Lord, did you send those reivers to free me from Coldingham to discover what I have been missing? Is this truly what life should be like?
She wondered.
“In case you did not realize it, that is my baby sister, Penelope,” Patrick said, coming up beside her. “My mother will be stern for an hour or two and then my father will take over and ruin everything she has done. Penelope is his angel.”
Brighton grinned. “S-she is terribly cute,” she said. “She seems to want her sword back very badly.”
“She willna get it,” Jemma said sternly. “I should burn the thing.”
Patrick shook his head. “If you do, Father will just have another one made for her,” he told his aunt. “Let her have it. She will soon grow weary of it.”
Jemma wasn’t so sure. “She’s attached tae it as yer father is attached tae his,” she said with disapproval. “The lass has too much William de Wolfe in her.”
“She is his daughter.”
Jemma pursed her lips irritably at her mountainous nephew with the smart-aleck replies. “Go about yer business,” she said, swishing her hands at him. “I will take Lady Brighton inside and find Moira and Rosie.” She turned to Brighton. “Would ye like some other lasses tae talk tae?”
Brighton wasn’t sure what to say to that. More new people? Did the parade of Patrick’s relatives never end? She simply forced a smile and allowed Jemma to pull her through the inner ward, towards the buildings that housed the great hall and the family apartments, following the weeping Penelope and Jordan as they went.
Patrick simply stood there and stared, his gaze on Brighton’s backside again, watching her until he could watch no more. In fact, when she disappeared into the building that housed the great hall, he was forced to look away only to realize that his father was standing next to him, studying him closely. Realizing he’d been caught staring at a woman, Patrick smiled weakly and tried to cover it up.
“Let us go inside and speak, Da,” he said, grasping his father by the arm. “Much has happened since I rescued Lady Brighton from the reivers. You are going to want to hear this because I very much require your counsel on it.”
William wasn’t stupid. He knew that Patrick was trying to distract him from what he’d witnessed, which was his powerful, invincible son seemingly besotted with a woman. He could tell simply by the expression on Patrick’s face. William had always hoped for a great marriage for his greatest son, but he wanted a marriage as befitting Patrick’s destiny in life. The man needed a fine wife from a fine house, a marriage that would make his son wealthy and even more prestigious.
But the way Patrick had been looking at that woman he’d saved from the reivers… aye, William knew that look. He’d seen it before on other men but never on Patrick. It was the look of attraction. The look of surrender. Although William didn’t know anything about Lady Brighton, he was fairly certain she wasn’t the impressive marriage he was looking for when it came to Patrick.
Whatever was going on, he wanted to know about it.
And then he wanted to end it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Later that evening
“What is so important that you’d trek halfway across Northumberland with women and children, Atty?” William asked his son quietly. “What has happened? And who is this young woman you have brought with you?”
They were standing in his father’s solar. Patrick had always loved the smell of the dark, cluttered chamber. Something between leather and steel. Still, it was difficult to describe but as a child, he’d always derived a great deal of comfort from the scent. To this day, the smell of leather reminded him of his father.
It was the smell of power.
The question William asked hung in the air, expectantly. There were others in the solar as well – Kieran, Alec, Hector, Kevin and Apollo. Thomas and Nathaniel and Adonis had not been invited because they were really little more than children themselves and William didn’t want young men involved who hadn’t yet learned to keep their mouths shut. He wasn’t sure what troubles Patrick had brought with him and Patrick was well aware of his father’s wariness; he could see it in the man’s face.
And he was certain the man was in for a shock.
“Something quite unexpected has happened,” he finally said, reaching for a pewter pitcher of wine he’d seen a servant bring in. He poured himself a cup. “As I told you, we received word two days ago that reivers had raided an English settlement along the border. At least, that was our initial information, but when we caught up to the raiding party, they had two women with them from Coldingham Priory. One was a nun and the other was Lady Brighton.”
“I am listening,” William said steadily.
Patrick took a long drink before turning to his father. “I managed to wrest Lady Brighton from the raiders. While she was in the company of Kevin and Apollo, I went in search of the second woman I was told was somewhere among the raiders. I found the old nun dying on the road but before she passed on, she told me a very interesting story about Lady Brighton.”
“And what was that?”
Patrick fixed his father in his one good eye. “She told me that I must protect the lady with my life and when I asked why, she told me that the lady was the daughter of King Magnus of the Northmen and a Scottish mother of Clan Haye. Evidently, the lady had no idea of her true identity but I was told that the lady’s mother was sent as a hostage to the Northmen and ended up with child by Magnus. She was sent home in shame and when the child was born, it was given over to the nuns at Coldingham under an assumed name.”
By this time, William was sitting back in his chair, his hands folded in front of his mouth as he listened to his son’s story. “The daughter of Magnus the Law-Mender?” he repeated, awe in his tone. “A bastard Norse princess?”
