WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She was only concerned about the excitement in her heart.

  She was blind to all else.

  Fully dressed in the lovely red clothing, Gavriella then stood by the windows overlooking the street outside and watched for that tall, blond man who had been part of the eventful evening the night before. As she waited, she relived the night over and over in her mind, thinking on the very moment she met him up until he brought her home at dawn.

  She thought about their conversations and about his bravery as he had pulled her from the Thames. More and more, she was feeling incredibly foolish about impulsively jumping in the river. But as she explained to Andreas, she really didn’t know why she did it. All she knew was that every event in her life over the past year had built up to that moment and she was desperate to escape it, however stupidly.

  But she didn’t feel like escaping it anymore.

  She felt something she hadn’t felt in a very long time – hope.

  Just as the wait was becoming torturous, Andreas finally made an appearance and Gavriella left the window and rushed to the mirror for one final look at herself. She turned for the door when something on her cousin’s dressing table caught her eye; a golden headband that had a white gossamer veil carefully stitched to it twinkled in the dim light.

  It was a headpiece that a proper maiden would wear and, impulsively, she put it on. With the gold glittering in the light and the soft veil trailing just past her shoulders, she looked prettier than she had ever looked in her life. She wanted Andreas to think so, too.

  God, she needed this, more than she’d ever needed anything.

  Dressed and ready, Gavriella made her way to the chamber door and unbolted it, quietly cracking it open.

  The corridor outside seemed to be still and quiet, so she stepped out of the chamber and silently shut the door. She was acutely aware that Aurelia’s chamber was right next door and she tiptoed past it, moving as swiftly as she could without making a sound. Since the entry door of the manse was directly below, Gavriella silently made her way down the staircase to the reception hall below.

  There were a few servants moving about, but they didn’t pay any attention to her as she went to the front door and threw the bolt. Pulling the door open, she was immediately confronted by two armed soldiers, but they did nothing more than shut the door behind her as she walked out. No questions, no comments. Their job was to guard the door, and guard it they had. Their job was not to question a young woman who was coming out of the manse, unescorted.

  But that didn’t stop them from giving her a queer look.

  Oblivious to the expressions of the soldiers, Gavriella was focused on Andreas across the wide avenue. He was literally all she saw. The man had been watching the front door and when she came through, he came across the street and met her right in the middle.

  For a moment, they simply looked at each other. All they had really seen of each other since their acquaintance had been in dark chambers or in the fog, or in fire-lit rooms. Never out in the sunlight where they could get a good look at one another. From the dark, dank night to the bright light of day, it was literally a world of difference.

  And the difference was staggering.

  “Greetings, my lady,” Andreas said after a moment, a smile playing on his lips. “I am pleased to see that you thought enough of me to keep our engagement.”

  Gavriella smiled broadly. “And I am pleased you thought the same,” she said. “Truthfully, you look quite different than you did last night. I hardly recognized you without all of the bulky things you were wearing.”

  He laughed softly, the dimples in his cheeks carving deep. “That is my usual attire,” he said, holding out his arms to show off his fine clothing. “I confess that this does not belong to me, but to my uncle, who is a diplomat for the king. He forced me to wear it. Something about women liking men in fine clothing and not men who looked like they just crawled off a battlefield. I think he is mad, but I took his advice nonetheless.”

  Gavriella laughed softly because he’d spoken in a jesting manner. “Did he really say that to you?”

  Andreas’ smile was broad. “He did not,” he said. “I just thought to say it to mayhap gain your sympathy. A fighting man does not dress like this, as a rule.”

  Her gray eyes glimmered at him. “You’ll find no sympathy here,” she said. “You look very fine. I like it very much.”

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his gaze moving up and down her thoroughly exquisite dress. “As do you. I… I find myself speechless, my lady. When I met you last night, I had no idea that… well, all I can say is that surely the angels are jealous of your glory.”

  Gavriella’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “You are very kind,” she said. “But I stole this from my cousin because I did not have anything pretty to wear, so mayhap we can move along now? I would hate for her to come running after me and demand I return everything.”

  He offered her an elbow. “I would hate that, as well,” he said. “Hurry, let’s run for it.”

  Gavriella giggled and took his elbow, clutching him tightly as they began to walk swiftly down the road. Andreas took a turn at the first smaller street they came to, disappearing from the view of The Asher.

  But it wasn’t fast enough.

  Neither one of them saw the face in the window on the first floor, looking out over the street. Had they noticed, they would have seen Aurelia watching them run off together. The very sister who had insisted on attending Gomorrah, who adored men, and was threatened by her beautiful cousin now had a reason to hate her.

  A reason to be vindictive.

  Aurelia had always been the queen of The Asher. She had male suitors and considered herself the most sought-after woman in London. She certainly wasn’t willing to relinquish that title to any country mouse. She’d heard her cousin stirring in the next chamber and it had been enough to get her out of bed. She’d even heard Gavriella slip out of the chamber and down the stairs. She’d moved to the window just in time to see her cousin run across the street to meet a man who was perhaps the most handsome man Aurelia had ever seen.

