Medieval Wolfe Boxed Set: A De Wolfe Connected World Collection of Victorian and Medieval Tales

by Alexa Aston

  Sometime later, they walked back to the front of the keep. Beatrice glanced at her husband. His lips curved with satisfaction at having brought her to culmination more than once. “I am not sure the walk in the garden should always end as today.” She mocked him. “What would people think?”

  “They will think their Lord is a very lucky man, indeed.”

  Beatrice laughed.

  “Your Grace. A messenger has arrived.” A guard met them at the door. “From the Duke of Aldorf.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  When they entered the great room, Torquil, Sinclair and Oscar were already positioned to flank him. The intimidating lineup before him, the messenger had beads of sweat forming on his brow and upper lip as his rounded eyes followed Gavin who came to stand between his brother and Oscar.

  Unfortunately, just as tall and broad as the others, it made the poor messenger’s eyes grow larger. “My Lord,” the messenger lowered his head.

  “Tell me your message.” Gavin spoke, keeping his voice level as a trickle of apprehension traveled down his spine. Whatever was Aldorf up to now?

  The messenger cleared his throat. “His Grace sends his good wishes and congratulations on the occasion of your marriage. He wishes to inform you his brother has been bestowed the title of Duke of Elshire.” The messenger took a breath. “He also wishes to invite you to attend the celebration ball a fortnight hence.”

  “So he is informing us that he is no longer a threat to our lord’s title?” Torquil asked the messenger, who stood rigid. “You did not address him properly.”

  “I-I apologize, Your Grace.” Once again, the messenger bowed his head. “I am rather nervous, you see.”

  Gavin gave Torquil a dull glance. “Very well, messenger. Remain through tomorrow. Sup with us this evening. I will give you a message for the duke in the morning.”

  Properly dismissed, the young man practically sprinted from the room.

  “Where do you think he goes?” Sinclair asked, watching the messenger disappear.

  “Probably to piss and then to ask the guards where he can lay down and get over his nerves.”

  “Should we send him some herbs to sniff?” Oscar asked, chuckling.

  Beatrice, who’d remained silent and sat at one of the tables, shook her head. “You scared him witless.” She looked to Gavin. “What will you reply?”

  He could see she was considering the possibilities of attending an elegant affair. Women tended to see the more subtle side of things. Dresses, music and such. While he had to confer with Sinclair and Torquil and decide what the true reason behind the invitation was.

  “It would behoove you for Beatrice to be with child by the time of the ball,” Torquil said later as they remained in the great room alone now. “Perhaps, send our own messenger informing him of why she can’t travel.”

  “Would it be a good idea for me to attend alone then?” Gavin asked.

  Oscar leaned forward. “It would be a perfect occasion to be killed with hopes Beatrice gives birth to a girl.”

  “It’s not the title Aldorf lusts after. It’s the fact that you were titled and he is not the only one in Cumbria with power. You have vast lands, faithful people and are well liked.”

  “Jealousy? I doubt it. De Wolfe, has a larger stronghold on the area than I.” Gavin threw his hands up. “I wish to live in peace and take care of my people. Men like Aldorf, who live a life of leisure off the work of those they govern, are an annoyance. If anyone should be killed…” he left the sentence hanging.

  “Truer words are not spoken,” Torquil said. “However, we must proceed with delicacy. Not attending without a good reason would look badly upon you. Attending alone, although dangerous, could be a better option. Sinclair and I can go with you while Oscar and the guard watch over the keep.”

  Oscar looked to Torquil. “I am not sure I’ll be accepted as a leader yet. I have only arrived.”

  “The guards see your strength and know you are loyal as your sister married our lord. They already respect you.” Torquil left no room for argument. “Now let’s discuss what we should do.”

  Throughout the evening meal, Beatrice kept stealing glances at her husband. Brow crinkled, he was distracted. He barely touched his food as he scanned the room constantly.

  “Is something wrong?” she whispered into this ear.

  “I am not sure,” he replied and then leaned away. “Where is the messenger?” he asked Torquil, who also began to look over the people in attendance.

