DarkWolfe: Sons of de Wolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 5)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was rather chaotic, in fact. Rhoswyn lurched to her feet, rubbing her hands where the ropes had chafed her, watching the man she was supposed to marry chase everyone away from her.

  …why in the hell wasn’t she running, too?

  “Clearly, you did not know what your father had in mind, did you?”

  The man she was supposed to marry was suddenly standing in front of her, speaking to her with that delicious voice. A voice that could move mountains. Rhoswyn looked at him, feeling her heart leap strangely.

  God, what was wrong with her?

  “Nay,” she said, staying out of arm’s length so he couldn’t touch her or grab her.

  Troy watched the woman as she moved away from him. She wasn’t running, as he had expected, but she was obviously unnerved by him, by the entire situation. To her credit, however, the hysteria seemed to have faded. Now that she wasn’t being treated like an animal, she wasn’t behaving like one. But he wondered if it was only temporary. He scratched his head, glancing back at his father and the other English who were mostly keeping the Scots at bay. But some were watching him.

  An idea struck him.

  “Would you be willing to have a private word with me, please?” he asked her. “It is impossible for you to run out of here and not be caught, so if you give me a moment of your time, mayhap we can come to an… an agreement that will not involve wrapping you up in ropes.”

  Rhoswyn was still rubbing her wrists where her skin was chafed, eyeing him. “What could ye possibly have tae say tae me?”

  There was both curiosity and defiance in that question. Troy wasn’t sure he could get her to come with him, to a quiet corner, so he simply spoke where they were standing even though there were men within earshot. It was a crowded, chaotic situation at best but, being a rational man most of the time, he knew they had to speak. Something had to be done and he wondered if he was the only one who could do it.

  To calm the woman who was to be his wife.

  “I have this to say,” he said. “My father has made this bargain with your father. You and I, unfortunately, are to be the pawns in their greater game. I do not wish to marry you any more than you wish to marry me, but to refuse would reflect badly on our fathers. My father would be a man who could not hold his word, and your father would be a clan chief who had no control over his own daughter. Do you agree with this so far?”

  That voice. Rhoswyn was having difficulty not openly admiring what was music to her ears. Even if he did speak with a Sassenach accent…

  “Me pa dinna consult with me,” she said. “I have every right tae refuse.”

  Oh, but she was stubborn, this one, Troy thought. He could see it in her expression as she spoke, in a voice that sounded rich and silky. It was rather beautiful. Even if she did speak with a Scots accent…

  “You have no rights at all and you know it,” he said, trying not to sound cruel. “Nor do I. Much as your father is your chief, my father is mine. It is the hierarchy of command – my father commands and, ultimately, I do as I am told. So do you. If men did not do as they were told, then there would be chaos. Everyone must take orders from someone. Is that a fair statement?”

  Rhoswyn’s jaw ticked faintly; she sensed what he was driving at and even though what he said was correct, she wouldn’t agree to it. She couldn’t. But if she continued to refuse and dispute him, she would sound like an idiot in denial, an animal who did what she pleased, any time she pleased. It was, therefore, with the greatest of hesitation that she nodded her head, ever so slightly.

  “Me pa is the clan chief,” she agreed.

  “And he is in command?”

  “Aye.”

  Troy was surprised she conceded the point. “As my father is in command of the House of de Wolfe,” he said. “Let me ask you, my lady – if one of your father’s men was to refuse him as you have refused him, what would you do to the man?”

  She snorted. “He would be beaten and sent away.”

  Troy was quick to pounce on that. “Do you want to be beaten and sent away? Because you were close to that only a few moments ago when they brought you in, bound in rope.” He watched an expression of doubt ripple across her face and he took a step towards her, lowering his voice. “I do not want to marry you. I do not ever want to marry again. But I have no choice. And you; you do not have any choice, either. All you are doing now is embarrassing your father much as I am embarrassing mine. We are showing little honor in our fathers by denying their wishes. I love my father and I want to show respect to him; I hope you feel the same way about your father. With that said, we may as well let them have their marriage and get it over with.”

