WolfeLord: de Wolfe Pack Generations

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Least of all Adria.

  It was simply the way of things.

  Pushing the state of Will and Lily’s marriage aside, for there was no use thinking on something that really wasn’t any of her affair, she turned back towards the washerwoman who was carefully scrubbing the blue fabric with the soapwort. She could see the woman from where she was standing. Around her, the castle was coming alive as the morning deepened, with men on the walls changing shifts and the servants below going about their duties.

  The kitchens were in full swing by this time, preparing for the smaller nooning meal and then the feast that night. Adria could hear shouting on the walls and she shielded her eyes from the rising sun, looking up to see what the trouble was. There didn’t seem to be anything of note more than soldiers yelling at one another so she lowered her hand as she reached the washerwoman and the blue fabric, now stretched out on a table.

  “Good morn, my lady.”

  The greeting came from behind. Adria turned to see Hermes de Norville standing behind her, smiling timidly. She smiled politely in return.

  “Good morn, Sir Hermes,” she said. “What brings you to the kitchen yard?”

  His smile turned genuine. “You,” he said frankly. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you.”

  Adria nodded hesitantly, following him a few steps away from the washerwomen. When he turned to face her, she looked at him curiously.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

  Hermes shook his head. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “Nothing is wrong. I was wondering… well, I hope you do not think I am being too bold by asking, but I was wondering if you would be interested in accompanying me to Gretna. I was passing through the other day and it seems that they are having a festival this week. There is food and music. It might be enjoyable.”

  Adria stared at him for a moment. It wasn’t the first time Hermes had asked her to keep company with him. When they went to mass every week, he always tried to stand with her or get near her somehow. Last month, there had been a traveling entertainment in Carlisle, acting out stories from the bible on the backs of wagons, and he had asked her if she would like him to escort her. She told him no – always, no. Just as she’d told Lily, they had nothing in common but the truth was that she simply wasn’t attracted to him.

  Poor Hermes.

  It wasn’t that he wasn’t handsome or kind. He was handsome, and very tall, with a crown of reddish-blond hair and blue eyes. He was a cousin to Will on both his mother and father’s side, as Will’s father’s sister had married his mother’s brother. Hermes was kind to her and the other women at Carlisle. But with the men, he could be a little… wild. She’d heard Will tell stories of how Hermes and his brother, Atreus, were veritable wild men when they got together, and in battle, Hermes was fearless – and not in a good way. Reckless, she’d heard Will say, but his skill saved him from losing his life.

  The fact remained, however, that she didn’t want to give him any encouragement where there was no hope.

  She felt bad about it.

  “It sounds most enjoyable,” she agreed. “But I am sorry to say that I cannot leave Lady de Wolfe at this time. You know that she is nearing the birth of her child and, even now, Lord de Wolfe has asked me to take charge of little Atticus until such time as his mother can tend to him again. So, you see, I have a great many things that I am responsible for. I cannot leave the castle at this time.”

  Hermes was nodding even before she finished her sentence, perhaps embarrassed that he’d been refused yet again.

  “I understand completely, my lady,” he said. “Mayhap another time.”

  He said that every time she turned him away and, every time, she would simply nod and agree.

  But not this time.

  “Sir Hermes,” she said hesitantly. “I pray you do not think me cruel for refusing your kind invitations, but I fear that I must be completely honest with you. May I?”

  He eyed her with some apprehension, but like a gentleman, he nodded. “Of course, my lady,” he said. “I would hope we are always honest with one another.”

  He said it, but he didn’t mean it. Honestly would mean disappointment for him, but Adria had no choice if they were to end this uncomfortable and depressing dance they did on a regular basis.

  “Then I must tell you that although I am very flattered by your invitations, I am afraid that I am simply not interested in anything other than a pleasant friendship,” she said. “I have no intention of marrying you or anyone else at this time, so if you had something more in mind, then I am sorry to disappoint you.”

