DarkWolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Vulnerable.

  “I came to tell you that I am sorry,” Troy said. He was still shouting, but not nearly so loudly as he had been. “I said cruel things to you and I should not have. My only defense is that you frightened me.”

  “I thought I shamed ye?”

  He blew the rain out of his mouth. “You did,” he said. “You put yourself into a situation that was not your business, as if I was not man enough to handle it myself.”

  She flamed. “I told ye why I did it! I did it tae help ye!”

  He put up a hand. “You did not let me finish,” he said evenly. “By putting yourself into that situation, you put yourself in harm’s way. Those men were armed and you had a little knife you thought to fend them off with. While admirable, it was foolish. Do you know why I became angry? Because I was terrified that those men were going to run you through and there would have been nothing I could have done to save you.”

  Rhoswyn stared at him as he stood down there, being beaten by the elements. As she stood there, she felt someone coming up behind her and she turned to see that Keith had made an appearance. He’d heard the shouting, too, and he’d come to see what was transpiring.

  But Rhoswyn held him off from showing himself to Troy, fearful that Troy wouldn’t say everything he wanted or even needed to say if he knew Keith was there. It would be much better if he thought he was only talking to Rhoswyn.

  Still… he was shouting their business for all to hear. But Rhoswyn wanted to think this was just between them. Troy had come to get her back… she wanted him to try.

  “I can take care of meself,” she said after a moment. “Ye dunna need tae worry about savin’ me.”

  Troy wiped the water from his eyes. “You are my wife,” he said. “I will always worry about saving you, whether or not you like it. And when I said I needed a wife and not a warrior… I meant it, Rhoswyn. I have thousands of warriors at my disposal, but only one wife. It is a very big role you fill in my life and although I know you were raised to fight, I do not need you to do it. I do not want you to. And I am not trying to be cruel by telling you that, merely honest. I want my wife to work beside me, to laugh with me, to tend to my home and to my children, if we are so blessed. But fighting… I will be honest and tell you that it is a man’s work. In our home, I want it to remain that way.”

  Rhoswyn listened to a man who seemed very repentant about what he’d said to her, but also very honest in what he was telling her. She sensed a fragility from him that she’d never sensed before. Yet, what he was telling her was truthful – fighting was man’s work. Still, it was the only thing she’d ever known. But she very badly wanted to be the wife he wanted her to be.

  “I know it is a man’s work,” she said, feeling some vulnerability of her own. “I… I’m just not prepared for bein’ a wife. I tried; ye know I tried. But one moment in town when I thought ye were in danger dashed all of the tryin’ I’d been doin’. Mayhap I was simply lyin’ to meself about it, thinkin’ I could become a lady.”

  Troy could hear defeat in her voice, defeat he knew he’d put there. He didn’t like to hear it, not from the strongest woman he’d ever known.

  “I do not want you to be discouraged by what I’ve told you,” he said. “I simply want you to find your place in the world. In my world. I have seen you work over the past few days and I told you I was pleased. More than pleased. I do not want to go back to Monteviot without you, sweetheart. Please do not make me leave alone.”

  Sweetheart. Rhoswyn nearly swooned as he called her a pet name, a term of endearment. Nothing had ever sounded so wonderful to her ears. She looked to her father as if, suddenly, she believed everything he’d told her. Troy had been genuinely remorseful with what had happened. It made her heart swell with hope that, perhaps someday, he might even feel something for her. She knew she loved him; she didn’t expect such things from him, not now. What she felt was her own private paradise. But someday… perhaps there would be love between them.

  She could only hope.

  “Ye are?” She returned her attention to Troy. “Pleased, I mean.”

  “I am.”

  “What about not needin’ me?”

  Troy sighed heavily. “I was angry when I said it,” he said. “I should not have said it. Forgive me, Rhoswyn. But do you understand why I was so angry with you? You know I’ve already lost one wife. I could not stand to lose you, too.”

