A Joyous de Wolfe Christmas: A de Wolfe Sons short story (de Wolfe Pack Book 6) Read online

  James’ grin returned. “That is exactly what Uncle Kieran said,” he said. Then, he hesitated a moment before continuing. “Besides… I am not entirely sure if I should tell you this, but Rosie will not be nervous.”

  He was looking at his father rather knowingly and William understood the implication immediately. William fought off a grin at his rather naughty and amorous son.

  “Whatever you do, do not tell your Uncle Kieran that,” he grunted. “She is his daughter, after all. Up until you marry her, it is still his duty to defend her honor and I am not entirely sure you would survive his wrath.”

  James’ laughter returned. “I did not tell you simply to boast, Da,” he said. “I told you that for a reason. In seven months, when Rosie gives birth to my son, I will have to ask you to intercede on my behalf with Uncle Kieran. That may be the wrath you are speaking of.”

  William’s eyes widened. “She… she is with child, lad?”

  “She is.”

  William’s jaw dropped. At first, he was genuinely shocked. But after a split-second, he threw his arms around his son and hugged the man tightly.

  “That is the greatest gift I could receive this Christmas season,” he said, releasing the grinning man. “I am genuinely thrilled, James. May I tell your mother?”

  James shook his head. “Nay, for she will tell Aunt Jemma, and Aunt Jemma will tell Kieran,” he said. “I do not wish to defend myself from him until it is absolutely necessary.”

  William understood. “It will be difficult to keep that secret, but I shall honor your wishes,” he said. But he was quite elated about it. “Mayhap you should put your horse away and we will go into the bailey and stop your future wife from exerting herself. She is carrying a de Wolfe heir, after all.”

  James grabbed hold of his father as the man turned for the bailey. “Nay, Da,” he said. “If you try to stop her from playing, she’ll know I have told you, and then I will have to defend myself from her. That is not something I wish to do on my wedding night.”

  William relented. “Very well,” he said. “I will not say a word, but I must leave you now and find Penelope. Kieran hit her in the head with a snowball and got snow in her ear. She swears she is going to die from it.”

  James simply shook his head at his overprotective father, at least when it came to Penelope. Everyone knew how the man coddled her. Therefore, James waved the man on just as Rose entered the stableyard in search of her betrothed. James was certain from the way his father hugged Rose that the woman would suspect that William knew of their little secret, but she didn’t seem suspicious. She seemed very touched by his display of affection. As William left the yard, Rose turned to James.

  “What is the matter with your father today?” she asked. “He seems very emotional.”

  James smiled at her. “Of course he is emotional,” he said. “His favorite son is marrying. Why shouldn’t he be emotional?”

  Rose laughed softly, looking very much like her mother in that action. Petite, with big breasts, Rose Elizabeth Scott Hage was a vibrant and lovely woman with dark hair, pale skin, and delicate features. She had a smile that lit up the heavens as far as James was concerned.

  “I suppose I understand,” she said. “My father is the same way. He cannot look at me and not get teary-eyed today.”

  Reaching out, James put his arms around Rose, pulling her up against him. She felt warm and soft in his arms, a contentment that filled him like nothing else. His Rose.

  “I have heard, from no one in particular, that you are throwing snowballs quite viciously,” he said.

  Rose wrapped her arms around his waist, her strong young knight. “Who is telling such lies?”

  “I said it was no one in particular.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “It was your father, wasn’t it? He told you because I hit Penelope twice, rather hard.”

  “She deserved it.”

  “She hit me in the face.”

  James chuckled. “The nasty wench! Shall I punish her for you?”

  Rose hugged him tightly, giggling. “You would have to go through your father to do that, and he would not acquiesce easily,” she said. “Nay, leave it be. I will get Penelope someday when she least expects it.”

  “Do not forget that she knows how to use a sword.”

  “So do I.”

