World of De Wolfe Pack: Tall, Dark & De Wolfe (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 3)

by Barbara Devlin

  “If I remember correctly, you thought it a brilliant plan, at the time.” Arsenius scowled, and Titus scored a direct blow. “How was I to know our mothers would find sport in our queries?”

  “What is this?” Father glanced at Uncle Titus, and it was too late when Titus realized his misstep. “They sought the counsel of our wives, when we were available? Are we not thriving husbands?”

  Arsenius rolled his eyes.

  “Indeed, so it appears.” Uncle Titus rubbed the back of his neck and said to Arsenius, “To what end did you consult with your mother?”

  Perchance, if Titus were lucky, Arsenius knew better than to admit the truth.

  “We wanted to know how best to achieve the consummation with our virgin brides, to foster amity, as opposed to fear.” Bowing his head, Arsenius shuffled his feet, and Titus was not so lucky, after all. “As neither of us possesses much experience with such creatures.”

  “Oh?” Uncle Titus thrust his chest, when Arsenius hesitated. “Well, out with it. What did your mama have to say on the matter?”

  Desperate, Titus attempted to stem the tide. “It is not what you suppose, as they did not—”

  “That you were nervous.” Arsenius cleared his throat, and Titus winced. “And you would not stop talking.”

  Father burst into laughter, and Titus cast daggers at Arsenius, because he courted danger.

  “I beg your pardon?” Uncle Titus blushed a vivid red.

  “See what you made me do?” Arsenius inquired.

  “How is this my fault?” Titus sought shelter but found none.

  “You brought it up, when you should have said naught.” Then Arsenius lowered his stare. “But you have yet to apprise Uncle Atticus of your mother’s revelations.”

  “What say you?” Father grew quiet, Arsenius waggled his brows, and Titus promised to even the score, at the first opportunity. “You expect me to believe Isobeau was nothing if not pleased with my performance?”

  “Actually, Mama said you delayed.” Given their newfound camaraderie, in the wake of their talk, Titus could not resist goading his sire. “But it was magic, when at last you came together.”

  “I am not sure how I feel about that, and what did she mean?” Father grimaced, as Uncle Titus chuckled. “In my defense, what would you expect, as we were grieving the loss of my brother, and she was with child. How could I rush her to the marriage bed? And we obviously did something right, as we produced you.”

  “Let us face it, women are a mystery, and we are but poor souls attempting to navigate their territory.” Uncle Titus shifted his weight and grinned. “And what luscious territory it is, which is wherefore we are distracted and often lose our way.”

  “I second that, as Isobeau has but to flick her fingers, and I am at her service, but do not ever tell her that.” Father smiled a smile foreign to Titus, and then his sire snapped to attention. “Which is wherefore you must manage wives with a firm hand.”

  Arsenius leaned near and said, in a low voice, “This is going to hurt.”

  “I concur.” Oblivious to the secondary discussion, Uncle Titus nodded. “In so many ways, they are like children, in need of direction and discipline, which you must dispense, but never injure them.”

  “You were the one that told them the truth,” Titus whispered. “And I think we should listen to what our mamas recommended, but do us both a favor, and do not admit that to our fathers, or we are in trouble, and I will never make it to the altar.”

  “Definitely.” As their sires extended well-intended but misguided input, about ensuring their wives knew their place and that the men ruled the castle, which could not be more wrong if experience was any indication, Arsenius counted on his fingers. “Bring her flowers, read to her, take her for long rides, just the two of you, talk to her, and listen to her.”

  “And share her interests.” Titus committed the advice to memory, though it sounded more like torture. “But, most important, postpone the consummation, for her sake and your sanity, which I am only too happy to grant.”

  “Which I did, with much success.” Arsenius glanced at their fathers, who argued about various methods of correction for disobedient wives. “Senara kissed me—more than once, and I liked it.”

  “Oh?” Now that garnered Titus’s attention. “Anything interesting happen?”

  “To reveal more would be ungentlemanly.” Arsenius adopted a cocky stance. “But I am hopeful, cousin.”

  “Titus.” Father stomped a foot on the flagged surface. “Are you listening?”