  He sighed, producing another forced smile as his cheeks turned a dull shade of red. “I had a feeling that was the situation,” he said. “I was trying not to make a nuisance out of myself, but… well, I told myself it didn’t hurt to ask. Mayhap one of these days you might agree.”

  Adria smiled at the man, seeing how embarrassed he was. “If you mean to invite me simply as your friend, I would be happy to agree should the situation warrant it,” she said. “You and I have known each other for a couple of years and I have found you pleasant and good conversation, but I am simply not interested in anything more. I am sorry.”

  He scratched his head in a nervous gesture. “Don’t be,” he said. “You are being truthful and I appreciate it. If being your friend is all I can be, then I shall take it gladly.”

  “Good. I would like that.”

  “Then one of these days you might accompany me to an entertainment as my friend?”

  “As your friend, I should like that.”

  There was nothing more to say at that point and he simply lifted a hand to beg his leave. Adria watched him go as he headed out of the kitchen yard, breathing a sigh of relief that this might actually be the last time she had to turn him down, at least in that sense. He was a nice man, but she simply wasn’t interested.

  She wondered how long it would be before he forgot that.

  “Is he bothering you again?”

  Yet another voice came from behind and she turned to her left to see Ronan standing there. She had no idea how he’d even gotten into the kitchen yard without her seeing him.

  “Where did you come from?” she asked.

  Ronan grinned. He was young and very handsome and muscular, with blond hair and glittering, dark eyes. He was usually the strong and silent type, having inherited his manner from his late grandfather, Kieran Hage. He also had Kieran’s eyes, those dark eyes that seemed to look right through a man’s soul. Or a woman’s. Adria had never met the legendary Sir Kieran Hage, as he’d died several years earlier, but she’d heard enough about him. She’d also met his sons, Alec and Nathaniel, and Ronan definitely had that big, well-built look about him like the Hage men did.

  But his intelligence, his skill, was purely de Wolfe.

  “I came through the postern gate,” he said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “What did that big dunce want?”

  Adria had to fight off a grin. Ronan never really said much, but when he did, he was to the point. Hermes was not his cousin by blood, but the entire de Wolfe – de Norville – Hage families were so intertwined that they were really just one big family, so Ronan treated Hermes as he would a cousin.

  An annoying one, but a cousin nonetheless.

  “It is not of your affair,” she said. “And he wasn’t bothering me.”

  Ronan cast her a long look. “I’ve seen how he looks at you and how you want to run from him,” he said. “Do not try and fool me.”

  “I am not trying to fool anyone.”

  “Should I chase him away for good?”

  “I can chase him away myself if I wish, so I do not need your help.”

  Ronan snorted. “I think I’ll find him and pound on him a bit,” he said. “He’s due for a beating, anyway.”

  Adria rolled her eyes. “He’s taller than you are,” she said. “And I know that he’s a madman in battle, so do you really want to provoke him?”

>   Ronan puffed up. “I’m bigger and stronger than he is,” he pointed out. “Hermes is a madman in battle, but foolish at times. Besides… he’s only half the man without his brother around. The two of them together are like a tempest.”

  “It is a pity they cannot serve together.”

  Ronan frowned. “Have you met Atreus de Norville?”

  “Once or twice.”

  Ronan shook his head. “You do not want the two of them together unless we are going into battle,” he said. “It is well known that Hermes is the kindling and Atreus is the spark. The only safe thing to do is keep them apart unless we want an explosion.”

  Adria simply nodded, noting that the washerwoman were carefully rubbing in the soapwart to the fabric, testing sections to make sure the blue dye didn’t fade out or run.

  “Thank you for the stimulating conversation,” she said, distracted. “I have tasks to attend to now.”

  Ronan nodded, but he didn’t move away. “What did Hermes want?”

  Adria sighed with frustration. “If you must know, he was speaking of an entertainment in Gretna,” she said. “He had just come through town and thought I might like to hear about it.”

