WolfeStrike (de Wolfe Pack Generations Book 2) Page 23

  He said it for all to hear, including Barbara and Lenore. They were bent over the man, preparing to decide what they would need to help him, as Tor shut the door and left them alone with their patient.

  When he was gone, Lenore’s eyes welled with tears.

  “Did you hear that?” she sniffled. “He is going to send us away!”

  Barbara was beginning to pull off the man’s tunic, a simple tunic that bore no colors. “Help me,” she said, and Lenore rushed to lift the man’s arms. “And you should not have said what you did, you fool. You confessed everything to him when you told him that we were preserving Jane’s memory.”

  Lenore continued to sniffle. “It is true.”

  “But you do not want him to know that,” she snapped. “That is our mission in life, not his. We must preserve our sister’s memory.”

  They managed to yank the man’s tunic over his head, tossing it aside. That left a mail coat that needed to come off and they began to struggle with it.

  “All because of her,” Lenore seethed. “She had no business coming here. This is her fault.”

  She was speaking of Isalyn. Barbara was well aware. As they heaved the man into a sitting position so they could remove the coat, Barbara replied.

  “Her father came here because his son was betrothed to Isabella,” Barbara grunted as she held the man up for Lenore. “You know that. You know that Tor is attempting to smooth over the fact that he killed the man’s son. But the daughter… you saw the way Tor looked at her.”

  “She looks at him the same way!” Lenore screeched and the man fell back to the mattress as they yanked the mail coat from his arms. “She will make him forget Jane. She wants him to forget Jane, I know it!”

  Between the two of them, they tossed the mail coat to the floor. Barbara brushed back the hair that had fallen in her face and bent over the unconscious man again.

  “Mayhap that is true, but we cannot touch her,” she said. “If we do, you heard what he will do to us. I do not want to spend the rest of my life in a vault.”

  “Then we have to make her leave,” Lenore said as if that were the obvious solution. “We have to make her want to leave.”

  “Or pay someone to remove her.”

  Lenore looked at her sister in shock. “Remove her? How?”

  “Abduct her.”

  Lenore gasped. “Do you think we should?”

  Barbara shrugged. “We may not need to,” she said. “But time will tell. She is only here for a visit, after all. It is not as if she is a permanent resident, but we must keep a close watch. If it looks as if she and her father are staying too long, then mayhap we can motivate them to leave. Mayhap we can even motivate them to leave… sooner.”

  “How?”

  “I do not know,” Barbara said, but the thoughts were churning behind those dark eyes. “But it will come to me. Until then, I intend to keep a close watch on Isalyn de Featherstone.”

  Lenore agreed. “And what about Isabella? What about her?”

  Barbara shrugged. “She is no longer to be trusted,” she said. “But we cannot seek any vengeance against her, as much as I would like to. She is a de Wolfe and if something happens to her, the entire clan will come down around us. We would provoke their wrath.”

  Lenore understood. “I like Bella a great deal, but she should not have spoken out against us.”

  Barbara lifted her eyebrows. “It is clear she has been watching us. I should have been more aware that she would have seen the signs. But for now… we do nothing. We cannot.”

  With Tor’s threat hanging over their heads, their hands were tied. They were conniving but they weren’t stupid.

  They didn’t want to end up in the vault.

  Lenore sighed heavily. “Very well,” she said, reluctantly pushing that subject aside. “Now, for this man – what would you have me do?”

  Barbara turned her focus away from treacherous women and on to the unconscious man. “Come with me to the kitchens,” she said. “We will gather a few things to help him.”

  Lenore nodded, following her sister from the chamber and shutting the door softly. Only when their footsteps faded did the man on the bed open one eye to make sure that he was alone.

  Joah de Brayton was quite alone.

  And he’d gotten an earful.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  God’s Bones, he thought. Did I truly just hear all of that?

  He was still in shock.

  It had taken Joah a few days of hard riding to arrive at Blackpool Castle, and given the fact that neither he nor his horse had barely rested, it gave the perfect illusion of a man who was desperately ill. He was exhausted and sweaty, and warm beneath all of that armor, so he was the very picture of a man who needed help.

  Already, he had received a good deal of it.

  Pretending to be unconscious had its advantages. People would speak of things in front of him that they wouldn’t have had he been awake, so all he had to do was lay there and pretend to be oblivious. He’d begun that particular performance about the time he reached the first of two gatehouses of Blackpool Castle.

  At the first gatehouse, all he had to do was faint and the rest was easy. Men came out of the gatehouse to see what the trouble was and after he pretended to be incoherent, he further pretended to pass out completely. Given that it was an expected hospitality practice to tend to the health and well-being of an ill traveler, he was picked up and carried into the gatehouse and set gently on the floor inside of the guard shack.

  That was where he learned quite a bit.

  Although Joah had known the Blackpool Castle was a de Wolfe property, he hadn’t known who was in command. He was not surprised to discover that the son of the Earl of Warenton was the commander, the man called Tor. One of the same men who had been in the Hunting Party that had murdered Steffan, according to Powell.

  Joah could not have planned this better.