  “Aye, sir.” Titus clicked his heels. “Beat her regularly, and keep her with child.”

  “Uh, Father, I believe it is past due for us to journey to the chapel.” Arsenius elbowed Titus in the ribs. “And I should ensure everything is ready for my cousin’s nuptials, as he did the same for me.”

  “Ah, yes.” Uncle Titus yanked open the portal. “Come, my son. Let us collect Desi and Senara and away to the chapel.”

  “I should come with you, as it would not be very wise to keep my fiancée in angst.” Titus all but ran toward the door.

  “Wait.” Father caught Titus by the arm. “I would have words with you, my son.”

  “Of course.” Anxious, he dragged his feet, as he walked toward the hearth and propped an elbow on the mantel. “Is everything all right?”

  “There are a few things I would share, on this special occasion.” Father eased to one of the two large chairs, near the fire. “Come and sit, as I have long practiced my speech, for this moment, and I would do it justice, although I am nervous.”

  “You?” Titus settled beside his uncharacteristically tense sire. “Nervous?”

  “Aye.” Father compressed his lips and gazed at his clenched fists. Then he seemed to relax. “When I married your mother, I did not harbor any great affection for her, but that was not her fault. You see, we were as strangers when I took Isobeau as my wife, in fulfillment of a promise to my brother, and I cannot pretend I knew what I was doing, as the only life I had known was that of a warrior. What is required of a husband is altogether different.”

  “So I am learning.” How Titus wished he had enjoyed such talks with his father, prior to his betrothal. “Have you any real advice to offer?”

  “I do, and I hope you are willing to accept the challenge.” Father met Titus’s stare. “After the wedding, I believed I competed with the memory and the love of my brother. What I later learned was that Isobeau and Titus shared the affection of friends. When we discovered your Uncle Titus was my brother’s issue, we realized that Margreit d’Engagne, later Saint-Germain, was Titus’s true love. In some respects, that knowledge affirmed the deep and abiding love that your mother and I share. In short, Isobeau owns my heart, but we never would have found love had I not been open to the possibility.”

  “And you want the same for me.” Never had his father spoken with such feeling, and it was not lost on Titus. “You would have me love Rosenwyn.”

  For as long as he could remember, he admired his father. When he was a boy, he played with a wooden sword and pretended to be the great Lion of the North. Wanted to be like him, in all things. Whereas he once viewed his father as a larger than life knight, they now stood shoulder to shoulder. Yet his father seemed the bigger man, in every way.

  “Aye.” Father nodded. “It is a provocation unlike any you have ever faced, and it requires bravery, to confront new and unfamiliar territory, sacrifice, to give your heart to another, and trust that Rosenwyn will yield hers to you, and commitment, to nurture and protect that love, as only a man can comprehend, but I submit it is your destiny, as you are a De Wolfe. And should you succeed, the reward is yours for the taking, and it is a priceless treasure, sans pareil.”

  “I hear you, Father.” Titus stiffened his spine. “On my honor, I will not disappoint you.”

  “This is not about me.” He sighed. “This is about you achieving the greatest gift of all. But whatever happens, know that I am proud of you.”

&
nbsp; Just then, Mama flung open the door to the inner bedchamber, and Father stilled and paled. Slowly, he stood, and Titus followed suit. Mama marched directly to Father, perched on her toes, and cupped his cheek.

  “You are forgiven for your previous, disingenuous comments, as you have never disciplined me, but that was a lovely speech, and I am sure it soothed your manly pride.” Then she kissed him, and Titus averted his stare. “And I love you, too.” Just as quick, she stepped back, brushed off the skirt of her emerald green gown, lifted her chin, and snapped her fingers. “Now, let us away, else we will be late for our son’s wedding, and that would make me unhappy. I am certain you do not wish to court such danger on what should be an otherwise joyous day.”

  “We cannot have that, my dear.” As she strolled into the hall, Father leaned toward Titus and whispered, “For your own safety, never forget that wives rule the castle.”

  Titus bit back a snort of laughter. “I know, Father.”

