Tears.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Linley Manor
6 miles east of Hyssington
“I knew it was de Wolfe!” Linley screamed. “I knew it was him!”
In the only habitable room of Linley Manor, the great hall that had known grander days, the big, heavy-set drunkard known as Lord Linley was in a rage. His daughter, weeping, had finally confessed the father of her six-month-old son and, devastated, told her father that the knight refused to marry her. Now, Linley was in a rage and there was no way to stop it.
“Papa, please,” Helene wept. “I do not need your anger. I need your help. Will you not help me?”
Linley, who had been stumbling around the room in his rage, came to a halt and threw up his hands. “What is it you expect me to do?” he nearly screamed at her. “If the man refused to marry you, all I can do is kill him! I will challenge him and I will kill him! It is a matter of family honor now!”
Helene shook her head. “Papa, no,” she insisted. “He is a knight, one of the most powerful on the Marches. He will kill you!”
Linley was inflamed by what he considered slander against his skill and, in a rage, he rushed at his daughter and slapped her several times across the face as she screamed. In her struggle to get away from him, she ended up falling backwards over her chair, ending up on the dirty floor and crawling away.
“Silence your foolish mouth, girl!” Linley said, trying to kick her as she crawled away. “When you named your son Wolfe I should have known. You told me it was because you liked the name but I knew better. I knew Gates de Wolfe had somehow managed to steal your innocence but now that you have confirmed it to me, I will kill the man, I swear it!”
Sobbing, Helene was over by the wall, huddled in a fearful ball. “Mayhap you will not have to kill him if you can convince him to do the honorable thing and marry me,” she said, wiping the mucus from her nose with the back of her hand. “Mayhap he will change his mind if you ask.”
“You already said he refused!”
She nodded, wiping at her eyes, hoping he didn’t charge her again and try to slap her. “He did,” she said, sniffling. “But… but should you approach his liege, mayhap it would be different. De Lara can command Gates into marriage or punish him!”
Linley pondered that a moment, coming to an unsteady halt. He was weaving unsteadily, the result of drinking cheap ale that had been made from grain with mold on it. It had a tendency to make him see things that weren’t there and give him horrible nightmares. But when one was dependent upon drink, one was not too particular where one got it from.
“Mayhap,” Linley agreed, scratching at his louse-ridden head. “I will see de Lara, then, and demand he force de Wolfe to marry you. It is the only honorable thing to do and surely de Lara will not stand for a dishonorable knight in his service, especially when I tell all who will listen how disgraceful de Wolfe is. Imagine the man seducing my vulnerable daughter. I will not have it, I say!”
Helene remained huddled against the wall, listening to her father rant, hoping for two things – that Gates would, when challenged, kill her father and that afterwards, he would feel so terrible about it that he would agree to marry her. Aye, those two things were her wish because, for certain, living with a father such as Huw Linley was worse than a death sentence. He’d sold everything of value from the manor to support his drinking habit and any money that came up after that was also used for drink. He bargained with local brewers, trading them servants and livestock for stores of cheap and toxic ale, and sometimes the ale was so poisoned by bad grain that he saw his daughter as a demon and tried to beat her. Once he even tried to throw her in the fire.
Aye, living with the man was hell, which was why marriage to a knight had held out such hope for Helene. In her view, there was still hope now that her father intended to challenge de Wolfe. Perhaps Gates would not want to fight the old man, believing it a dishonorable thing to do, and simply give in. It was among the many hopes that Helene had at the moment.
The last hope that her son would indeed have his father.
The last hope that she would know a better life than this with the only man who had ever been kind to her.
With the pearl necklace, the amethyst necklace, a gold necklace adorned with crimson stones, and a bejeweled hair piece of emeralds packed safely away in a locked box that they had purchased from the jeweler along with the jewelry, Gates and Kathalin emerged from the stall to find Alexander and the men waiting for them. It seemed that Alexander had found an establishment on the Street of the Bakers that produced little pies with chicken and gravy, something that had smelled decadently delicious, so the group had proceeded across the avenue to the Street of the Bakers to partake.