  James laughed at the mental image. “Now, that is something I would pay money to see. That shall be great entertainment, watching you two face off.”

  “I shall win, too.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” he said, giving her a squeeze and a kiss.

  The stable boy came around yet again, leading a horse James was no longer looking at, and he motioned for the boy to return the horse to his stall. When the lad moved to take the fat, lazy horse back to its food and bedding, James took Rose by the hand and began to lead her out of the stableyard.

  “I have heard that my brothers have been sighted,” he told her. “Did you hear that, also?”

  Rose nodded, clutching his hand tightly. “I did,” she said. “Some of the younger men ran out to meet them; Kevin and Andreas, in fact.”

  She was speaking of her brother, Kevin Hage, and of Troy’s eldest teenage son, Andreas. James nodded.

  “I saw them take their horses,” he said. “I did not realize where they were going.”

  Rose squeezed his hand. “Are you nervous?”

  He looked at her, frowning. “What about?”

  She grinned that toothy grin. “Marrying me,” she said. “You cannot refuse, you know. If you do, I will tell my father that you ravaged me and forced me to bear your child.”

  His eyes flew up in mock outrage. “You wicked minx,” he said. “Would you really tell him that?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then know I am not afraid of your father. Well, not much.”

  “Shall we tell him our secret now, then?”

  James grunted. “Hell, no,” he said. “I do not want to be bruised and bleeding when we are married.”

  Rose laughed as they emerged out into the bright, snow-filled bailey. “I would not want you to be bruised and bleeding, either,” she said. Then, she sobered as she gazed up at him, great longing in her expression. “Tell me it will always be like this, James.”

  He looked at her. “Like what?”

  She shrugged, clinging to his hand. “That we will always laugh with one another,” she said. “That we will always have these feelings for one another. I will love you until I die and I never want to feel any differently.”

  He paused, gazing down into her young, sweet face. “You will never feel any differently,” he assured her softly. “Nor will I. I will love you until I die and beyond. You must remember that. You are my Rose and always will be.”

  A smile creased her lips as she smiled. James lifted her hands, kissing them tenderly, but was prevented from doing anything more when a commotion at the gatehouse caught his attention. It seemed that his brothers and cousins had, indeed, returned, bringing not one priest with them but two.

  After that, the inhabitants of Castle Questing seemed to fly into a frenzy, for a wedding was swiftly approaching now that the officiants had finally arrived.

  It would be the most wonderful Christmas ever.

  PART THREE

  THE RETURNING

  Troy de Wolfe had to dodge his eldest son when he entered the bailey; the young man was on a brand new horse he’d been given for Christmas, a young and spirited animal, and he still hadn’t figured out how to control the beast. As Troy watched, Andreas struggled with the very strong young colt until the horse reared up and pitched his son into the snow.

  Laughter rose up among the men in the bailey as Andreas picked himself up out of a soft snow drift, nothing harmed but his pride. Troy simply shook his head at his sheepish son as he drew his own steed to a halt, dismounting stiffly. His father, William, approached him.

  “I must say, I am surprised to see that you made it back so soon,” William said. �
��I can only imagine how bad the roads are with this snow.”

  Troy nodded his head wearily. In fact, he was exhausted. He leaned against his horse as he pulled off his helm.

  “Bad enough,” he said. “Fortunately, the road is mostly straight and flat, all the way to Kelso, but the snow was deep and so was the mud.”

  William could see that. The horse’s legs were muddy almost all the way to the shoulder. “Well,” he said, slapping the horse on the neck affectionately, “you have returned and that is all that matters. James and Rose are most anxious to wed.”

  Troy nodded, propping his helm on his saddle. “I know,” he said. “We brought Father Bernardo and Father Stephen with us. You know them both, Papa.”

  William looked over at the two heavily-robed priests as they were helped from the small cart they had been riding on. “I do,” he said. “I should go and greet them. And you should take the horse into the stable and warm up his legs. The beast looks like he got the worst of it.”