  ~

  Pacing before the hearth, Rosenwyn wrung her fingers. On the table, a light repast remained untouched, as she was too nervous to eat. At the window, she peered at the ground and pondered an escape, but she suspected she would only succeed in breaking her neck.

  “Prithee, do not do it, Rosenwyn.” Senara called, as if from afar. “It is not worth it, and we have lost enough.”

  “In fairness, I was not seriously contemplating a leap.” Rosenwyn glanced over her shoulder and smiled at her lifelong friend. “I thought you departed for the chapel.”

  “I asked my husband if I could ride with you, and he consented, as he is most accommodating.” With outstretched arms, Senara drew near, and Rosenwyn walked into her friend’s embrace. “In fact, Arsenius is kind, and he extends protection to my family. To my relief, Mama, Papa, and Ysella will remain at Bellesea, and Arsenius promised to secure a suitable match for my sister. Wherefore would he do all that, if he intended to harm me? Is that not wonderful?”

  “Of course, and I am happy for you. But what of your union?” She rested her head to Senara’s shoulder. “Tell me everything that happened, last night.”

  “Naught happened.” Senara set Rosenwyn at arm’s length. “Arsenius suggested we postpone the consummation, until we are better acquainted.”

  “Indeed?” She opened her mouth and then closed it. “Titus recommended the same delay. What do you make of that?”

  “That we are fortunate, because once we take the sacrament, we belong to our husbands, and they have every right to seize what they are owed, with or without our consent.” Senara tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “Given what Mama told me of the deed, and Arsenius’s size, I am grateful for the deferment.”

  “So you know what to expect?” When Senara nodded and blushed, Rosenwyn dragged her friend to the bed, and they sat at the edge of the mattress. “You must share everything you know, as Mama told me naught of the particulars, and I am terrified of the unknown and my future husband.”

  “You mean you know naught of marital relations?” Senara gasped, when Rosenwyn indicated the affirmative. “Not even what is required of you?”

  “I know naught.” Given her ignorance, Rosenwyn wanted to cry. “Mama could not bring herself to explain. Will you help me?”

  “Oh, dear.” Senara clenched her hands. “The information is new to me, and I have yet to put it into practice, but I will share what I know, in Mama’s words, which were rather startling, to say the least.” She scooted close. “But I cannot say it aloud, as I simply do not possess the nerve or the experience, so I will whisper it in your ear.”

  “All right. Mayhap it might not prove so shocking.” At least, that was what Rosenwyn hoped. However, the more Senara imparted, the more agitated Rosenwyn grew, until she could not sit still. When she could take no more, she pushed from the bed and folded her arms in front of her. “Are you certain that is whither it goes?”

  “Aye.” Senara dipped her chin. “Believe me, I was just as confused, and I asked Mama to clarify, which she did, much to my distress and embarrassment, but she assured me it will fit.”

  “I cannot imagine it is possible.” In the long mirror, Rosenwyn studied her appearance, and the blue gown, the color of purity, and tried to envision Titus engaging her in the behavior Senara just described, which sounded anything but pure. “While I do not question your mother’s honesty, I cannot fathom what you detailed, as it defies reason. Have you ever seen that part of a man? It must be quite small.”

  “No, and I am in no hurry to, either.” Senara bit her lip. “But I know I must yield, as I am Arsenius’s wife, and I am just as terrified as you. For our sakes, I hope it is very modest.”

  A knock at the door brought Rosenwyn alert. “Come.”

  “We must leave, at once, for the chapel,” Petroc replied. “Are you ready?”

  “Aye.” She remained where she stood. “Senara, I require your assistance, as I do not think I can move.”

  “You can do it, my friend.” Senara offered support. “Just put one foot in front of the other, and it is not so difficult as you might believe.”

  “I cannot do it.” Rosenwyn shook her head. “I cannot marry him. The man is a mountain, and he plans to sleep atop me? He will crush me. As for the rest of the act, absolutely not.”

  “Do not be silly, and do not be alarmed.” Senara nudged Rosenwyn forward, as Petroc pounded on the wood panel and shouted a second summons. “If you refuse to marry Sir Titus, His Majesty will surely have your head, as well as those of your mother and your brother. You lost your father. Is that not enough?”