  Already, he was where he needed to be, in the fortress of a murderer. It was a perfect place to start, but what made it more perfect – and also a little puzzling – was the fact that Isalyn de Featherstone and her father were evidently here as well and, according to the two women, Isalyn was betrothed to Tor, or sweet on him, or something that those two women disapproved of.

  But there was some connection there.

  Pretending to be unconscious had given him more information than he could have hoped for, but he was particularly interested in the fact that the two women had also mentioned Isabella, none other than the woman Steffan had been betrothed to.

  She was here, too.

  That told Joah that almost everyone with a connection to Steffan and the man’s death was here at Blackpool for one reason or another. He was in a nest of them. A son of the Earl of Warenton, Gilbert de Featherstone and his daughter, and Steffan’s betrothed, Isabella. So many pieces to a greater puzzle that he planned to fit together for his own particular needs. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it yet, but something those two women said stuck in his mind, even now.

  We will pay someone to remove her.

  They had been referring to Steffan’s sister, Isalyn. Their entire conversation revolved around their evident dislike of her, which made more sense when they spoke of the woman in relation to Tor de Wolfe. Tor had an eye for her, or she had an eye for him, and the two women were incensed about it. They had spoken of removing her, of even paying someone to abduct her. Fairly strong words coming from two well-bred women, but it gave Joah an idea.

  Militarily, he could not hope to hurt the House of the Wolf. He couldn’t even take on one of them in a personal challenge because everybody knew de Wolfe knights for the most elite knights in England. Not that he was any slouch, but challenging a de Wolfe knight would be suicide.

  Nay, he had to be far more clever than that.

  He had come here to seek revenge for something they took from him. They took Steffan from him, the only man he had ever loved. Given that they had taken something from him, it would stand t
o reason that the best way to seek vengeance against them would be to take something from them.

  The dynamic between Tor de Wolfe and Isalyn de Featherstone had his focus.

  If those two women really wanted someone to abduct her, then perhaps they did not have to look any further than the man they were about to help. It was true that Lady Isalyn was his beloved’s sister, but Steffan had never spoken fondly of her or of his father, so there did not seem to be any love lost between them. In fact, Joah couldn’t remember Steffan ever speaking kindly of his sister.

  Therefore, Joah had no sense of hesitation when it came to an abduction.

  Perhaps this was the best way to avenge Steffan, not only against the House of de Wolfe, but against the family who never really cared for him.

  That’s what Joah was.

  An avenging angel.

  And the time for retribution had come.

  “You have agreed?”

  Gilbert had to sit down. He was feeling lightheaded. He’d just been informed that Isalyn had agreed to the betrothal between her and Tor de Wolfe, and Gilbert was having trouble breathing. As he sat heavily, he could hear his daughter snort.

  “Father, this is what you wanted, is it not?” she asked, amused. “Why are you taking it so hard?”

  They were in the chamber Isalyn was sharing with Isabella. Tor had just returned from the task Isabella had summoned him for and he had then sent Isabella to find Gilbert, but the man had only been lingering in another chamber nearby. He’d never left the building, fearful of his daughter’s behavior. In case she decided to attack Tor in a betrothal-induced rage, Gilbert wanted to be there to stop it.

  Now, Gilbert had entered the chamber to find Isalyn smiling, Tor smiling, and a pleasant atmosphere all around.

  He was stunned.

  “I am not taking it hard,” he said after a moment. “I am simply surprised.”

  Isalyn glanced at Tor before replying. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” she said. “I thought you would be going mad with celebration.”

  Gilbert cast her a long look. “Daughter, where you are involved, nothing is for certain,” he said. Then, he gestured at the corridor outside. “Why do you think I was in the other chamber? I was certain a fight was going to break out and, suddenly, we were going to find ourselves permanent residents of the Blackpool vault.”

  Isalyn started laughing, looking at Tor, who was also chuckling. “It is not like that at all, my lord, I assure you,” he said. “Your daughter and I have come to a fine understanding. I feel confident to say that this betrothal is sealed.”

  Gilbert stared at him as if still in disbelief. This is exactly what he’d hoped for, what he’d planned for, and now it was happening. His daughter was going to marry Tor de Wolfe. As the realization sank in, he broke down into a grin.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “She did agree, didn’t she? Now all we need is the wedding and a feast to end all feasts. It shall be the greatest feast the north has ever seen and we shall have it in Carlisle, at my manse of Etterby House. Men will speak of this feast for years to come!”

  He was becoming terribly excited for a man who, moments earlier, barely registered emotion.

  “As the father of the bride, that is your right, of course,” Tor said. “But as a de Wolfe groom, my family is quite large. Unless your manse can hold hundreds, then mayhap we should reconsider and have it at Castle Questing. I know my father would be grateful. When my brother and I married the first time, it was very far away and he was unable to attend. Would you give my father the privilege of hosting the feast?”

  Gilbert thought on that a moment before nodding. “Of course,” he said. “Etterby’s hall can hold about one hundred men, mayhap less, so it might be better to have it at one of your larger fortresses.”

  “It will still be a feast that men will speak of for years to come.”