  Troy nodded, looking at the mudline on his horse’s legs. “Just so you know, Papa,” he said before his father could move away, “I will be heading back to Monteviot on the morrow. I do not want to be away from Rhoswyn and the baby much longer, and Patrick will be returning to Berwick tomorrow, also.”

  Troy and his wife, Rhoswyn, had their first child earlier in the year. With the heavy snows and bad weather, Troy didn’t want his wife and infant son to travel to Questing for the wedding, so he’d left them safely at his outpost of Monteviot Tower. Patrick, too, had left his wife at Berwick as she had just delivered a healthy daughter, so both men were without their wives and children. William knew what it was like for a man to be away from his family for any length of time, so he sympathized completely.

  “I know,” he said. “We shall have the mass at sunset, and you and Patrick can be on your way tomorrow, early. You will see them on the morrow, lad.”

  Troy simply nodded and turned back to his horse, and William moved towards the priests only to be intercepted by his son, Patrick. The tallest de Wolfe son, and garrison commander of Berwick Castle, greeted his father with a hand to the shoulder.

  “Why are you all wet?” Patrick asked, his handsome face curious. “You’d better not let Mother see you like that.”

  William pursed his lips wryly. “I am a little wet and, suddenly, everyone becomes a nursemaid,” he said. “I was throwing snowballs with the children. That is why I am wet, if you must know.”

  Patrick lifted his dark eyebrows at his petulant father. “As I said… you’d better not let Mother see you like that.”

  As the big son wandered off to stable his horse, William continued on to the priests that had just disembarked from their cart. He knew the men; Father Bernardo was fairly high ranking at Kelso and he was surprised to see the priest. He knew Father Stephen better, and it was Father Stephen who greeted him amiably.

  “My lord,” the short, round man said pleasantly. “It is a happy day, indeed. We are honored to be asked to officiate your son’s wedding mass.”

  William dipped his head in polite greeting. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I know the weather was terrible, but my wife and I are prepared to make a sizable donation for your services.”

  Father Bernardo spoke before Father Stephen could. “So we have been told,” he said, seeming displeased. Father Bernardo was slender and bald, and didn’t have much of a friendly manner about him. “What I do not understand is why you and your family could not come to Kelso. Why must we come to Questing?”

  William lifted his eyebrows as if the priest had asked a genuinely foolish question. “Because we have dozens of children, wives and men,” he said. “I also have guests here for the days of Christmas. It is much simpler to bring two priests to me rather than me to bring dozens of people to you in this terrible weather.”

  While Father Bernardo simply shrugged and looked away, Father Stephen was more apt to smooth over the situation. “We are honored to be here,” he said again. “Mayhap we should discuss the coming ceremony inside? It has been very cold today.”

  William nodded, sweeping his arm towards the entry to Questing’s keep. “Then let us retreat to a warm fire,” he said. “My wife would like to join us, I am sure, and I would like you to meet the couple you are to marry.”

  With that, he took the priests inside, leaving his sons and men to disband the escort. There was a palpable sense of excitement now that the priests had arrived, and the wedding they’d all been waiting for would soon be on the horizon.

  “You do not seem happy for James,” Patrick said to Troy. “In fact, you have been quite depressing the past few days. Whatever is the matter with you?”

  It was sunset against a clear winter sky and freezing conditions as Patrick and Troy stood just outside of the keep entry, dressed in their finest. They were waiting for Kevin Hage and Apollo de Norville, young knights who were serving at Questing these days, who were making sure the posts were set for the coming night. They were also waiting for the couple to be married to emerge from the keep, along with a host of guests who were inside waiting for the pair. Then they would then all walk in a group to the entry of the great hall where the mass would be said.

  The great hall of Questing, built against the outer wall, had glowing innards, light and warmth filtering out into the deepening night. Smells of the coming feast were heavy in the cold air, making everyone hungry with anticipation.