  Rhoswyn eyed him nervously before looking to her father, who was standing about fifteen feet away with William. Both fathers were looking at their children with varied degrees of apprehension. All you are doing now is embarrassing your father. It took Rhoswyn a moment to realize that he was correct. But she couldn’t help it, so great was her resistance to this marriage. She didn’t want to marry a Sassenach; she didn’t want to marry anyone. But, as her father had pointed out, if she didn’t, then his title and lands would pass to Fergus and his worthless sons. The next chief of Red Keith’s clan wouldn’t have his blood. Or hers.

  God… her father had been right.

  Rhoswyn’s gaze returned to the English knight; big, handsome… if she had to marry, then she supposed she could do much worse than him. Perhaps he would even teach her the Sassenach warring ways. She forced herself to look on the bright side; perhaps it wouldn’t be all bad.

  It wasn’t as if she had a choice. But in that understanding, she could feel the distinctive spasms of defeat.

  She hated it.

  “And then what?” she asked. “I marry ye, and then what? What happens then?”

  It was a good question. “What do you want to happen?” Troy asked. “Do you want to go home with your father? You know he will make you remain with me. A wife remains with her husband.”

  Rhoswyn was starting to lose her defiance. She was tired and upset, and the trials of the day were getting to her. She was a strong woman but even she had a limit. The thought of never going home again brought tears to her eyes, tears she angrily blinked away.

  “Will… will we remain here?” she whispered tightly.

  Troy could see that she was breaking down and he had to admit he was relieved. He sincerely did not want to marry a woman who might possibly put a dirk in his back while he was sleeping. Perhaps she would still try, but he had a feeling that if he could calm her down, and talk to her pleasantly, then maybe they could at least come to some civil coexistence. At this point, that was really their only hope as well as their only choice.

  “For now,” he said. “Mayhap in time you could even go home and live with your father if you wanted to. I would not wish for you to be unhappy living here or at Kale Water Castle. That is my other holding. My lady… since neither of us has a choice in the matter, then let us get on with this and decide what is best for both of us after the fact. I promise that I will let you do whatever makes you happy so long as whatever it is does not shame me, my father, or your father. Is that agreeable?”

  It was perhaps the nicest way to make a truly upsetting situation feel comfortable. Rhoswyn had to admit that she was surprised by the amount of compassion and reason the knight displayed. She had no idea that the Sassenach were capable of such a thing. But beneath all of her resistance and anger, she had to admit there was also a good deal of fear. Truly, she was afraid to be married, afraid of the Sassenach stranger.

  Afraid of an unknown future.

  But her father had set her on this path and there was nothing she could do. After a moment, she nodded her head, once, but it was enough of a gesture that Troy turned to his father and Keith. He lifted a hand.

  “Bring the priest,” he boomed. “Do it now before the lady and I change our minds.”

  Pulled away from the table and his fourth cup of cheap wine, Audric had never been for
ced to move so fast in his entire life.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  She wasn’t hungry.

  After the hasty mass performed by the priest from Jedburgh, there was much food and drink to be had. It was surprising, considering the English armies had to bring their provisions with them, and that included sides of aged beef that had been carefully packed in straw to keep the temperature even and the meat dry. It was very dry, in fact, so much so that the men had taken to cutting it up and boiling it in a large cauldron they’d found on the grounds of Monteviot. The smells of meat were heavy all over the compound.

  But Rhoswyn wasn’t hungry for it. She wasn’t hungry for anything, nor was she thirsty. Shock had seen to that. She sat next to her new husband at the bigger of the two tables in the hall of Monteviot, watching the English and the Scots feast on the boiled beef. Next to her, Troy – as she’d been reminded of his name by the priest who’d married them – wasn’t eating or drinking very much either, and he’d barely spoken to her through the meal. He was more intent on speaking to his Sassenach brothers and cousins, men he’d introduced to Rhoswyn but she’d forgotten their names as soon as he’d told her. The night was disorienting enough without having to remember names that would have no meaning to her.

