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The rapid response in a doubtful tone caused Adelaide’s eyes to widen. It was clear that Lady de Wolfe, the matriarch of a very powerful family, was displeased, and even Adelaide wasn’t stupid enough to provoke her.

“I did not mean anything by it, Lady de Wolfe, truly,” she said, looking over to Maitland. “If… if I offended, I did not mean to.”

Maitland nodded, but next to her, Desmond was holding back guffaws. Only Lady de Wolfe could put Adelaide in her proper place enough for the woman to stay there. But Maitland, still trying to be polite, spoke.

“I am sure you have a beautiful wardrobe and your offer is very kind,” she said. “But for my life of piety and service, this is the best I am allowed. I am sure you understand.”

Adelaide simply turned back to her food, fearful to say anything more lest she provoke the wrath of Lady de Wolfe. As she began to eat her bread and butter, Thomas returned to the table and resumed his seat.

“Caria found a litter of puppies over near the hearth,” he told his mother. “She is very happy right now.”

Jordan turned to the hearth, straining to catch a glimpse of Caria, laying on the warm stones and letting the puppies lick all over her. She grinned.

“Ye shouldna have done that,” she said. “The lass will want tae take them all home with her.”

Thomas grinned, reaching for his cup of wine and catching a glimpse of Maitland’s trencher. It was nearly empty and he pointed to it.

“Are you satisfied, my lady?” he asked. “I can have more food brought forth if you are still hungry.”

Maitland shook her head. “I have had my fill, thank you,” she said. “It was delicious. Your cook is to be commended.”

He grinned, taking the half-empty pitcher as he filled her cup. “The cook is an old man who is twice my size, but he knows well how to cook for an army,” he said. “He served with my father back in the days when William de Wolfe would lead his armies.”

Maitland’s attention drifted over to the handsome elderly knight, deep in conversation with Adelaide’s father. “He does not fight any longer?”

Thomas shook his head. “He is still capable for the most part, but my mother will not allow it. She says he has done his service for king and country and if he tries to go out with the army again, she’ll break both of his legs.”

Maitland laughed softly but before she could reply, Adelaide spoke.

“When I am chatelaine of Wark Castle, I shall bring a cook all the way from France,” she said.

“We will need a more refined cook, as I intend to do much entertaining as Lady de Wolfe. It would not do for the fine nobility of England to return to their homes and spread gossip that we have a soldier doing our cooking for us.”

Thomas heard her voice, grating on his nerves. He was certain she had said that to remind him of what her place would soon be and it only served to infuriate him.

“I am quite happy with my cook,” he said. “I have no intention of changing.”

Adelaide huffed sharply. “I was only suggesting…”

He cut her off. “I know what you were suggesting.”

He glared at her, daring her to argue with him, but it occurred to him that it would be poor behavior to display in front of Maitland.

Poor behavior on his part, at any rate. He had a temper, and especially with Adelaide, and for some reason, he didn’t want Maitland to think he treated all women so shabbily.

He didn’t want her to think ill of him.

Since when did he care what others thought of him?

Taking a deep breath, Thomas calmed his building annoyance at Adelaide and struggled to be civil.

“I simply meant we can discuss it at another time,” he said evenly before returning his attention to Maitland. “Tonight, I simply wish to feast and enjoy the evening. I noticed there was a brilliant moon out tonight. The land looks as if it is bathed in silver.”

As Thomas tried to pretend that there was no issue with Lady Adelaide, Maitland was starting to see that there was more to that relationship than met the eye. Maitland was very intuitive and what she first thought was merely a guest at Wark Castle was clearly much more than that.

When I am chatelaine of Wark Castle .

That told Maitland that Lady Adelaide was something more, indeed, and the truth was that the realization caused Maitland great disappointment.

It shouldn’t; she knew it shouldn’t. Thomas was a de Wolfe and commander of his own outpost, and that made him a man most worthy of the best bride.