  The warrior stood and left. Moments later, several of the guard followed him out.

  “Do you think he left?” Beatrice looked to Gavin. “Quite strange, don’t you think?”

  A short time later, Torquil returned and leaned into Gavin. “He’s dead. I believe he killed himself. In his hand was a dagger used to cut open his own throat.”

  Beatrice swallowed. “Why?”

  “To make it look as if we did it.” Gavin stood and motioned Torquil to follow. Several people in the room took notice, but returned to eating. The only ones who did not were several of the guard who stood and followed their Lord out.

  Alone at the high board, Beatrice studied her food unsure of what to do next. Finally, she motioned Grisilda over. The young girl normally ate at one of the tables with some of the village girls.

  “What happens?” Grisilda sat gingerly when Beatrice yanked her arm to pull her down. “I am not sure I should sit here.”

  “Hush. Tell me. Did anyone see the messenger today after he left the great room?”

  Grisilda shrugged. “I saw him speaking to one of the guardsmen, Liam, the red-haired one. Then later, he was getting water from the well. I figured he was going to bathe before eating.”

  Interesting. “Did you or any of the maids speak to him?”

  “I do believe he asked for soap and cloths from the stable hands.”

  “I see.” Beatrice got up. “Come with me.”

  It made no sense that if a man planned to kill himself, he would wash up beforehand. Not only that, why would the young man agree to such a thing? She supposed under threat that people could be driven to almost anything.

  Outside, the guard stood in two lines as Gavin spoke. Liam stood on the end, his gaze moving from Gavin to Oscar before narrowing.

  Beatrice took Grisilda’s hand and pulled her toward the stable. Inside, the older man who watched over the horses greeted them with a cheerful wave. “Good eve, Milady, what brings you to my humble stables?”

  “I have a question for you,” Beatrice said and neared the man. He nodded in agreement.

  “Of course.”

  “Did you speak to the messenger?”

  “Aye, Milady, I did. Quite a nice lad. He asked for soap and cloths so he could wash up for the evening meal.”

  “Did he say when he planned to return?”

  “Yes, Milady. He said on the morrow. He was anxious, as he was nervous about Liam. The man enjoys intimidating others.”

  “I see. Thank you.” Beatrice let out a breath. “The messenger is dead.”

  The old man crossed himself. “Too bad. He was a nice young lad.”

  They walked back to the courtyard and she motioned Gavin over. Sinclair followed him, while Torquil and Oscar continued speaking to the guard.

  “The messenger did not kill himself. He was killed.” Beatrice looked from one brother to the other and explained everything she’d learned.

  “It makes little sense,” Sinclair said in a low tone lest they be heard. “Why would Liam or anyone kill the young man?”

  “Who was second in command before Oscar arrived?”

  Sinclair’s eyes widened. “How would this help Liam’s case? Why would he want us to look bad before Aldorf?”

  “It’s not that he’s after,” Gavin said. “The opportunity presented itself for him to lash out at Torquil and me, while causing us to have trouble with Aldorf.”

  “Take him. He will be traveling to Aldorf with us. We will present him to
the duke to do with as he wishes.”

  “He could spout information we’d rather the duke not know. Agree to tell lies to spare himself.”

  “True.” Gavin stalked back to the guardsmen. “I will ask this once,” he called out to the group. “Which of you killed Aldorf’s messenger?”

  His flat gaze scanned the faces and chills traveled up Beatrice’s arms.

  “Speak now.”

  None of the guard moved. Liam’s jaw clenched and he spat on the ground. “He killed himself. Cut his own throat. Why would you accuse us?”

  Gavin walked to Liam. “You know very well he didn’t do it.”

  Before the man could reply, Gavin sliced his sword across Liam’s throat. The guard’s eyes bulged and he wrapped his hand over the injury as if to stop the flow of blood before falling backward onto the ground.

  “Let it be noted. I will not stand for any traitor amongst our ranks.” Gavin looked down dispassionately at the dying man. His blood gushed into the ground as his mouth opened and closed as death claimed him.