  She just wanted to get this night over with.

  Artis and Dunsmore, her cousins, had brought her bedroll and possessions into the hall. They’d been strapped to her big black horse, which had been stabled for the night. Now, the big leather satchel and her neatly-bound bedroll sat next to her feet. On her right, Keith tried to speak to her now and again, but she ignored him. She truly didn’t have anything to say to the man. She was torn between being furious with him and not wanting him to leave her. But she knew, after this night, that her life would change and seeing her father would be rare. She missed him already. God, she just wasn’t prepared for any of this.

  But facts were facts. This was her life to be.

  Therefore, Rhoswyn supposed she had no choice but to make the best of it. So much that Troy had said to her rang deep – about not shaming their fathers, about doing what had to be done. He’d spoken to her politely, with that beautiful deep voice, and the truth was that he’d soothed her somewhat. The man possessed some kind of magic to do that.

  “My lady?”

  It took Rhoswyn a moment to realize that the young knights across the table were trying to capture her attention. There were three of them, big men, but their youthful faces belied their age. The oldest couldn’t have seen any more than twenty or twenty-one summers. Two of them were obviously brothers, with black hair and blue eyes, while the third one had a granite-square jaw and dark blond hair. When they saw that they had her attention, the younger black-haired knight smiled.

  “My lady, we were wondering,” he said. “Where did you learn to fight? You were very skilled in your battle against Troy today.”

  It was a polite question asked by a young Sassenach who had evidently had too much to drink. They were smiling, their eyes bright, and they seemed rather animated. But Rhoswyn was embarrassed to be the object of their attention and she lowered her gaze, quickly, hoping that if she didn’t give them an answer, that they would leave her alone. She didn’t realize that Troy had heard the question and now his focus was on the young knights.

  “You will address her as Lady de Wolfe,” he growled. “And clearly, she learned to fight well enough that she managed to catch me off-guard. But I promise you that had you been in my position, the same thing would have happened. Or worse.”

  Corbin had been the one asking the questions and he grinned as Troy admitted his shameful defeat. “I am not so sure,” he said. “I would not have faltered as you did.”

  “Is that so? You have a big mouth and an even bigger imagination, de Bocage. She would have run you through before you would even realize what had happened.”

  Corbin laughed, knowing he was provoking Troy but a little too young to care. “Untrue,” he said. “As soon as she revealed herself to me, I would have pushed her back by the face. ’Tis a bold wench who would challenge a man.”

  He was talking as if Rhoswyn couldn’t hear him and his words were a challenge in themselves. Rhoswyn’s head came up and her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like the arrogant young knight’s assertion. She wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

  “’Tis a fool who believes he can best me,” she said, entering the conversation. “Have ye ever fought a woman before?”

  Corbin’s smile faded as Troy’s new wife spoke up. “Never,” he said. “I would never fight one.”

  “How do ye know ye havena? Ye could have fought a very good one and ye just never knew it.”

  “And you could have been beaten by her,” Troy put in for his prideful young friend. “In fact, you have probably been beaten by many women, Corbin. Hell, with the way you fight, my mother could beat you if she had a mind to.”

  That brought laughter from those around them and Corbin frowned deeply. “No woman can beat me.”

  Troy looked at Rhoswyn, who looked at him with a rather startled expression. Startled that the man was so close to her, his face now just a few inches from hers. Of course, she’d been sitting next to him all evening but only when he looked at her did she realized just how close he’d been.

  Those eyes… she’d been right. They were hazel, but a very pale shade of the color that looked gold in certain light. It was the most beautiful color she’d ever seen. And his lips… he was smirking, but it wasn’t at her. It was at the knight across the table. When he spoke, there was some appreciation in his tone.

