“Perfect!” Katheryn threw up her hands in glee. “If you will see to the kitchens, I will tend to the management of the great hall and Evie can manage the servants and the rooms in the keep to ensure everything is properly kept. It will be so much easier this way.”
Brighton agreed wholeheartedly. “T-that is a wonderful idea,” she said. “S-shall we settle the children and unpack our belongings first? Then, I would love to see to the kitchens.”
The ladies were in complete agreement and as Brighton followed the women up the stairs to the family chambers, helping Evelyn to put her daughters to bed, she was coming to think that, already, she was happy here. She loved Patrick’s sisters and she loved their children. She was as content and happy as she could possibly be at the moment. The question of Coldingham was still heavy in the air, but that would be dealt with. There was no use worrying over it until Patrick and his father met with success… or not.
She hoped it wasn’t the latter.
Still, her new life seemed surreal in spite of everything. Leaving Katheryn and Evelyn with the children, she headed back down to the entry level with the intention of seeking out her trunks. They had come back with them on a provisions wagon, the same wagon some of the children had ridden in on their journey to Castle Questing, but on the trip back to Berwick it was full of trucks and other things. Stepping outside onto the top of the steps that led down into the bailey, she shielded her eyes from the sun as she surveyed the area. She could see that most of the men had been disbanded and trunks and satchels were being brought into the keep by servants.
Brighton could see her painted trunks plainly and she directed the servants, when they came up the steps, to take the trunks to the chamber next to Patrick’s. That was where she had originally slept her first night at Berwick and, to be truthful, she wasn’t exactly sure how happy Patrick would be if she simply moved into his chamber without him having time to move his own things around to give her space. She was the man’s wife now but she didn’t want to presume anything. Better let him tell her what he wanted before she acted.
Retreating into her chamber once her possessions were dropped off, Brighton busied herself by opening up her trunks and removing the clothing. All of it had been carefully rolled up, so as not to wrinkle, but it was better to get them aired out and hung up on a peg. So she carefully shook out everything, laying it upon the bed and smoothing it out. It was more beautiful clothing than she had ever seen and, coupled with what Evelyn had given her, she had a wardrobe fit for a queen. Or, the wife of a prestigious knight, as it were. These were more beautiful things than she ever knew to exist.
Meant for a life she never thought to have.
Somehow, Brighton ended up on the floor going through the combs and soaps and oils that Patrick had purchased for her. So many wonderful, glorious things. A servant entered her chamber at one point with some wood for her hearth, lighting the fire as the sun began to set and bringing her two fat tapers to give light to the chamber.
She truly had no idea how long she had been on the floor, inspecting combs and scarves and other things. The sun continued to set and the land outside grew dark. Soon enough, she heard Patrick’s voice as he came up the stairs. He was speaking to someone and, as Brighton rose to her feet and went to her open chamber door, she could see that Evelyn had met Patrick and their father at the top of the stairs. Evelyn was now showing William where he was to sleep for the night.
William was soon surrounded by several of his grandsons who wanted to help him with his saddlebags. One wanted to carry his sword. Brighton smiled, watching as William was very patient with his demanding little grandsons. William and the gaggle of boys followed Evelyn down the corridor to his borrowed chamber as Patrick headed in Brighton’s direction. Her smile broadened when their eyes met.
“Your father has many helpers,” she commented.
Patrick gave her half-grin. “Ah, yes,” he said. “They all want very much to squire for him, although they are so young I do not know if they really know what that means.”
Brighton laughed softly. “I will squire for you if you will let me,” she said. “I have already unpacked my bags. I would be more than happy to help you unpack yours.”
Patrick’s grin broadened as he went to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her gently on the lips. “That is most kind, wife,” he murmured. “I have missed you today. I hardly had any time to see you or speak with you.”
Brighton wrapped her arms around his neck. “I could see you most of the day through the window of the carriage,” she said. “But, alas, even in the carriage with your lovely sisters, I was still lonely for you.”
It was a sweet thing to say, warming his heart, and Patrick kissed her again, feeling a spark ignite in his belly, a spark he was coming to equate with his feelings for Brighton. He’d felt that spark most strongly the night he bedded her and also last night when he had bedded her again. It was a very lustful spark and one he was more than happy to answer the call for, but the moment he bent over to kiss her more lustily, he caught sight of her open trunks in the chamber next to his and everything came to a halt.
“What are your trunks doing in there?” he nearly demanded. “You do not think to sleep in there, do you?”
Brighton shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “But I did not want to move my things into your chamber until you told me to. That would have been quite bold of me.”
He scowled at her. “Bold?” he repeated, aghast. “You are my wife. You will sleep where I sleep. Start taking your things into my chamber immediately, you silly wench.”
It sounded very much like a command and Brighton quickly turned for the chamber, yelping when Patrick swatted her on the behind with a trencher-sized hand as if to punish her for being so foolish. She giggled, and he grinned, as she went to collect her things.
