Page 49

Scott, Troy, and Patrick all fought off grins to varying degrees, knowing what the Helm of Shame was.

They’d heard the stories from the old knights and, truth be told, Thomas was very lucky Kieran wasn’t present.

No one wanted the Helm of Shame. As it was, Thomas’ face was pressed into the wooden floor of the entry by virtue of Patrick’s hand on the back of his head.

He tried to say something to his father but the words were muffled, so Patrick wrapped his enormous hand in Thomas’ long, dark hair and pulled his head up by the strands.

William bent over, trying to look his boy in the eye.

“Did you say something?” he said. “I hope it was an apology. I hope it was a plea for my mercy because it is only by the grace of God that I am not going to throttle you.”

Thomas’ lips were covered with dirt from the floor. “You lied to me,” he said, spitting out the dirt. “You were not truthful when you told me that you were gathering your commanders to discuss increased border activity. You lied to me and expected me not to react.”

William shook his head. “I did not lie to you,” he said steadily. “I have never lied to you. What I told you was true; we have all gathered to discuss increased border activity with the border reivers. We have discussed it. Now it is on to other business.”

It was that other business that had Thomas so enraged. He kept trying to push himself off the floor and dislodge his brothers, but it was impossible.

“Where is the Earl of Northumbria, Edmund de Vauden?” Thomas demanded. “I will tell him to his face what I think about his little scheme!”

Anger had him at least lifting his brothers up, who were starting to laugh because Thomas’ unearthly strength was born of his fury.

The younger knights weren’t seeing any humor in it, but Scott and Troy and Patrick were having a difficult time keeping a straight face.

Yet, William met his son’s anger calmly.

“It is not Northumbria’s scheme,” he said.

“At least, not completely. Thomas, you are acting like an idiot. With all of the recklessness of your youth and your unsavory reputation in The Levant, I was never ashamed of you, but if you keep this up, I will, indeed, be ashamed of your behavior. You ran off before I could fully explain the situation to you and now I must explain it to you as Scott and Troy are squeezing the breath from you and Atty has his hands in your hair. Is this truly how you want to behave? To have your brothers restrain you so that I may speak to you on the situation?”

Thomas was so angry that he was lifting his brothers up again and again, trying to dislodge them.

Seeing this, Blayth moved from his father’s side and straddled Thomas as much as he could, sitting down on the man’s torso to force him down.

Thomas went down to stay after that; not even he could dislodge four very large men from his upper body.

As he lay there, head turned to one side, William crouched down beside his son so that he could see his face.

“Now,” William said quietly. “You will listen carefully to me because it is important. You have had your entire life to do as you please, Thomas, but it is time you fulfill your destiny as a de Wolfe, and that means a strategic marriage. You owe that to your family and to the de Wolfe legacy. Do you understand me so far?”

Thomas refused to answer. He refused to look at his father, but William knew he heard him. He continued.

“Edmund de Vauden is a major landholder in the north and the man is wildly rich,” he said.

“He is related to the royal family from generations back, a direct descendant of a bastard of Robert Curthose, son of the Duke of Normandy, and by virtue of that relationship, holds the title Earl of the ancient kingdom of Northumbria. His only child and heiress, daughter Adelaide, is in need of a husband. Allow me to explain to you what this means even though I know you are already aware– Edmund owns Kyloe Castle and Twizell Castle, plus several others. His lands go from Warenford down to Rennington, and all the way out to the sea. Kyloe Castle itself is a massive fortress that holds more men than Berwick does. It has the largest standing army outside of Alnwick in the north, but more importantly, Edmund de Vauden is the governor of Bamburgh Castle, a royal estate. You know how important that castle is. It is that castle, that army, and that empire which needs a strong hand– your strong hand, Thomas. Marry Adelaide de Vauden and you shall know an empire bigger than any estate in the north, including mine.”

Thomas was still staring off into space, refusing to answer, which perturbed William. His patience began to thin.

“I did not raise you to disrespect my will as blatantly as you are doing, so listen well,” he growled.