  Beatrice could not look away between Gavin’s hardened face and the dying man. She clutched Grisilda’s hand while gasping for air.

  Her pale friend tugged at her. “Let us go inside. This is for the men to handle.”

  Twice she’d seen Gavin kill, both times swiftly with dispassion. That side of him seemed foreign. He was not the same man who made love to her so thoroughly and gently at times.

  As leader, his role was weighty. She understood it more each day.

  Although it was understandable, why the guard had to die, to kill someone so dispassionately, didn’t fit the same man who clung to her at night.

  It stood to reason, there were many unsavory duties for a lord. Of course, she knew that. It was a wonder people would fight for titles and such. Although titles brought power and affluence, they were counterbalanced with a heavy yoke.

  Her legs wobbled as she barely made it to the kitchens. Grisilda hurried to the stove to boil water. “We need some strong tea. Something to calm our nerves.”

  Molly neared. “What happened?”

  “Two men are dead. Liam killed the messenger and His Grace killed Liam,” Grisilda explained to a gasping Molly.

  “Lord help us.” Molly crossed herself. “Why would Liam do such a thing?”

  “He was angry that Torquil named Oscar as second in command.” Beatrice placed her head in both hands, resting her elbows on the tabletop. “Torquil should not have done it. However, I wonder what type of leader Liam would have made.”

  “Precisely why he was not named,” Molly said. “Torquil knows those men inside and out.”

  Grisilda let out a breath. “Nonetheless. We should pray for his soul.” The women sat around the table as the water boiled and prayed. Beatrice also prayed that when the men went to Aldorf with the news, they would be safe and not end up dead as well.

  “Now let’s have some tea and wait. Once Liam’s wife is informed, we’ll have to ensure she and the young are taken care of.”

  “He was married then?” Beatrice’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh no.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Castle Canaan was on the road from Carlisle, where Gavin lived and Kendal in Cumbria. They were informed that De Wolfe lived there for the time being. Once they arrived and the heavily fortified castle, they escorted in to the great hall, where Scott De Wolfe greeted them. Gavin and Torquil exchanged confused looks at the warrior’s demeanor. He actually smiled several times during their meeting.

  “Lady Avrielle has changed the man completely,” Torquil murmured on their way back home.

  “Aye tis a different man. I rather like the new De Wolfe. Having his support means Aldorf will lose any desire to attack us. For even his forces cannot stand against De Wolfe’s army.”

  “And still I must go,” Gavin said not at all looking forward to be apart from Beatrice.

  Torquil chuckled. “And return with haste I am willing to bet.”

  It was almost ten days since Gavin and Torquil had gone, along with twenty guards. Although Beatrice knew very little of the Duke of Aldorf, it was enough to worry about what happened.

  With each day that passed, she grew more and more anxious. “What will happen if Gavin doesn’t return?” she asked a harried Molly who oversaw the other helper in the kitchen while dropping vegetables into a pot.

  “I do not know, Milady. However, it would not be unheard of for you to marry Sinclair as he will take over the reins of lordship.”

  At the idea, Beatrice recoiled. “I certainly hope not. How could I?”

  “If you are with child, it would be the best recourse. Think of it. The child, if male, will carry his father’s title and need protection. Once of age, he will become duke.”

  Beatrice rushed to the doorway. “Gavin better well return. I have no desire to marry his brother.”

  A maid giggled until Molly sent her a warning look. “I understand. But that is how things are done. Worry not. I’m sure His Grace will return any day now.”

  That night, Beatrice lay in the dark unable to sleep. It was cold in the room as the fire had dwindled. Without Gavin next to her to share warmth with, it was hard to stay warm. Yes, the bedding was thick and she burrowed deeper into the covers, however, it didn’t seem enough.

  She looked to the fireplace where Lasitor had taken to sleeping since Gavin left. He had refused to take the hound with him.