  “This one can,” he said.

  Before Rhoswyn could reply, he turned away and found his cup of wine. Rhoswyn watched him for a moment, unsure if there was approval in his voice when he’d spoken. She had no way of knowing; she didn’t know the man. She’d just met him and she’d just married him. He was her husband, but he was a stranger.

  Was it possible that, somehow, the warrior in him was the least bit impressed with her?

  “It is impossible for her to best me,” the young knight scoffed, disrupting her train of thought. “No offense intended, Lady de Wolfe, but you caught your husband off-guard. He has admitted that. It is the only reason you won. Do you know that Troy de Wolfe can tear men apart with his bare hands in battle? When his anger is roused, you have never in your life seen such a warrior. It was fortunate you caught him when you did. Otherwise, he would have torn you to shreds.”

  Troy thumped on the table, loud enough to get his attention. “Cease your prattle,” he said. “It is over with. Change the subject and speak of something else.”

  Corbin backed off, but not enough. He put his cup to his lips and drank deeply before speaking.

  “If she was my wife, I would put her over my knee,” he said, muffled in the cup. “Now that she is your wife, you can punish her for ramming her knee into your…”

  Case slapped a hand over his brother’s mouth, forcing a smile at Troy. “He has had too much to drink,” he said. “I will remove him.”

  Troy eyed the two brothers. “You had better,” he said. “If that young fool rouses my anger, I will rip his head from his shoulders. Remember that.”

  Case knew that Troy wasn’t serious – well, not entirely serious – but he pulled his brother from the table nonetheless, yanking him down the bench to where his father was sitting. Troy fought off a grin as he watched Case explain to his father why they had come to that side of the table, biting off a laugh when Michael smacked his youngest son on the side of the head. Corbin yowled.

  “Would ye truly rip his head from his shoulders?”

  The soft question came from Rhoswyn. Troy turned to look at her, realizing it was the first thing she’d said to him nearly all night. With a twinkle in his eye, he shook his head.

  “Nay,” he said. “Not really. But it is enough of a threat to move him and his flapping lips away from you. I do apologize if he offended you. He is young and silly, but deep down, I bel
ieve he’s a good man. He will grow into himself in time.”

  Rhoswyn watched as down the table, Corbin defended himself from his father’s anger. “He reminds me of the young lads that serve me pa,” she said. “They’re like young colts. Wild, playful, and no fear. They’re hard tae tame sometimes.”

  Troy nodded. He, too, was watching Case and Michael scold Corbin for his behavior. It occurred to him that it might be better to retreat to the marital chamber now that the evening was deepening and the situation in general was calming. Certainly, the lady was much calmer than she had been earlier, which Troy hoped was a good sign for the night to come. He hadn’t been a bridegroom in eighteen years, not since he married Helene, and he should have been nervous about it. But he wasn’t; he was oddly resigned to it. There was no sense of sexual anticipation, only duty. He had a duty to fulfill.

  And so did his new wife.

  “Mayhap we should retire for the evening before the situation here gets out of hand again,” he said to her. “It has been a tiring day for us both, I am sure.”

  Rhoswyn’s heart began to beat more rapidly, now nervous at what Troy was suggesting. She wasn’t a fool; she knew what a wife’s duty was. Her mother had schooled her on it when she had been about eleven years of age, right before Heather Whitton Kerr had passed away from an ailment in her lungs. That had been a terrible time in life to lose one’s mother, and Rhoswyn hadn’t missed her mother so much as she did at this moment. Wasn’t the woman supposed to be here with her, giving her daughter what comfort she could and last-minute advice?

  But there was no comfort and no advice. Rhoswyn was alone in all of this and she grabbed her possessions at her feet and abruptly stood up. As Troy said his farewells to his father and the others, Keith realized that his daughter was about to depart. He turned away from his conversation with his brother and grasped her by the arm.