  Gilbert was clearly very excited about the prospect. He stood up, rubbing his hands together with glee.

  “When shall we have this marriage?” he asked. “Have either of you discussed the time and day?”

  Tor and Isalyn looked at each other. “Nay, Father,” Isalyn said. “We have not gotten that far, to be truthful. I suppose there is no reason to wait except I am sure we would like guests to have time to travel to the feast.”

  Gilbert waved her off. “You are thinking of your aunt and friends in London,” he said. “You can get married now and have the wedding feast at a later time. It will give Warenton and me time to plan the greatest event in the north.”

  Tor could see there was no stopping Gilbert’s excitement. “I am agreeable to that if Isalyn is,” he said. “My father will want to invite every ally, you know.”

  Gilbert threw up his hands. “Let him,” he said. “I will invite everyone I can think of. I’ll invite the bloody pope. My daughter’s wedding is reason enough to celebrate because she is older than most brides and a reckless woman at times, and I never thought she would get married.”

  When he realized what he’d said in the heat of the moment, he looked at Isalyn in horror, but she started laughing. Tor burst into laughter and, soon, all of them were infected with it.

  “Have no fear,” Tor said. “We shall have the wedding before the week is out, but I must inform my father so that my immediate family can attend. He would never forgive me if I did not.”

  “Where will we be married?” Isalyn asked.

  Tor looked at her, hardly believing he was discussing this very subject with such joy. After Jane, he never imagined he’d look at a remarriage with anything other than duty and sorrow, but now… now, that wasn’t the case. He was as elated as he could possibly be. Looking at Isalyn’s lovely face, he was more excited about something than he had been in a very long time.

  Perhaps even ever.

  “We can summon a priest from Kelso Abbey,” he said. “My grandparents were patrons. We can marry in the great hall and have a family feast afterwards. Is that acceptable?”

  Isalyn nodded, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen on her before. It was like… hope.

  It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “Most acceptable, Tor,” she said quietly. “It will give me time to retrieve my good dress. I left it behind at Featherstone.”

  “I should like to buy you your wedding dress, if I may.”

  It was a sweet offer, but she looked at him curiously. “Why? I have a perfectly serviceable one back at Featherstone.”

  Tor was hesitant to say anything more in front of Gilbert because he was about to say something personal, meant only for Isalyn’s ears. Truth be told, he was something of a romantic at heart and he’d been very romantic with Jane those years ago – bringing her flowers, a tame bird in a cage, buying her little things, engaging in little gestures that made her happy. Much like his ability to feel emotion again, he thought his romantic soul had died out long ago.

  But it was pulsing with life again.

  He threw caution to the wind.

  “Because I want you to wear something I have given you as a token of my happiness for our marriage,” he said. “It will be a dress that you will look at in the years to come and know that the first time you wore it was when we were married. It will mean something to us both. Mayhap I am not explaining it well enough, but that is why I would like to purchase your dress – because it will be new and beautiful, like our marriage. And I would also like to purchase a wedding ring for you.”

  Isalyn smiled faintly. “I would be happy to wear a dress you gave me for our wedding,” she said. “Truly, Tor, I would be honored. It is very thoughtful of you.”

  “You need not buy her anything,” Gilbert said, spoiling the sweet moment. “My stall is in Carlisle. We shall go there and you can pick anything you wish, and it will not cost you a pence. I have several dresses for sale, made by seamstresses to sell to women who like to do the final sewing on them. They are very popular because most of the work is already done. They j
ust need to be finished to the size of the woman who wears them.”

  Tor looked at him. “Let me be plain,” he said. “Whatever I select, I shall pay for. To take it from you without cost defeats the purpose. I must buy it.”

  Gilbert didn’t really understand the need, but he didn’t argue with him. “As you wish.”

  “Do you have rings also?”

  “Many.”

  That made up Tor’s mind. “Then it is decided,” he said. “We shall go on the morrow.”

  Gilbert was so happy that he was nearly bursting with it. “Excellent,” he said. “Let us celebrate with some of your good wine. We must send word to your father immediately. I am to be related to the House of de Wolfe!”

  He was already through the door, rattling off all of the missives he needed to send. Tor grinned at the man, who was quite literally skipping from the building, before turning to Isalyn. She was laughing at her father, hand over her mouth.

  “You would think he was marrying into the family,” she said. “I swear to you that I have never seen him so excited.”

  Tor snorted. “Wait until you see my father,” he said. “He may give your father competition for who can be the happiest about this marriage.”

  “I am looking forward to it.”

  Tor’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before taking a few steps and ending up standing next to her. Reaching out, he took her hand, a touch that sent bolts of excitement through his body. It was quite amazing to him because he never truly thought he would feel like this ever again. Life, once again, was thrilling and for the first time in a very long while, he was looking forward to the future.

  He felt as if he were awakening from a very long and very dark slumber.

  “As am I,” he said, his voice low and hoarse as he lifted her hand and kissed it sweetly. “I am looking forward to all of it. This day has turned out to be quite remarkable. When I awoke this morning, I did not imagine I would have a bride by nightfall.”