Seeing that she was doing as he had commanded, Patrick went into his big, cluttered chamber and began removing his mail. As he hung his mail coat on a frame near the door, he began to look around the chamber and think that, perhaps, this didn’t look much like an inviting chamber for a woman. It was dusty and had clutter in the corners. When Brighton scurried in with an armful of her new garments, he held out a hand.
“Wait,” he said. “You may want to clean this room to your liking before you move your possessions in here. I do not spend much time here and the servants are not allowed to come in when I am not here, so it is a rather dirty room. You may wish to clean it up first.”
Brighton looked around the chamber. It was very big, with an enormous bed and a huge wardrobe among other pieces of furniture, but it was also very dusty. There were no oil cloths covering the windows and no curtains around the bed. In all, it was a spartan chamber meant for a man. She turned to him.
“I will not clean it up if you do not want me to,” she said. “If you are comfortable here, I see no reason to disturb it on my account.”
He smiled faintly, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her on the forehead. “There is every reason to disturb it on your account,” he said. “A man-pig lives here. Feel free to do anything you wish to the chamber to make it more comfortable for us both. I give you permission.”
Brighton turned to the room again, thinking that it did, indeed, need some sweeping and cleaning. Oddly enough, she was very excited at the prospect. Make it comfortable for us both.
She would.
“Tonight?” she asked.
He gave her a squeeze and let her go as he prepared to remove his padded tunic. “Tonight,” he said. “Right now if you wish. I have some business with my father now, so do your worst.”
Brighton beamed at him. “I will,” she said. “I have much to do.”
He watched her scurry back into the other chamber where her items were laid out. “I will see you at supper.”
She had her back to him as she dumped her garments back onto the bed. “Indeed, you will.”
“Bridey?”
She paused and stood up,
turning to look at him. “Aye, Atty?”
His gaze lingered on her a moment. “I am glad you are here. With me.”
Her joyful expression softened, adoration filling her features. “As am I.”
“I do love you. You know that.”
She nodded. “And I love you, my husband. More than you can ever know.”
They were words to fortify him, filling him with steel for a soul and granite for determination. Nothing on earth could crush him as long as he had her love. Hearing those words from her… he never knew anything could mean so much to him.
Leaving his happy wife cleaning up their chamber, Patrick headed back down the corridor in search of his father. All he had to do was follow the clamor of children and he soon came upon his father being set upon by five grandsons. The older boys were trying to convince him that they needed his daggers while the younger ones were simply rifling through his saddlebags, throwing things aside on the hunt for something useful or valuable. Patrick stood in the doorway and shook his head.
“You are being robbed and you do not even know it,” he said, pointing to the lads pawing through the saddlebags. “Eddie and Axel have you occupied while the younger ones steal your things.”
William grinned, turning to see Christoph, Atreus, and Hermes pulling everything they could out of his saddlebags. He, too, shook his head.
“They remind me very much of you and your brothers when you were their age,” he said. “As I recall, you stole many an item from me, not the least of which was my coin purse. Do you remember that? You were about three or four years of age. We searched for it for an entire week and only found it when your mother forced you to give it up. You had buried it in the stable beneath the feet of one of the chargers. It was very clever of you, actually.”
Patrick laughed softly. “That is still where I keep my money,” he said. “Only a madman would go into the stall of a man’s war horse. In fact, that is why I came. I am preparing to pull forth my coin. Do you want to come with me?”
William shook his head. “I had better not lest this group rob me blind while I am gone,” he said. “I will see you in the hall for sup.”
“Very well.”
Leaving his father to occupy the young boys, Patrick headed down to the stable where he had, indeed, buried his money in the ground of his war horse’s stall. The horse was the best possible sentinel. Once he reached the barn, he removed the horse from the stall with no issue before sweeping aside the hay and dung to reveal a stone laid flush against the floor of the stall.
Beneath the panel lay a locked chest containing Patrick’s coinage. He pulled the chest forth, unlocked it, and opened it. Inside, there was an entire horde of silver dinars and two leather purses full of gold crowns. He pulled forth twenty pounds in silver and one of the gold coin-filled purses just in case he needed to sweeten the deal. Although his father was already doubling his twenty pounds, still, Patrick didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
Soon, the depression of what was to come hung over him. He’d avoided it most of the day, keeping himself occupied with other things. He thought of Brighton, now up in his chamber making it a place she would be comfortable to live in, and his heart swelled with happiness. Never had anything felt so right to him. He wanted this day to be normal, a glimpse of their life to come, with feelings of security and happiness in the life they’d chosen for one another. Thieving kids and all, this was the life he wanted, the life he adored, but none of it would be worth it without Brighton by his side.
Was he frightened of what would happen at Coldingham? Of course he was. For a man who knew no fear in battle, he most definitely feared one small prioress because she had the power to rob him of everything he held dear. But quickly, his fear turned to anger; he simply wasn’t going to allow that to happen. If she wouldn’t accept his money, he had no problem slitting her throat and burning down the priory to cover his tracks.