  All of the hurt and anger drained out of her at that moment. It must have been very difficult for him to admit such a thing. Of course she wanted to forgive him; not wanting to see him, telling her father she never wanted to speak with Troy again, was her anger speaking, too. She understood what it was to be angry and say things one didn’t mean because she was guilty of it, too.

  “Ye’ll not lose me,” she said. “And I’ll go back to Monteviot with ye. But if ye’re ever in danger and I get the urge tae fight again…”

  He put up his hands. “If I need your help, I will ask,” he said. “But only if I ask. Is it a bargain?”

  She fought off a grin, thinking that it sounded like a most reasonable deal. “’Tis a bargain.”

  A smile spread across Troy’s lips. “And, Rhoswyn?”

  “Aye?”

  “I am glad you adore me because I… I adore you, also.”

  Her features went slack with the impact of his words and all she wanted to do was go to the man and throw her arms around him. Every harsh word, every sorrowful feeling melted away until all she could hear were those words ringing in her head –

  I adore you, also.

  They were the most wonderful words she’d ever heard.

  But the warm and tender moment was cut short when something went sailing past Troy’s head. He’d been looking up at Rhoswyn and caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He ducked, but not quickly enough. Something clipped him on the forehead and he went down as two bodies suddenly rushed him, coming from the direction of the tower. Troy was suddenly was under attack and Keith ran from the chamber, cursing a blue streak, with Rhoswyn right on his heels.

  It wasn’t strange how quickly she forgot her bargain with him. If I need your help, I’ll ask. He didn’t ask, but she was going to help him, anyway.

  At that moment, the instinct to protect him was stronger than that promise.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  They’d been waiting.

  Artis and Dunsmore had been up before dawn, knowing that Troy was on the grounds, preparing to carry out their plan against the man.

  As far as they knew, Rhoswyn still hated her Sassenach husband and nothing had changed to that regard. They hadn’t yet spoken with Rhoswyn about it, but that didn’t matter. It became less about helping Rhoswyn do away with her husband and more about Artis and Dunsmore and their original fear – the fear of Keith giving away his fortune to his half-Sassenach grandsons. In their minds, that was all it was about.

  And they needed to take care of the problem.

  So, they were up at dawn, arming themselves for their attack on the English knight. They had listened to the conversation between Keith and Troy the night before, tipped off by a servant that Troy had arrived and Keith was speaking with the man. They’d hovered in the entry of the tower, listening and watching, hearing some of the conversation between Keith and Troy, but not all of it. Troy had come to make amends with Rhoswyn and that was the last thing Artis and Dunsmore wanted.

  They had to move.

  Armed before sunrise with a halberd and a short sword, assuming it would be easy between the two of them to dispose of de Wolfe, they crept from the bedchamber they shared in the tower just as a storm let loose overhead. Thunder and rain pounded the old tower as they slipped down the dark stairwell, past Rhoswyn’s chamber with the door closed, wondering if she was awake yet. They had to get to her husband before she relented and had contact with him. But by the time they hit the entry to the keep, the could hear the shouting going on.

  The Sassenach had other plans.
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br />   Standing in the doorway as the rain beat down, they could see Troy as he stood beneath Rhoswyn’s window. The man was without his armor and weapons, calling up to Rhoswyn. They could hear their cousin, too, as she responded. At first, it seemed as if they were arguing, something more about Rhoswyn trying to fight men she shouldn’t have been fighting and inserting herself into her husband’s business.

  Artis and Dunsmore were pleased to hear the initial tone of the conversation, one of anger and hurt. In fact, it gave them confidence for what they were about to do. But very quickly, the tone of the conversation turned into something else. Troy was apologizing and, like a fool, Rhoswyn was falling for it.

  So much for her not going back to her husband.

  As the conversation progressed, Artis knew that he and his brother would have to act quickly. They would have to end this situation once and for all, before the Sassenach armed himself and before Rhoswyn agreed to return to him. Once that happened, their task would be considerably more difficult, and they were great opportunists. It had to be now or never.

  They had to move.