Patrick nodded confidently. “The nun swore to it,” he said. “She also swore than it was a secret known only to her. When I informed the lady of what the old nun had told me, she clearly knew nothing about it. In fact, she was quite hysterical over the information. The old nun also told me that if anyone knew of Lady Brighton’s true identity that it would bring war and strife such as we have never seen. But here is where it becomes interesting, Da; the reivers were from Clan Swinton and they had gone to Coldingham specifically asking for Brighton de Favereux. They knew she was there. That begs the question – how did they know? If it was such a secret, who told them? I ask that you send a missive with a messenger to Coldingham asking the prioress what she knows. And as far as going to Coldingham specifically for the lady, I can only guess at the purpose– mayhap to ransom her back to Clan Haye, or to enemies of Clan Haye, or mayhap even ransom her back to Magnus. Had I known the turn the night was to take, I would have taken captives, but I did not. We left no man living so there is no one to interrogate and discover their purpose.”
A heavy silence hung in the air as he finished his explanation, looking to his father for the man’s reaction. He was positive his father would understand the situation and agree with him. But William remained much as he had since entering the room; seated in his chair, his hands folded in front of his lips, he appeared thoughtful. After several long moments, he drew in a deep and pensive breath.
“A Norse princess,” he muttered. “A woman who knew nothing about her identity and was raised at Coldingham as a pledge, I am assuming.”
Patrick nodded. “She calls herself a postulate.”
“And you are certain that she knew absolutely nothing?”
“Aye.”
William scratched his head. “I suppose I fail to see why you have brought her here,” he said. “She is not our concern, lad. She is a pledge of Coldingham and we have no right to hold her in any capacity.”
That wasn’t the answer Patrick was looking for. Frankly, he was shocked. His brow furrowed.
“I swore to a dying nun that I would protect her,” he said. “Da, if Clan Swinton is looking for her to ransom her and I return her to Coldingham, then they may once aga
in raid the priory and abduct her. If I have sworn to protect her, then I cannot return her there.”
William looked at him. “So this is a matter of honor? Because you swore you would protect her?”
“Of course it is. What else would it be?”
William cocked an eyebrow. “That is what I am attempting to discover,” he said. He looked at his son, knowingly. “I understand you swore an oath to protect the girl, but that does not mean you should be burdened with her. Protecting her can mean many different things. In this case, I believe taking her to one of the big abbeys along the border would suffice in fulfilling your vow. Take her to Kelso or Jedburgh – if you are truly worried about her safety, she will be safe there.”
Patrick was genuinely stumped at his father’s lack of compassion in the case. He couldn’t believe the man didn’t understand his point of view. “How do you know?” he asked. “If the Swinton Clan breached Coldingham, there would be nothing to stop them from breaching Kelso or Jedburgh.”
“And nothing to stop them from attacking Questing if they know she is here,” William pointed out, his manner growing more forceful. “Patrick, you have brought a woman who is not your responsibility to my home. Clan Swinton notwithstanding, my biggest concern is that we will incur the wrath of the church by keeping her here against her will. Does she even want to be here? Did she ask you to bring her here to protect her?”
Patrick felt as if he’d been slapped. He stared at his father, feeling confused and disappointed and foolish. He was going to feel even more foolish when he answered his father’s question truthfully.
“Nay,” he muttered. It was a difficult admission. “She did not ask me to protect her.”
“Then what does she want from you?”
Jaw ticking, Patrick looked away. “She wants me to return her to Coldingham.”
William sighed heavily and stood up. “Then take her back,” he said. “You have no right to hold her here. Your oath to the old woman was to protect her and you have done that. You saved her from the reivers and she is safe. Now, you will return the woman to her home where she belongs.”
Patrick felt like an idiot. “But what about the fact that she is the daughter of Magnus?” he asked. “The Swinton already knows that. What if, by not protecting her, we are inviting the wrath of the Northmen to come down on the borders as they seek their lost princess. By keeping her safe and away from the clans who wish to use her, we keep peace for us all.”
William could see that he was grasping at straws at this point; it was a weak argument he was giving. He put a big hand on Patrick’s shoulder.
“I understand you feel strongly about your vow to protect the woman,” he said. “But you have done your duty. And anything between the clans and the Northmen is not our fight. I will not get involved in it and neither will you. You have a noble and altruistic spirit, Patrick, but you must think logically about this. And I fear you are not.”
Patrick tried not to appear hurt by his father’s words. “I am thinking as I thought you would think,” he said. “I always believed my father to be compassionate in matters such as this. Was I wrong?”
“You were not wrong. But I will not risk my family or my empire for the sake of something we do not need to be involved in. You are not that woman’s last line of hope, Patrick. Let the church protect her. That is where she belongs.”
Patrick couldn’t even respond after that. He sank back against the windowsill, crossing his arms and hanging his head. He didn’t have anything more to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see men leaving the solar, whispering among themselves and he knew it was about him. He’d made a fool of himself. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t agree with his father in the least.
But doubt began to creep upon him. Was his father right? Was he not thinking logically about the situation? At least his father hadn’t said what he was probably thinking – that Patrick had been swayed by a pretty face. At least his father had saved him that embarrassment, but the message was clear nonetheless.