  “He invited you to go see it, didn’t he?”

  “What business is that of yours?”

  Ronan grinned, eyeing her. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Near Hexham, there is a tavern called The Temple. My father has taken me there before because it is known far and wide for the food it serves. Delicious and mysterious food that the lost legions used to eat. Men who built the walls along the Scots borders.”

  Adria looked at him. “I’ve heard of those men,” she said. “If they’re lost, then how do you know what they ate?”

  Ronan laughed. “Because there are families in the north who have those lost legions in their blood,” he said. “The secrets of their food have been passed down for centuries and The Temple prepares that food. I think you would like it.”

  Her brow furrowed. “How do you know what I would like?”

  He lifted his big shoulders. “It’s only a guess,” he said. “The last time I was there, they had cabbage with vinegar and honey, and a soft cheese with a great deal of garlic and salt in it, spread upon bread. It was delicious.”

  Adria still wasn’t convinced. “Too much garlic makes my belly ache,” she said. “I am not sure that I would…”

  She was cut off when she heard a shout, turning to see Gar entering the kitchen yard. The sight of her father had Adria’s annoyance rising immediately. She was hoping the man wouldn’t come out to wander the grounds of Carlisle, but she supposed that was too much to ask. Reluctantly, she lifted her hand in greeting.

  “Who is that?” Ronan asked.

  Adria sighed faintly. “My father.”

  “Good morn, Daughter,” Gar said as he came near. “I did not see you last evening before I went to bed. Are you well?”

  Adria nodded. “Quite well,” she said, now seeing that Gar was looking at Ronan curiously. “Papa, this is Sir Ronan de Wolfe. Sir Ronan, this is my father, St. Ansgar de Geld, Lord Alcester.”

  Gar greeted the handsome young knight with more enthusiasm than he should have. “An honor, my lord,” he said. But then he looked at his daughter. “I just saw another young knight leaving the yard. Another de Wolfe?”

  Adria suspected what her father was fishing for. “Nay,” she said. “A de Norville. Sir Hermes de Norville.”

  That apparently wasn’t as much of a lure as a de Wolfe knight. Gar returned his attention to Ronan. “You are a brother to Lord de Wolfe?” he asked.

  Ronan shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he said. “He is my cousin. Our fathers are brothers.”

  “Who is your father?”

  “He was born Sir James de Wolfe, the fourth son of the Earl of Warenton and his wife, but through a situation too complex to quickly describe, he is known as Blayth,” he said. “I am his eldest son.”

  “Blayth,” Gar said thoughtfully. “That is Welsh for wolf, is it not?”

  “It is, my lord.”

  Gar simply nodded, not delving into that curious name change because he honestly didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that he had a de Wolfe son in front of him. Not just any son, but a first born.

  And unmarried. Young, but unmarried.

  His hunting instincts took hold.

  “How interesting,” he said. “And you serve your cousin?”

  “I do, my lord.”

  Gar looked up at the walls of Carlisle. “You and your wife do not mind raising your children in such a wild place as Carlisle, then?”

  As Adria sighed heavily, knowing exactly what her father was up to, Ronan shook his head. “I am not married, my lord,” he said.

  “Oh?” Gar said. “You are young, that is true, but if a man is old enough to hold a sword, he is old enough to hold a wife.”

  “I have never heard it put that way before, but you may be right.”

  “I am sure your mother would think so,” Gar said. “Does she not want grandchildren?”

  Ronan laughed softly, slightly embarrassed. “I am certain she does, someday,” he said. “Like most mothers, I am certain she wishes to see me settled and happy.”

  Gar smiled. “You are handsome and titled,” she said. “I am sure a fine match will come along very soon for you. Mayhap it is even right under your nose and you do not realize it yet.”

  Adria stepped in; she had to. If her father kept on, she’d be betrothed to Ronan before the nooning meal.