  Artis had the halberd, which was, in truth, a big ax with a very big blade. It was versatile and quite deadly. As Troy gazed up at Rhoswyn, clearly occupied by the woman, Artis hurled the weapon at Troy’s head. Over the rain and thunder, somehow, the English knight heard it coming – or saw a flash of the blade – because he suddenly dropped to the ground, but not fast enough. The weapon clipped him as he fell to the ground, sending the ax hurtling off in another direction as it ricocheted. As Artis ran to collect his weapon, Dunsmore ran to attack their victim.

  Troy was dazed but he wasn’t senseless. The handle of the halberd had hit him in the forehead but he lay there for a moment, listening very carefully to what was coming next. He was under attack, and without his broadsword or his armor. So the best thing he could do was wait and listen to see what the enemy was going to do next. Lying on the ground was also the best way for him to make the smallest target. Therefore, he lay there, waiting, and in little time, he heard footsteps running in his direction.

  He was ready.

  The footfalls came very close and he quickly rolled into them, intending to trip his attacker, which he did quite ably. He rolled right into the man’s feet and tripped him up. He heard the man grunt as he fell over him, right into the mud. When he did, Troy leaped to his feet and pounced. Ripping the short sword from the man’s grip, he cut his enemy’s throat before he ever saw his face.

  In truth, he didn’t care who the man was. All he knew was that the man was trying to kill him. Therefore, Dunsmore Kerr died with his face in the mud and blood pouring out of a gash in his neck that ran from one ear to the other, defeated by the Sassenach he had thought would make an easy kill.

  Not so easy, after all.

  But Troy didn’t know who the man was and he surely didn’t care. He didn’t recognize him as Rhoswyn’s cousin. He had a weapon now and as he turned, he saw Artis running in his direction with the halberd held high. It was a mistake; Troy went down to one knee and undercut Artis, slicing the man through the midsection, literally. When Artis didn’t fall fast enough, Troy stood up, dropped the sword, and used his hands to snap Artis’ neck. He, too, then fell to the mud next to his brother, his head twisted all the way around so that even though he’d fallen on his chest, his face was pointing up at the angry sky.

  Two men dead in less than a minute.

  Troy picked up the short sword and collected the halberd where it fell, feeling the rush of battle. He wasn’t surprised by the attack, to be honest, considering the reception he’d received when he’d arrived. But now he was sure there were more to come. Surely there weren’t only two men trying to kill him; surely the whole damnable clan was out for his blood. He lifted his weapons and bellowed to the entire complex.

  “Are there more of you?” he shouted. “Come now and let me take a piece of you!”

  His shouts reverberated off the stone and some of Keith’s men, who had risen at dawn to go about their chores, emerged from their sleeping areas. There were outbuildings as well as stables, and since space was at a premium, men slept anywhere they could. Now, they were emerging to see two dead bodies on the ground and an enraged English knight. Even for the Scots, it was a shocking sight.

  An enraged Troy with weapons in his hands was the first thing Rhoswyn saw as she came flying out of the tower alongside her father. Troy was posturing for battle and blood pouring down the left side of his face, while two dead bodies lay at his feet. As she approached, she could see that the dead men were her cousins. But, much like Troy, she had no idea if there were more.

  As enraged as Troy was, Rhoswyn was even more enraged. She couldn’t believe that her clansmen would attack her husband, unprovoked. In truth, she wasn’t even upset to see that her cousins had been killed; they had attacked Troy and he had every right to defend himself.

  “Who else will move against me husband?” she shouted at the men who were emerging into the yard to see what the commotion was about. “If ye want him, ye’ll have tae come through me first! Who will be the bravest?”

  As Troy and Rhoswyn were positioned for a fight, Keith’s reaction was markedly different. He was reeling with disbelief as he stood over Artis, looking at the destruction Troy had unleashed on the man. He was sickened at the sight; sickened for his brother and for a legacy that had been so instantly and brutally ended. As he stood there looking at Artis, and then Dunsmore, all he could do was shake his head.

  He simply didn’t understand.

  “What did they do?” he asked the painful question. “Why… why did they do this?”