The great Patrick de Wolfe had allowed a woman to get the better of him.
As Patrick stood next to the window and stewed in a situation of his own making, he felt a big hand on his shoulder.
“Do not let your father’s words upset you so,” Kieran said. He’d lingered back behind the others, waiting until everyone left the solar before returning. Big, gentle, wise Kieran adored his nephew a great deal. “William is trying to think of everyone, not simply one small lady. He fears what will happen if the Swinton Clan and their allies discover where the lady is. Your father has his family to protect and fighting another man’s war is not something he relishes.”
Patrick snorted softly. “I did not expect his condemnation,” he said. “Had he been in my position, he would have done exactly the same thing. Now I see that coming to him for support was wrong.”
Kieran shifted so that he was standing opposite Patrick and able to look him in the face. “Was it his counsel you sought?” he asked, watching Patrick nod. “He gave it to you. It simply was not what you wished to hear. That does not equate to a lack of support. If you want my opinion, it is reasonable.”
Patrick looked over at the man he’d grown up idolizing. Kieran Hage, almost as much as his father, was a legend upon the borders. Patrick realized the man was right. His father had, indeed, given his counsel and it was sound.
Sighing heavily, Patrick turned his attention to the gentle night outside of the window. The sun had set and the torches were lit on the battlements of Questing, guarding the inhabitants against the night. There was peace in that vision but Patrick couldn’t feel much of it over his own distress.
“I leave for London in a fortnight,” he muttered. “I am to assume a new post and a new title. My life is spread out before me. But now….”
He shook his head, unable to find the words to continue, and Kieran’s brow furrowed. “What, Atty?” he asked quietly. “Tell me truthfully – does this woman mean something to you? How can she possibly mean something to you when you have only known her for a few days at most?”
Patrick shook his head quickly, before Kieran could even get the words out of his mouth. “She means nothing to me,” he said firmly; perhaps too firmly. “But my oath means something. I swore to keep her from harm and that does not mean returning her to Coldingham where she will only be abducted again. If they tried once, they will try again. I could not live with myself if I knew that somehow, someway, I contributed to that poor girl’s misery.”
“Then marry her and take her with you to London.”
Patrick’s eyes widened and he pushed himself away from the window. “I will not marry her,” he said. “I am to assume the most important post in the court of Henry and that appointment does not include a wife. I do not want one; I do not need one.”
Kieran watched his nephew stomp about. Thou doth protest too much, he thought. But he didn’t voice his thoughts, not wanting to agitate Patrick further. But something told him that Patrick was in denial when it came to the lovely lady he’d caught a glimpse of in the bailey.
Denial of his attraction to her.
“I know,” he said after a moment. “It was just a suggestion. Forgive me.”
“It was a foolish suggestion.”
“Agreed. Now, will you come with me to the hall? Sup should be served soon and it has been a while since I’ve sat at a table with you and heard of your adventures at Berwick. I want to hear about this raiding party and how you circumvented them. Will you tell me of your greatness, Nighthawk?”
Patrick glared at Kieran for a moment before breaking down into a reluctant grin. It was Kieran’s way of easing his distress and he knew it. Moving to his uncle, he put a big arm around the man’s neck and began to pull him from the chamber.
“I will tell you how great I am,” he said. “And then I will drink you under the table, old man.”
“Careful who you call an old man.”
Patrick snorted. “Is i
t not true?”
“That depends on your point of view. I can still take you down if I need to.”
“I would genuinely like to see that.”
“Ply me with enough drink and I just might be stupid enough to attempt it.”
Patrick laughed all the way to the great hall.
‡
Because Alec had a horse that was turning up lame, he ended up out in the stables after the meeting in William’s solar. With the smell of hay and animals heavy in his nostrils, he wanted to check the horse before heading in to sup. But the truth was that he wanted to think about everything he’d just heard in the solar, Patrick’s explanation of the situation and William’s response.
Truth be told, it had been surprising.
He had been present when Patrick had rescued the lady captive from the reivers. He had seen the ferocity with which the Scots had fought. It had been a rather nasty battle and chaotic, and the explanation that Patrick had uncovered for the raid had ominous tidings for them all. A Norse princess with ties to the Scots…. But Alec wasn’t quite sure how he felt about any of it.
It was all rather exhausting.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Hector said, interrupting his thoughts as he wandered into the stall. “How is the horse?”
Alec was bent over the horse’s right front leg, feeling up the fetlock. “Hot,” he said, “and swollen. With all of the riding and fighting we have done over the past couple of days, I am not surprised. ’Tis quite tender.”
Hector moved around him, squatting down to get a look at the hairy leg. He touched it, gently, feeling the heat in the tendons. “Wrap it with a mustard and mint poultice,” he said. “That should help.”
“I know.”
“You will have to rest him for a week or so. You’ll have to ask Uncle William to loan you a steed to return to Berwick.”
Alec simply nodded, still focused on the leg. “It sounds as if we are to be returning soon.”
Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 38