  “Papa, Sir Ronan has duties to attend to,” she said, putting herself between Ronan and her father and taking the man’s arm. “And I have something I must speak to you about. Sir Ronan, will you please excuse us?”

  Ronan nodded, glad for the excuse to escape the man asking personal questions. Adria waited until he was nearly through the kitchen gate before dropping her father’s arm and turning to him angrily.

  “How dare you embarrass me like that,” she hissed. “My God, Papa, have you no shame? Asking such prying questions?”

  Gar’s eyes narrowed. “You must marry,” he hissed right back at her. “How dare you overlook an eligible knight in your very midst. And not just any knight – a de Wolfe son! Why not him?”

  Adria growled in frustration and turned away. “I will not have this conversation with you,” she said, leading him away from the washerwomen so they would not hear. “I do not wish to marry him or anyone else right now.”

  Gar was following her, pleading. “What is wrong with him?” he asked. “Why not?”

  She came to a halt and whirled on him. “Because he is simply a knight who serves Lord de Wolfe and nothing more,” she said. “I am Lady de Wolfe’s lady-in-waiting. It is a good position and I will not have you embarrass me by trying to marry me off.”

  Gar was losing his patience. “I told you that if you do not marry de Brito, then you must marry a wealthy man to pay off my debt to Silas,” he growled. “A debt I entered into for you, so you could find a position in life.”

  “You did not!”

  “I did,” he snapped. “The deal was that you would marry him when you came of age or I would pay him back the money – whatever the situation warranted. One way or the other, I will have my pound of flesh from you, so you had better quickly decide what that will be, for I am not leaving Carlisle until you either agree to come with me or agree to marry someone with wealth. What will your choice be?”

  Adria was back to feeling angry and frustrated with her father. That was why she had avoided him the night before, why she had hoped to avoid him this morning. But here he was, back again, and his demands hadn’t changed.

  Anger gave way to disgust.

  “It is always the same song with you,” she muttered. “Your debts ruined you and borrowing money to educate me has put you in a position where you would see my life ruined to pay for your bad judgment. What happens if I marry de Brito, Papa? What happens then? Does he magically pay your debts? Is Alc
ester magically restored? Or do you simply intend to use me to get money from my husband to support your gambling habit?”

  Gar gazed at her steadily. “What else are you good for?”

  He may as well have slapped her. Adria looked at the man in utter revulsion, trying not to feel hurt by his statement.

  But she couldn’t quite manage it.

  “Nothing,” she said hoarsely. “Absolutely nothing. I was born to a vile beast of a father who killed my mother with his immoral behavior and has only sought to use me for his own repellent purposes. Do you know why I will not marry? Because I want to see you suffer. I want to see Silas de Brito punish you for not repaying your debt. I want to see you drown in the gutter, a victim of your own foolishness. That is why I will not marry and I swear, with God as my witness, that I will commit myself to the cloister before I marry anyone just because you want me to. Go home, Papa. I do not want to see you anymore.”

  With that, she pushed past him, heading from the kitchen yard. The blue fabric was forgotten; everything was forgotten.

  Even her father.

  But Gar was still standing there, watching her go. He had no intention of leaving. Adria was stubborn, but he was stronger. He’d stick around if only to break her down into doing what he wanted her to do. The time had come for that and he wasn’t going to give up.

  In fact, he had a de Wolfe son on his mind now.

  The perfect husband, related to a perfect fortune.

  He was going to see what he could do about it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I do not understand why he keeps coming to see me,” Lily said. “It has been well over a week since he first examined me, but he comes back every day and performs the exact same examination as he did the first time. Why is he doing this, Will? What is he looking for?”

  Will was standing in the big chamber, listening to Lily’s question but also listening to Atticus whine and fuss because Adria was trying to clean the lad up before dressing him. It was a chilly morning on the borders, a clear morning after several days of an unseasonable rain. Everything was drying out under clear skies, at least for the moment.