  Jealousy consumed her.

  She wasn’t going to let Gavriella get away with it.

  She went to find her mother.

  “There,” Andreas said, slowing his pace once they were out of sight from The Asher. “We are safe now. No one can see us from your cousin’s house.”

  Gavriella grinned, still holding on to his elbow. “Thankfully,” she said. “I will admit that Camilla is not the issue. I am sure she would not mind that I borrowed her things. It is her older sister that I am worried about.”

  “Was this the cousin who dragged you to Gomorrah last night?”

  “The same.”

  The fact that she was still holding on to his elbow wasn’t lost on Andreas. In fact, he felt like a puffed-up peacock with her on his arm. He’d never felt like that in his life, so this was something of a new experience for him. He was struggling not to feel giddy about it.

  “And you are here visiting?”

  Gavriella nodded. “I am,” she said. “Truthfully, I do not even know my cousins very well. I live so far away that I have rarely seen them in my lifetime, so they are essentially strangers. There are Aurelia and Camilla, and it is Aurelia who seems to be quite… bold.”

  “Like going to Gomorrah.”

  “Exactly.”

  They walked a few more feet as Andreas contemplated what to say next to her. He really only knew her name but nothing more and, understandably, he was quite curious.

  “As I said last night,” he said. “London is much different from a small village in the north. I suspect where you come from is far more sedate than this.”

  Gavriella was looking around, noticing the people, feeling more curious about her surroundings than she had since she had arrived in London.

  “Sedate enough,” she said. “I must admit that I have been very curious about London. Where I come from, people speak of London as if
it is located on the moon. Far away and mysterious.”

  “Have you not been here before, then?”

  “When I was a child, but I do not remember much,” she said. “My father and my cousins’ mother are brother and sister, so my father and I came for some kind of family event. I do not even recall what it was.”

  He glanced over at her, studying the delicate contours of her face. “Here is the part where I would naturally ask you where you came from and what your family name is,” he said. “May I do so?”

  She looked at him, perhaps a little coyly. “I think the only moderately enjoyable thing about Gomorrah was the fact that everyone was anonymous,” she said. “It’s rather fun not knowing who you’re talking to. That means I can imagine a background for you. For all I know, you could be a prince.”

  He grinned. “Or a pauper.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “And I could be a princess of France or I could be the daughter of the most wicked man in England. But you will never know if you only know me by my first name.”

  He laughed softly. “So you wish to continue that way for now?”

  She grinned because he was. “It is rather fun, isn’t it?” she said. “Mayhap we should only ask question of each other with an ‘aye’ or ‘nay’ answer.”

  He was up for the game. “Very well,” he said. “You ask first.”

  She thought on that briefly. “Are you a prince?”

  He burst out laughing. “Nay,” he insisted. “Why? Do I look like one?”

  She shrugged, caught up in the man’s charm. “Possibly,” she said. “That is my point; one can never tell.”

  “That is true,” he said. “Now it is my turn.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Are you the daughter of the most wicked man in England?”

  She snorted. “I am not, I swear.”

  “That is good to know.”

  They were nearing the river at this point, the smell of fish and brine heavy in the breeze. Up ahead was Thames Street, which paralleled the river, and they turned right when they came to the street. It was a busier avenue, full of people going about their business at midday. But Andreas wasn’t paying any attention to the hustle and bustle; his attention was on the woman at his side.

  “Well?” he said. “Any more questions of me?”

  Gavriella realized she’d been off daydreaming about the handsome man next to her, now slightly embarrassed that she’d let the conversation fall off.

  “Well,” she said thoughtfully. “I suppose general questions are acceptable. For example, what might your favorite food be?”

  It was a very tame question, considering the depth of his character and life experience, but he went along with it gladly.

  “I like a good roast of beef,” he said. “When I was a lad, we had a good deal of mutton and I cannot stand the smell or taste of it any longer. Beef is my favorite.”

  “Mine, too,” Gavriella said. “Mutton always tastes like an old shoe to me.”

  He chuckled. “That is very true,” he said. “That is something else we have in common.”

  “Something else?”

  “In addition to our distain of Gomorrah.”

  Gavriella laughed softly. “That is a most important one,” she said. “It is certainly something I will not miss about this place when I return home.”

  He looked at her, then. “Are you planning on leaving soon?”

  Her good humor faded a little. “I am not certain,” she said. “My father sent me here to… to spend time with my aunt and cousins. To rest a little, mayhap experience different things that I would not experience in my village. He thought the change might be good for me. And you? Are you a permanent resident here?”

  He shook his head. “I am not,” he said. “I had come on business for my father, but we are to return soon.”

  “How soon?”

  He looked at her, his gaze intense. “We were to depart tomorrow,” he said. “But now I am not entirely sure I wish to leave yet.”

  A bashful smile played on her lips and she averted her gaze.

  Andreas was completely enchanted.