The smells of baking bread and roasting meat were coming fast and heavy as they entered the street but Kathalin wasn’t much interested in it. She was not very hungry, in fact, since Gates had turned down her marriage proposal. Well, it wasn’t exactly a proposal but certainly he’d discounted her offer. She’d never known such disappointment in her life, and heartache, for at St. Milburga’s she had been insulated against such things. Now, she wanted to go back more than ever. She didn’t even want to look at Gates de Wolfe any longer.
She wanted to go home.
Oblivious to what had happened in the jeweler’s stall between Kathalin and Gates, Alexander was his usual congenial self. He had reserved an area between stalls on the Street of the Bakers with upturned logs and a few benches where patrons could sit whilst eating their food. Normally, it was a pleasant place to eat but with the melting snow, it was a bit of a swamp. Still, Gates gathered his men there as Alexander and a few of his soldiers went to purchase food for a midday meal.
But there was brooding silence all around after he departed. It wasn’t difficult to notice that Kathalin had fallen silent since their visit to the jewelers. She sat on one of the wooden benches, wrapped up in her blue and fox fur cloak, staring at her hands for the most part. Gates, who had been acutely aware of her silence all along, couldn’t get more than one or two word answers out of her. It didn’t take a great intellect to realize that she’d become this way after he’d turned down her suggestion of marriage and her shift in mood told him, increasingly, how serious she had been.
His heart, so hardened against women, wasn’t hardened against her. The more she ignored him, the worse the tightening in his chest became. He very much wanted to explain the reasons behind his answer to her but he was afraid if he did, it would open him up to a confession he didn’t want to make to her. A confession that would have him telling her what a terrible man he’d been at times, deflowering virgins and running from responsibility. Nay, he didn’t want to tell her that at all. Of all people in the world, he wanted her to think of him as a strong and upstanding man, with no vices and of great moral character. He didn’t want her to know of the Dark Destroyer, the destroyer of women’s hearts.
He only wanted her to know Gates de Wolfe, the man she’d known kindness from.
That was the only legacy he wanted with her.
… could have with her.
So he kept his mouth shut, not speaking to her as they waited until Alexander finally returned with enough food for, literally, an army. He had more than two dozen small pies with dark brown crusts and a filling of chicken and gravy, or filled with mutton and carrots. There was also fresh bread and almond pudding in dried-out gourds, but before the men could jump at them, Gates gave Kathalin her choice and she selected, without enthusiasm, a chicken pie. That was all. Once she took it for herself, the men dove in and it was a feasting frenzy beneath the cold, clear afternoon sky.
“Is the plan still to remain here tonight?” Alexander asked as he walked up to Gates, shoving pie into his mouth. “There is a festival going on later today, you know. It should go all night.”
Gates was eating his own pie. “What festival?”
Alexander, chewing, pointed off to the square where the big cathedral was. “Some kind o
f pagan celebration local to the town,” he said. “Something about a sheep queen or a snow queen. I do not recall what I was told. In any case, they will have fires and food and dancing, so I am told. It might be fun to attend. There will be women there, after all.”
Gates looked at the man. “In case you haven’t realized it, we are guarding a woman right now,” he said. “I will not go off and leave her unattended.”
Alexander’s gaze lingered on Kathalin’s lowered head. “I did not mean to leave her unattended,” he said. “She may like to attend.”
“Having come from a convent where festivities like that were not allowed? I doubt it.”
Alexander could see his point. He continued to watch Kathalin as she picked at her pie. “I heard that Jasper and Lady de Lara intend to throw a party for her in honor of her return home,” he said. “My parents have been invited, in fact. By next week, we should have families here from all over the Marches to welcome Lady Kathalin home.”