That was how strongly he felt for Brighton. No man, or woman, was going to deny him his wants and get away with it. He armed himself with that knowledge, that understanding, and it fortified his courage, for no matter what happened with the offer of compensation, he and Brighton would remain together as husband and wife until death did they part. The Nighthawk had found his mate for life and he wasn’t going to lose her, not for anything.
Rather than going to Coldingham seeking permission, he was now going to Coldingham seeking prey.
The mother prioress’ answer would determine just how much longer she would live.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The night had seen a summer storm roll through and by morning, the sky was clear but there was a blanket of wet across the land as Patrick and William gathered in the bailey of Berwick to bid their family a farewell.
While William spoke quietly to his daughters and sons-in-law, Patrick and Brighton were off to the side on their own. Patrick held Brighton snugly, his forehead against hers, feeling angst like he’d never felt in his life. It was purely due to the separation with Brighton and had nothing to do with the objective of the coming trip. After yesterday’s decision on what he would do if the prioress did not take his money, he was at peace with that. He knew what he had to do. Now, his anxiety had to do with leaving Brighton, if even only for a few days. He couldn’t imagine that what he had to do would take any longer.
But even a few days was too long for him. He was wrought with the pain of leaving her, struggling to control it because Brighton had been verging on tears since they had awoken that morning. Lying in each other’s arms, they’d spoken of little things, trivial things, but the sorrow of the mood filled the room. If she wept, Patrick wasn’t at all sure he could even leave, so it was imperative to keep calm so Brighton would be calm.
But it was a struggle.
“Do you have everything you need?” Brighton asked, huddled against him, her hands on his woolen de Wolfe tunic. “You did not leave anything behind, did you?”
Patrick grunted unhappily. “Aye, I did,” he said. “You.”
She smiled wanly. “But I cannot go,” she said. “I have thought about this, Atty. As much as I would like to go with you to tell Mother Prioress that I am agreeable to this marriage so she will not think I have been forced into it, I am afraid that if I set foot in the walls of Coldingham, they might not let me out.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “If you think those puny nuns can hold you, then you are greatly mistaken,” he said. “I can take on a nun or two if it comes to that.”
He meant it in jest, mostly, but she turned very serious. “You must promise me that you will not move against the priory,” she said. “You cannot harm them if they do not give you the answer you seek right away.”
Because she was serious, he grew serious. “I will tell you now that I will do everything in my power to ensure I have their agreement,” he said. “Do you think for one moment I am going to leave there without a settlement in the matter? The mother prioress will give her permission or she will be very sorry.”
Brighton knew he was determined but his words still frightened her. “What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?”
She wasn’t in a mood to be teased or toyed with. She pushed out of his embrace, facing him with great concern on her features.
“Patrick, what are you going to do if Mother Prioress does not accept your money?” she asked. “I want to know.”
His gaze lingered on her, debating just how much to tell her. He’d come to his decision last night, but it was his decision alone. He didn’t want her to know anything about it or have any complicity in it. This was something he had to do, for his own sake. For their sake.
There was no remorse in his heart whatsoever.
“I will do whatever is necessary to convince her that you will never return to Coldingham, with or without her agreement on the subject,” he said after a moment. “What did you think I was going to do if she refused the money, Bridey? Take you back to her? Of course not. She will never s
ee you again. I will therefore do what is necessary in order to gain her cooperation.”
He was being vague, essentially letting her know it was none of her affair how he conducted himself. Brighton sighed heavily, thinking that it was, perhaps, for the best. Perhaps, she really didn’t want to know. Contrite that she had shown her temper to him, she fell back against him, wrapping her arms around his torso.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I did not mean to sound impudent. ’Tis simply that I am afraid of what will happen once you speak with her. She is a stubborn woman.”
Patrick wrapped his arms around her again, giving her a squeeze. “I understand,” he said. “But you must trust me in this matter. Your trust and your love mean everything to me, Bridey. You must never lose either in me.”
She shook her head, her eyes closed as she held him tightly. “I will not, I swear it.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Good lass,” he said. “Now, do you want to wish my father a farewell? He is going on your behalf, after all. It would be polite of you to thank him.”
Brighton nodded eagerly as Patrick took her by the arm and escorted her over to where William was standing with his children. As soon as William saw them approaching, his attention was diverted and he smiled faintly.
“All is well, I hope,” he said, looking between Patrick and Brighton. “Are we ready to depart?”
Patrick nodded. “We are,” he replied, “but Bridey has something she would like to say to you.”
All eyes turned to Brighton as she gazed up at William. Realizing that everyone was suddenly watching her, she was a bit hesitant but forced herself to speak.
“I-I wanted to thank you for all you have done for me, my lord,” she said. “I have not had much opportunity to speak with you but I would like to say that you have my undying gratitude. Patrick holds you in great esteem and I do, as well.”
William smiled at the woman with the nervous catch in her speech. “Thank you, Bridey,” he said, “and if you do not call me William or Papa soon, I shall be very disappointed.”
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