  They had reached an intersection of another major avenue, called Bridge Street, which led right to the greater London Bridge that spanned the Thames.

  It was bustling with people.

  “Hold tightly to me, my lady,” he said. “We enter the den of pickpockets and thieves. If they see you with me, they will be less likely to try anything unsavory.”

  Gavriella looked at the bridge. It was lined with structures on either side of it, some of them precariously built, and it was jammed with people. So very many people. It was like looking down the throat of a mighty beast. She looked at Andreas rather nervously, but he smiled encouragingly.

  Her grip tightened.

  They began their foray onto the bridge, which was essentially just another neighborhood as far as neighborhoods went. There were people everywhere as they passed by men and women conducting trade right on the bridge. One man was selling baby chicks while still another was selling bundled herbs. People were coming out of their leaning homes to buy things from these street vendors as Gavriella watched most curiously.

  “I will admit I’ve never actually come near this bridge,” she said. “It’s almost its own little city.”

  Andreas was watching everything around him – every person, every move. He didn’t like the close quarters of the bridge. The knight in him was on high alert.

  “It is,” he said, eyeing a vagrant who was sleeping against a wall holding a big, dull knife in his hands. “All of the troubles of a city, too, I am certain.”

  Gavriella wasn’t entirely oblivious to what he meant. She’d seen trouble enough last year in Deadwater and therefore knew the meaning of trouble.

  She moved a little closer to him.

  “I’m curious,” she said, pulling her skirt away from a dirty man who wandered too close. “Is that what you see when you look at a city? Trouble? You said the same thing last night.”

  The same man Gavriella had pulled her skirt away from was still too close and Andreas reached out a massive hand, shoving the man away by the head. He was evidently drunk and toppled over quite easily.

  “I am a knight, my lady,” he said. “I’ve been taught to view the entire world from that perspective. Everything is potential trouble, everywhere. One must be vigilant.”

  Gavriella watched the drunken man roll around on his back for a moment before returning her attention to Andreas.

  “You have seen many battles, then? As a knight, I mean.”

  He nodded. “Too many to count,” he said, eyeing her. “Are you sure you do not want to know my family name and where I live?”

  She grinned, shaking her head. “There is no fun to it if you come out and tell me,” she said. “Let me continue to ask the proper questions and see if I can discover the truth for myself.”

  He fought off a smile. “Very well,” he said. “You already know what my favorite food is. What else would you know?”

  “Are you from Cumbria?”

  “Nay. Are you?”

  “Nay.”

  “Yorkshire?”

  “Nay. And you?”

  “Nay. Where was your first battle, as a knight?”

  He cocked his head thoughtfully. “As a knight? A nasty skirmish in Wales.”

  She looked at him. “Were you injured?”

  He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But I have seen friends and family injured in battle, or worse.”

  “What was the worst battle you’ve ever seen?”

  Andreas thought on that. There had been so many, some he still wasn’t ready to speak of. The battle in Wales that he had mentioned was one of them. His uncle, James de Wolfe, had been cut down and left for dead. In fact, the entire family thought the man was dead until he reappeared years later with no knowledge of his previous life. Andreas had been there on that horrible day, watching his grandfather as he’d held his uncle’s bloodied, b
eaten body and wept while Andreas and other de Wolfe knights fought to save themselves and him. It was at Llandeilo, something he tried hard to forget.

  Therefore, he still couldn’t speak on it.

  “Every battle is bad,” he said, glancing at her. “I cannot extrapolate the degree of one battle against another. Suffice it to say that I have seen many battles, all of them terrible, in my twenty years as a knight.”

  “That is a long time to see such terrible things.”

  He smiled faintly. “It is my vocation and the vocation of my father and grandfather,” he said. “There was never any question as to what I would become as an adult. I trained in some very fine houses and I have learned a great deal. I would wager to say that I am probably the smartest man in the world.”

  He said it in an exaggerated way that had Gavriella giggling. “I would believe that,” she said. “I, too, fostered in an excellent home, but my reading education came from my father.”

  “The man with the love of books?”

  She nodded. “He has a great love of literature and poetry,” she said. “I must confess that when I was younger, I would act them out. The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice is my favorite.”

  Andreas’ eyes squinted as he recalled the tale. “Where Orpheus goes into the Underworld to find her?”

  “Exactly,” she said. Then, she sighed. “Imagine having someone who loved you so much that they would go into the Underworld for you. That would be a devoted love.”

  “Indeed,” Andreas agreed. “But he lost her again when he disobeyed Hades.”

  She shook her head. “I never understood why he did that,” she said. “Hades told him not to look at her as they were departing. Why would he disobey him?”

  “Because his trust was not strong enough,” he said. “Orpheus loved Eurydice deeply, but his trust was not strong enough. That makes him unworthy of her and of their love.”

  Gavriella frowned. “But he loved Eurydice so much that he risked everything to find her. Trust has nothing to do with it.”

  “Trust has everything to do with it.”