Gates simply nodded, taking another bite of his pie, unaware that Alexander was watching her closely. “She is a beautiful woman,” he continued. “Rumor has it that de Lara is looking for a husband for her. Have you heard that, also?”
Gates heard something in Alexander’s voice, something he didn’t like. If he hadn’t known better, there was a hint of interest there but he remained wisely silent even though what he really wanted to do was throttle the man. Jealousy, something he wasn’t used to in the least, began rearing its ugly head again.
“What de Lara does with his daughter is no concern of yours or mine,” he said. “I would suggest you not speak of the man’s daughter in front of him, in fact. That would be an excellent way to garner his wrath.”
Alexander looked at him. “Why?”
Gates lifted his eyebrows to emphasize his point. “If she was your daughter, would you not be protective over her from hot-blooded knights?”
Alexander conceded the point. “Mayhap,” he said. “He should not worry over us, however. We are sworn to him and to the family. We would not take advantage of that trust.”
Gates didn’t say anything for a moment; he was starting to feel sick to his stomach, confused with Alexander’s words. Is that what I’ve done? He asked himself. Have I taken advantage of de Lara’s trust by having affection for his daughter? By getting to know her and letting her get under my skin? As he wrestled with that terrible thought, Alexander spoke again.
“I will tell you a secret, old man,” he said to Gates, lowering his voice. “My parents have been harassing me to marry. No sooner had I arrived home then they were demanding to know when I intended to wed. If de Lara is truly looking for a husband for his daughter, and my parents know it, I have a feeling they will try to press my suit. I cannot say that the thought disturbs me because it does not. She is an exquisite creature. She would make a fine wife upon my arm.”
Gates’ jaw ticked faintly, increasingly disturbed by Alexander’s prattle. More than that, he was greatly disturbed by the subject – was it possible that, of all men, Alexander would actually be pledged to Kathalin? God’s Bones, the mere thought made him ill. He tossed the rest of his pie to the ground, unable to finish. His bitterness in Alexander’s interest in Kathalin began to come out.
“De Lara will not want you for her for the same reason he will not want me,” he said in an attempt to curb Alexander’s interest. “You have been known to bed a woman or two, much as I have, and you have a history of romantic conquest. De Lara knows this.”
Alexander looked at his friend, wondering why the man sounded so cynical. “That may be,” he said, “but my legend isn’t nearly as bad as yours is. Moreover, most young men our age have some manner of reputation with women. They would be odd if they didn’t.”
Gates didn’t want to speak with Alexander any longer. He was afraid he might say something nasty if he did, jealous as he was. He simply couldn’t control it. Without a word, he left Alexander and went to where Kathalin was sitting. Now, his focus became her, swiftly forgetting about Alexander. He stood next to her and cleared his throat softly.
“May I sit, my lady?” he asked politely.
Kathalin was jolted by the sound of his voice, so much so that she jumped when he spoke. Her mind had been lingering on a future without him, his refusal of her marriage suggestion, and any number of other sad and disappointing thoughts involving him. She had been wrapped up in her own world, the pain of his refusal building within her. But Gates had been speaking to Alexander; she knew this because she had heard their voices. She was hoping he would remain with Alexander so she would not have to speak with him. She was too terribly embarrassed and disappointed to speak with him. Therefore, his request to sit next to her was met with only a shrug.
Gates took the gesture as an affirmative and planted himself next to her on the wooden bench, hearing it creak under his weight. “God’s Bones,” he complained, looking down at the bench. “I hope I do not collapse it. I will apologize in advance if I end up dumping you on the ground.”
Kathalin smiled weakly but said nothing and Gates couldn’t stand the silence between them. It was beginning to eat at him, consuming every thought in his head, and he knew he had to make things right. This was all his fault, anyway. Perhaps if he explained his position against her marriage proposal, she might not be so hateful towards him.
Now, the situation between them was about to become quite real.
He prepared himself.