  Rhoswyn heard the question. She whirled to her father, her eyes flashing. “Because they hated him,” she hissed. “Look what they did tae him; they tried tae kill him! We all saw it!”

  More men were emerging to see what had happened, including Audric. He’d been sleeping like a rock when shouting had awakened him. By the time he emerged from the sod house, it was to see Troy fending off two Scotsmen who were woefully underclassed against Troy’s knightly training. His first instinct had been to rush in and help Troy, also, and he’d even picked up a pitchfork that had been leaning against the stable wall. But Audric wasn’t a fool – as he’d told Troy in Jedburgh, he was better off being far away from a battle. He wouldn’t have been any good, but he would have tried, pitchfork and all. Thankfully, it seemed he wasn’t needed.

  Still, a mood of shock and confusion was filling the air as everyone was trying to figure out what had really happened. Troy couldn’t let his guard down and Rhoswyn wouldn’t, and as they stood there, waiting for something more to come charging out at Troy, they all heard a groan coming from the direction of the tower.

  It was Fergus. The man emerged into the muddy, rainy morning, his gaze on his dead sons. He groaned again when he realized that it was both sons on the ground, bleeding into the mud. He staggered over to Artis as Keith simply stood there, unable to help his brother. Fergus fell to his knees beside his oldest son, grabbing at the man, trying to pull him to his feet.

  “Nay, nay,” he moaned. “What has happened? Who did this?”

  Before Troy could answer, Rhoswyn did. “They tried tae kill me husband,” she said angrily. “Pa and I saw it. They threw an ax at his head and tried tae kill him. They’re dead because my husband had tae defend himself against them!”

  Fergus stopped trying to pull at his son. He could see, clearly, that the man was dead, but the words spouted by Rhoswyn had him reeling. The man could hardly catch his breath.

  “My God,” he gasped. “I can hardly believe… I canna believe they would do such a thing.”

  Keith looked at his brother. “They did,” he said, sighing heavily. “They tried tae kill the man and he has the right tae defend himself. But why would they do it, Fergus? They never made mention of their hatred towards him. I never heard them mention a word about it.”

  Fergus’ hands flew to his head as if in agony. “
They did it because… they must have done it because they were afraid.”

  Keith frowned. “Afraid of what?”

  Fergus was sliding deeper and deeper into anguish. “Afraid of this marriage ye made without consultin’ the rest of us,” he said. “We discussed it on the day ye forced yer daughter intae this marriage and me sons were unhappy about it, but I never thought they’d act against him. I never thought…”

  He trailed off and Keith’s brow furrowed, confused by what his brother was telling him. “Act against him?” he repeated. “What do ye mean?”

  “I mean that ye should have consulted with all of us before ye married Rhosie to a Sassenach!”

  Keith’s brow furrowed. “Twas not yer decision tae make.”

  Now, Fergus was moving swiftly from shock to anger. “It ’twas!” he cried. “When ye married her tae an outlander, ye threatened everythin’ we have! Me lads had a right tae fight for it!”

  Keith’s confusion was growing. “They have a right tae nothin’,” he hissed. “Everythin’ at Sibbald’s is mine tae do with as I please. They are not me sons – they have no right tae anythin’ unless I say they do!”

  Fergus stood up, weaving unsteadily as he faced off against his brother. “Only by birth are ye our father’s heir,” he said, his voice quaking with emotion. “Ye have no sons, only a lass ye tried tae make intae a son. But she’s not a son. Dunna ye even know that? Because of her, everythin’ ye had would go tae me upon yer death, and from me it would go tae me sons. Sibbald and her fortune belongs tae us and they wanted tae protect it from the Sassenach who dinna deserve any of it!”

  “I say who deserves it!”

  “Me sons are dead because of ye!”

  With that, Fergus suddenly lifted his hand and it was too late that Keith realized his brother had a dirk. All good Scotsmen had dirks, as part of what they wore on a daily basis. It was an unusual man who did not arm himself, even at home. But instead of lunging at Keith, in his madness, Fergus lunged in Rhoswyn’s direction.