  A commotion rang out and Beatrice sat up. “Could it be?” At once fear coursed through her. Racing to the window, she peered down and could make out the men on horseback arriving into the inner courtyard. She could not make out in the darkness whether or not her husband was among them.

  She backed away, grabbed her robe and raced out barefoot. At the stairwell, she slowed just enough to get her bearings in the dim light then scurried down to the great room.

  The doors opened and she could hear the din of a conversation. “I need to bathe. However, it will have to wait until morning.”

  “Gavin!” Beatrice ran to him and threw herself into his open arms. “You returned.”

  “I’ll take my leave,” Torquil said with a chuckle. “Good night.”

  The feel of his body, the fact he stood upright and seemed unhurt, brought Beatrice to tears. “It—it took so long,” she stuttered.

  He wrapped his arms around her. Although she had to turn her head for he smelled of dirt and horse, a grin split her face. “I missed you as well, Beatrice.” He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “However, I cannot join you in bed. I am far too dirty.”

  “I’ll help you bathe then.” She tugged his hand and turned toward the kitchen. “Come. I refuse to spend another night alone.”

  Two sleepy lads were awakened and hurried to heat water and bring out the tub for Gavin. He promised them a day without tasks for their trouble. Neither seemed to mind as they chatted to him about what happened during his absence.

  Finally, Beatrice oversaw his washing. She soaped his hair and rinsed it while hiding a smile when her husband’s eyes drooped with weariness.

  Once he finished his bath, they walked up the stairs to their chamber. He added a log to the fire and stoked it until it burned bright, then slid into bed next to her.

  Gavin let out a sigh and yawned. “Any talk will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  Within moments, he fell asleep and so did Beatrice, happily snuggled next to him.

  She woke to kisses and Gavin over her, his mouth moving from her jawline down to her throat. Before long, they were a tangle of limbs as they sought the intimacy of lovers who’d been apart too long.

  Their lovemaking was urgent and fast-paced, neither seeming to get close enough to convey how much they needed the intimacy they’d missed. Beatrice ran her hands down Gavin’s back and cupped his bottom, pulling him closer while he thrust in and out of her, his body instinctively knowing what she needed.

  It was a long time later that they lay spent. Beatrice sprawled over her hus
band, a lazy curve to her lips as she traced circles on his chest. “I believe I love you, Gavin.”

  His deep chuckle echoed in her ear. “I’m not surprised. You have to love me.”

  “What?” She pushed up and glowered down at him. “I don’t.”

  “Yes. You. Do.” He said each word between kisses. “I don’t wish to be the only one in love in this marriage. So I hoped you would.”

  “You love me as well?”

  “I have since that day you helped me find my hound.”

  “Liar.” Beatrice laughed, enjoying his mirth when he chuckled as well.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to her temple. “Perhaps it was when you almost shot me in the head with an arrow or when you accosted me in the garden at my uncle’s keep.”

  “I did no such thing. It was you who attacked me.” Beatrice kissed his jaw.

  “No…no, if I remember correctly, you clung to me like a vine.”

  “I feared falling since you were leaning me backward.”

  They continued the verbal sparring, not noticing a red-faced Grisilda backing out of the room with a soft smile.

  Six weeks later.

  At the morning meal, Beatrice walked to the high board and sat next to Gavin. He was deep in conversation with Oscar. One of Molly’s helpers hurried over with a plate and placed it before her.

  Beatrice blanched when her stomach revolted. After a few steady breaths, she was able to sip tea, but each time she looked to the food, the urge to vomit became worse.

  “What’s wrong?” Gavin studied her. Perspiration at the nausea coated her face.

  “I don’t feel well. I will go to Molly and ask for some herbs.” She got to her feet unsteadily and managed to get to the kitchen before hurrying past it to throw up just beyond the doorway.

  “I wondered if you were with child. All those late mornings since His Grace arrived had to produce something.” Molly spoke from the doorway. “Now, hold steady for a moment. I will bring water for you to rinse your mouth with. Then some dry bread to steady your stomach…” the woman kept talking the entire time as Beatrice grappled with the news.