“My lady,” he said softly. “Kathalin. May I speak freely between us?”
Kathalin. She closed her eyes to the sound of her name coming forth, turning her head away and squeezing her eyes together tightly to stave off the tears. After a moment, she shook her head.
“Nay,” she whispered.
His brow furrowed. “Why not?”
She abruptly stood up, hissing at him. “Because there is nothing to say.”
With that, she stormed off, out of the eating area and out into the street. Gates quickly followed, grasping her by the arm as she made her way down the street. She didn’t get very far. When he latched on to her, she tried to pull away.
“Hold, lady,” he said, his voice stern but soft. “Where are you going?”
She was trying to yank her arm out of his grip. “Let me go!”
In response, he grabbed her with both hands, his grip like an iron vise. “I will not,” he said, his voice less soft and more firm now. “What is the matter? Why are you running off?”
It took Kathalin a moment to realize she was making a fool of herself. Already, she’d made a great fool of herself by betraying the fact that she was embarrassed and hurt by his refusal. Now he knew, or at least he suspected. She wasn’t sure she could cover for her behavior and try to throw him off the scent, but the truth was that she didn’t want to try. She wasn’t clever or practiced in the ways of men and women. All she knew was honesty. Perhaps it was time for her to be honest.
Perhaps then he would leave her in peace.
“Because… because I said something to you that I should not have,” she finally said, her struggles against him easing. “When I said I would marry you, it was the truth. But I should not have said it and I am sorry.”
Her words were like arrows to his heart, each one doing more damage than the one before it. It was sucking the breath out of him, hurting him in ways he never knew he could hurt. Quickly, he looked around to see if there was someplace more private they could speak because he was quite certain there was about to be a good deal of honesty between them whether or not he wanted it.
Still, the time had come.
When he saw a gap between two baking establishments off to his right, he pulled her over in that direction and wedged them both in between the buildings. It was a narrow space and he was pressed up against her, too close, but it was necessary. What he had to say was for her ears only.
“I want you to listen to me carefully, Kathalin,” he said, his voice quiet. “You must never be sorry for something you
feel and you must never be sorry for speaking the truth. You cannot know how honored and thrilled I am to hear you say such things. It is the most wonderful thing I have ever heard.”
Kathalin, very close to him, couldn’t bear to look up at him. She kept her head lowered. “It was foolish,” she said. “Silly and foolish. Please, de Wolfe… I want to go back to St. Milburga’s. Won’t you please take me there?”
He shook his head. “I cannot and you know it,” he said, looking down at her bowed head and feeling her turmoil. “But know this; if I could marry you, I most certainly would. Your parents intend to seek a husband for you and the mere thought of you being married to someone else fills me with anguish such as I have never known. I would rather see you back at St. Milburga’s than see you married to anyone other than me.”
It took a few moments for his words to sink in but when they did, her head shot up and she looked at him, wide-eyed. “You… you do not wish to see me married to anyone else?” she repeated, laboring to comprehend what he had just told her. “You… you would marry me?”
He nodded, sorrow evident in his face. He put a hand beneath her chin, forcing her to keep her eyes on him, feeling the soft texture of her skin. It was like silk.
“When I told you that I could not marry you, it was not because I did not want to,” he said. Then he shook his head, dropping his hand from her chin and averting his gaze as he struggled for the correct words. “There is something you must know about me, Kathalin. I have been a foolish man when it comes to women for most of my adult life. You see, I have always viewed women as conquests or prizes, something to be won, and used, and then forgotten about when I move on to the next one. I have spent my life disrespecting women and using them for my own needs. Since you are to be around Hyssington for some time to come, you will probably hear men refer to me by the moniker I have earned because of my reputation. I have been called the Dark Destroyer because of my prowess off the battlefield as well as on it. Do not be distressed when you hear it; it has followed me for many years.”
Dark Destroyer (De Wolfe Pack Book 6) Page 21