  “You are right. I know you are right, but that does not make the situation any easier to tolerate.” She leaned against her friend and found much needed succor. “But I am tired of being afraid. I need to believe in something. In someone.”

  “Then take your vows, and be my sister, as well as a De Wolfe.” Senara stroked Rosenwyn’s plaited hair. “I know you are afraid, because I was, too. But I believe—I have to believe the De Wolfes are honorable people, and you need only have faith.”

  “Rosenwyn.” Petroc again struck the door. “We must go, now.”

  Resolved to meet the challenge, she stretched upright, wiped a tear, and summoned courage. Clasping her friend’s hand, Rosenwyn squared her shoulders and charged forth.

  “I apologize, brother, for keeping you waiting.” The look on his face gave her pause. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, but I feel as though I am delivering you to the executioner.” He bowed his head. “I failed you, Rosenwyn. In father’s absence, I did not protect you, but I have a plan that may rescue you both.” He glanced at Senara and frowned. “While I cannot delay the nuptials, the fight is just beginning. We may have lost the first battle, but we will win the war.”

  “Petroc, you must cease such talk, as it would bring about naught but trouble.” Senara pulled Rosenwyn past him. “I am married, and you cannot change that. Before God, I pledged my troth, and Arsenius owns me, now.”

  “You were mine.” Petroc snarled as an angry dog. “You were betrothed to me, from birth.”

  “As subjects of the Crown, we wed by the King’s commission.” Senara tugged on Rosenwyn’s hand, and they descended the stairs. “What we desire must perforce yield to his edicts, on pain of death. We have no choice.”

  “Mayhap you have surrendered, and I cannot prevent this miscarriage of justice, but that does not mean I am defeated.” In the main entry, Petroc took his place at Rosenwyn’s side. “I have a plan, and victory will be mine, over the De Wolfes.”

  “Prithee, lower your voice, or do you wish to destroy us, all?” Glancing left and then right, in search of an unwelcome servant, Rosenwyn wrenched her brother to attention. His argument forced her to accept the terms required of her, and she could not waver in her decision. “What you speak is madness and would bring about naught but misery. Consider Mama, and hold your tongue. I know it wounds your pride, but we must accept that we are the conquered, and I am soon to be the
property of Titus de Wolfe. Now, let us away.”

  With that, she marched into the bailey, to the waiting coach, stepped inside, and eased to the squabs. Senara occupied the place beside Rosenwyn, and Petroc assumed the position opposite the ladies. The equipage lurched forward, and in silence they made the brief but stressful journey to the estate chapel, whither the witnesses gathered.

  Tension grew in direction proportion to each successive step that brought her to the altar, as she descended the coach, strolled to the chapel, entered the otherwise charming stone structure, and loomed at one end of the aisle. Filling the pews were the De Wolfes and their extended relations, all of whom smiled and stood, as she approached her husband-to-be.

  As Petroc returned to sit beside their mother, Titus drew Rosenwyn near.

  “Your hands are cold, my lady.” He rubbed her fingers. “And you shiver.”

  “Apologies, my lord.” Garbed all in black, from his doublet to his hose, Titus would have struck terror in the bravest knight, so she considered her reaction understandable. “I am nervous.”

  “So am I.” When he smiled, he revealed a dimple, which did little to dispel his formidable appearance. “What say we rely on each other, to survive?”

  “Given the necessary parties are present, let us begin.” Vicar Bernard held high the cross. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

  The ceremony passed in a haze of fear mixed with nausea, as Rosenwyn swallowed hard and committed herself to a man who remained very much a stranger. To her shame, the vicar had to prompt her more than once for a response, and she cursed herself as her voice shook, but she took her vows, in obeisance of His Majesty’s decree. But it was last oath Titus declared, in kind, that persuaded her to reflect on Senara’s reasoning.

  “From this day forward, you shall not walk alone.” With fingers entwined, Titus met Rosenwyn’s stare, and the weight of his gaze seemed to cut through her. “My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home.”