips swimming with butter. “They will go back to their corner, if you wish.”

  “No, please have them stay,” I replied, bending down to scratch behind Linsi’s ears with my free hand. “They are not in the way at all. I only hope you will not scold me too badly if I feed them the occasional scrap.”

  “I will not scold you if you show me the same forbearance. They have been my constant companions for nearly five years now, and so I fear I may have been more indulgent with them than I should.”

  “How could I rebuke you for showing them affection? That can only make me think better of you, not worse.”

  His gaze warmed as he looked at me, and he set down his fork so he might lift his wine glass in salute. “Then let us drink to showing affection, shall we? For I know I do not wish to be a distant husband to you, the way some are.”

  I did not think there was much risk of that, if the way he had kissed me previously was any indication. But I raised my wine glass as well, then said, “I hope you will be able to show me such a thing very soon.”

  My remark caused him to laugh, and once again I thought I saw that golden glint in his eyes. “There it is again,” he said. “That wicked streak. Ah, how you please me, Bettany.”

  Blood rushed to my cheeks as I thought of the several ways such a remark could be interpreted. I supposed I would find out soon enough exactly what he had meant. To cover my discomfiture, I asked, “Did you ever think we would be here like this when I stumbled upon your doorstep?”

  “No,” he replied frankly. “But then, when you were first brought in, I fear you did rather resemble a drowned rat. It was only after you were on the mend that I realized what a rare and lovely creature the gods had seen fit to send me.”

  How I was suppos
ed to reply to such praise, I had no true idea. Truthfully, I was not much in the habit of receiving compliments, especially from men. Those who had wanted me had no time for wooing, apparently thinking I should be grateful to receive any sort of attention at all. Although I had done my best to forget it, Clem Wisengot’s singularly inelegant proposal rose in my thoughts then. You should be my wife, he had said, for no one else will have you, and, despite your other shortcomings, your face is pleasant enough.

  The memory was enough to make my mouth twitch, and Phelan raised an eyebrow. “What is it, my love?”

  “Nothing,” I replied. “Nothing important, that is. I was just thinking of how Clem Wisengot had made sure to mention my shortcomings when he asked me to be his wife.”

  “How very peculiar. I cannot say that I have an inordinate amount of experience on the subject, but I am fairly certain that it is not generally considered good form to insult a woman when asking her to marry you.”

  I could only chuckle. “I suppose Master Wisengot believed himself to be such a catch — and so far above me — that he saw no need to sweeten the offer. But the expression of consternation on his face when I refused him was well worth the sting of the original insult.”

  “As I said earlier, dolts. Foolish dolts.” Phelan drank some of his wine before adding, “But I am sorry you were subjected to such a speech.”

  “It did not sting overmuch. I was used to it by then.”

  My husband’s dark, level brows pulled together, and his mouth tightened. “When I hear you say things like that, I find myself wishing to go to this village of yours and raze it to the ground.”

  Although I knew of course he would never actually do such a thing, I found myself rushing to Kerolton’s defense. “Oh, but they are not all like Master Wisengot! Amery Willar is a very fine man, and so is Master Branner, the miller. And Mistress Overlin makes very good pottery, and my grandmother herself — ”

  “Enough,” Phelan cut in with a laugh. “You do not need to enumerate all their singular qualities. I believe you when you say there is enough in Kerolton that is worth saving. All the same,” he went on, mouth curling slyly, “I doubt you would shed too many tears if Master Merryk were to find some reason why Clem Wisengot’s taxes might be raised ever so slightly.”