  All was as it should be with the wedding imminent, but Troy hadn’t seemed pleased with any of it and Patrick wanted to know why. He and Troy were very close, so his concern was genuine. Although he had a suspicion what it was, he still wanted to hear it from his brother.

  “Well?” Patrick said after a moment when he failed to get a response to his question. “What is wrong?”

  Troy grunted softly. He’d been avoiding giving an answer, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. He knew that Patrick already suspected what was wrong.

  “Has it been that obvious?” he finally asked.

  Patrick nodded. “To me, it has. And probably to Papa. What ails you, Troy?”

  Troy was silent for a moment. It was difficult for him to find the words. “It is the same thing that is always the matter with me when the family gathers,” he said quietly.

  “And that would be?”

  “My other half.”

  So it was out. Patrick knew that’s what his brother’s trouble was and it was a sensitive subject for them all, especially for Troy and William. To those two, the missing brother was a deeply painful reality and Patrick was careful in how he proceeded with a conversation they’d had, many times, over the past four years.

  “He was invited to the wedding,” he said quietly. “It was not as if he was excluded. He was invited.”

  “But he did not come.”

  Patrick scratched at his chin, thinking on what to say. This was something they’d discussed a good deal during Scott’s absence and Patrick honestly wasn’t sure there was anything more he could say that would be of comfort to Troy.

  “Everyone deals with grief in their own way,” he finally said. “You know that Scott’s way of dealing with it was to run from it. He has started a new life elsewhere and, according to Papa, has finally found peace. Maybe he is simply afraid to come back here to face memories he has tried so hard to forget. You cannot be angry at him for it.”

  Troy knew all of that. But it wasn’t a good excuse, at least not one he was willing to accept.

  “Why can he not face it?” he asked. “I went through it, too, you know. Did he think he was the only one to feel that kind of grief? Did he think he was alone in all of it? Of course he wasn’t. But instead of facing it, he ran like a coward.”

  “He was not a coward. He ran because that was his way of dealing with it.”

  “He ran when I needed him the very most.” Troy turned away from his brother, agitated. Talk of his twin truly aggravated him these days; the more time passed, the angrier he became.
“I used to feel sorry for him. I used to weep for him and pray he would return, but now… now, I realize he is sending us all a message. Did you ever think of that, Atty? He simply does not wish to have anything to do with us. He does not want to be a de Wolfe any longer.”

  Atty was the nickname the family called Patrick, something from his childhood. A sweet and endearing name, brother to brother. Patrick could feel Troy’s hurt.

  “I do not think that is true,” he said. “He will come back when he is ready.”

  Troy whirled to him. “Then let him come,” he said, “but I have decided something – I will not welcome him. I have decided that Scott has made a conscious choice not to be my brother any longer.”

  “That is not true.”

  “Aye, it is. If he cared, he would be here. But he is not. That, my dear brother, is a statement to us all. He would rather not have a family.”

  Patrick wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d seen Troy go from grief-stricken about the entire affair, to patient, to hopeful, and finally to resentment. The entire family had seen the progression and it was something very concerning, especially to William and Jordan. They couldn’t have one son hating another and believing the worst, but Troy was heading in that direction very quickly.

  Hatred.

  It was heartbreaking to watch.

  “You know,” Patrick said thoughtfully, “you could always go and see him. He is only in Cumbria.”

  Troy shook his head firmly. “Nay,” he said flatly. “He left me. I am not going to follow the man around like a lost puppy. If he wants to come to me, then he knows where I am. But he does not want to come. The sooner I get that through my skull, the better I’ll be. The better we’ll all be.”

  Patrick put his hand on Troy’s shoulder. “I think you need to be patient a little longer,” he said. “Clearly, Scott is not as strong as you when it comes to dealing with his grief. You must have pity for a man who would run from everything he knows, trying to find a measure of peace. You cannot hate him for it.”