“I will tell your brothers to release you. If you run, it will not be back to Wark Castle. Wark belongs to me and if you disobey me, you are no longer my garrison commander. You may as well keep running because no one will take you in. You are the youngest of my sons but I have never known you to be disobedient. If you intend to start now by refusing this betrothal, then you should tell me now. I will have other arrangements to make.”

Thomas’ jaw was ticking angrily but the hazel eyes, a similar color as his mother’s, moved to William, gazing at the man steadily.

It was clear that he had something to say, but he never got the chance.

A voice from behind them, from the great mural stairs that led to the upper level of the keep, rang out against the cold stone walls.

“Thomas, get up.” Jordan de Wolfe was viewing the mass of men and grossly displeased about it. “Atty, Scott, Troy, Blayth– get off the man. Do ye hear me? All of ye, get up.”

The heavy Scottish accent of Jordan was not to be trifled with.

The mother of the enormous men wrestling on the floor, and more besides, she was a strong, ageless beauty, a tribute to her family and to womanhood as a whole.

They didn’t come any finer, stronger, intelligent, or beautiful than William’s wife of over fifty years.

More than any battle commander, her voice made men move.

Blayth was the first one to stand up, pulling Patrick up with him.

Patrick pulled on Scott as Troy leapt to his feet, hissing at Markus and Andreas and Will.

Those three got up, yanking Edward and Axel to their feet as Thomas, at the bottom of the pile, bolted to his feet, turning to look at his mother as she began to come down the stairs.

Jordan had a little girl with her, an eight-year-old child, one that she had not given birth to, but one she had raised since birth.

The child looked like a porcelain doll, with curly dark hair and big, dark eyes, and the moment Jordan and the child came to the base of the stairs, the little girl yanked her hand from Jordan’s grasp and ran to Thomas, who picked the child up and cradled her.

It was like throwing water on a fire.

It had been a strategic move on Jordan’s part. Thomas could not become too angry with little Caria around, a child named after the Welsh word for heart . Though Thomas was not the father, Caria de Wolfe belonged to him.

She was his heart.

“Intae the solar,” Jordan said quietly, pointing to the door and turning her son for it. “Go in and sit. Caria has been askin’ for ye, so take her with ye.”

What ten men couldn’t accomplish, one small woman and a little girl could.

As the men backed off, Thomas silently moved into the solar, followed by his father and mother.

Slowly, Scott and Troy and Patrick and Blayth trickled in after them, allowing Will and Andreas and Markus in, but shutting the door in the face of Edward and Axel, who were visibly upset by the fact that they were not included in the group.

As the boys ran off to complain to their father, who was out in the stable guarding against Thomas stealing away on his horse, those settling into the solar under much calmer conditions were now left to deal with the crux of the situation.

This was what it all boiled down to…

An unwanted betrothal.

“Thomas, I realize a marriage between you and Lady Adelaide is unwanted, but I would not do it if I did not believe this was in your best interests,” William said.

Jordan came to him and he put his arm around her slender shoulders, presenting a unified front against their resistant son.

“Your mother and I have kept silent on any matrimony where you were concerned for eight years, ever since…”

Thomas put up a hand, stopping his father from continuing.

“I know,” he said. The fight was out of him now as the reality of the situation settled, but it was also because of the child on his lap.

He looked at Caria as the little girl affectionately tugged on his shoulder-length hair.

“You do not have to say it. You have not mentioned any betrothals to me since we brought Caria back from Wales, and you have let me lead the life I have needed to lead. I have appreciated it.”

Now, they were at the heart of the situation, the real reason Thomas had been kept clear of any betrothals for the past eight years. William watched the interaction between his youngest son and the little girl, the child of a young woman Thomas had loved.

The woman he’d fallen in love with in Wales had been a woman he’d lost.

She had been a Welsh princess, the sister of the husband of Penelope de Wolfe, Thomas’ youngest sister.

Penelope had married the hereditary king of Anglesey and when Thomas had ridden escort to her wedding, he had met Bhrodi de Shera’s very young sister, Tacey, who was pregnant and recently widowed.

The young knight with the soft heart had fallen hard.