Lady Adelaide seemed to be that bride, but it was clear that Thomas had no love for the woman.

Neither did Desmond. If anything, there was a good deal of animosity there and Maitland could see why.

The woman, though lovely in a pale sort of way, was as friendly as a shrew.

But, God… the foolish, giddy woman in Maitland wished that Thomas was not attached.

It wasn’t as if she could have him, but still …

“’Tis as bright as the sun,” Maitland said after a moment, trying to sound pleasant when the truth was that her protected heart was filled with disappointment. “I enjoy nights such as this when the weather is good. There is something soothing about them. They bring about an easy sleep.”

Before Thomas could reply, somewhere on the other side of the hall, a soldier with a lute struck up a tune.

It was a lively melody and men began clapping as a few drunken soldiers stood up to clumsily dance around.

Seeing this, Jordan suddenly stood up from the table and headed over to the hearth where Caria was buried in puppies.

Drunken dancing men were too close to the child, even though they were several feet away, so she moved Caria away from men who might step on her and not even see her.

Thomas watched his mother collect the little girl, and two of the puppies, but his attention was drawn to the music.

It wasn’t unusual to hear music in the hall of Wark.

In fact, Thomas had a beautiful baritone singing voice and he liked to sing quite often, but since the arrival of Adelaide, he hadn’t really sung at all.

He hadn’t felt like it. Singing, to him, was joyful, and he hadn’t felt joyful since Adelaide had joined his household.

But looking at Maitland, the urge to sing again struck him.

“Do you know that tune, my lady?” he asked, holding up a finger as he caught the tune and hummed a few notes. “’Tis an old song, usually sung by soldiers after a victory.”

Maitland turned her head in the direction of the playing, catching a glimpse of the man with the lute and soldiers as they danced about. She shook her head.

“I do not know if I have heard it,” she said. “My father was not much of a warrior and even when I fostered at Alnwick, I was kept away from the men. All of Lady de Vesci’s wards were.”

More men were starting to sing the song now as the man with the lute played on. It was a low hum of words but soon grew in volume as the drunkards began to join in. Quickly, nearly half the hall was singing, and as Maitland tried to make out the words, she heard Thomas’ deep voice in her ear.

We came to battle, for to see,

An enemy tide a’wait for me.

A song of bravery filled my soul,

I held my sword, I rushed to and fro.

The end of the battle, and still I stood,

Friends and warriors, men who could

Still face the enemy, soon fell away,

And in my glory, I now shall stay.

Fight on, men of iron,

Fight ’til the day has passed.

Glory awaits you,

Your honor shall last.

Maitland had turned to watch him as he sang, a twinkle in his hazel eyes as the melody came forth in a gorgeously rich voice.

Across the table, William began to sing towards the end of the song, unable to carry much of a tune, grinning at his son across the table as fighting men joined in something that only fighting men were allowed to sing.

It was a man’s song, something that those who had faced death together understood.

“Astonishing,” Maitland said, clapping her hands when the song was over. “You have a remarkable singing voice, my lord.”

“He does,” Jordan agreed from across the table. “I’ve not heard Tommy sing in quite some time. Ye did my heart good, lad.”

Thomas grinned at his mother. “I’ve not had much to sing about,” he said. “I don’t just walk around, bursting into song, you know. That would look rather foolish. I have to feel the song in my heart before I can sing it.”

Jordan opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted when the doors to the hall flew open, slamming back on their hinges.

A burst of cold wind blew in, snuffing out half of the tapers that were lit near the tables, and smoke billowed out from the hearth.

Thomas looked to the door with annoyance, only to see several soldiers rushing in.

A couple of them were heading straight for him.

“My lord,” one of the men shouted as he came near. “Trouble across the river. Coldstream is being raided.”

Thomas, as well as William, moved to his feet. “How do you know?” Thomas demanded. “Is there a messenger?”

The village of Coldstream, a rather large burgh, was to the northeast just across the River Tweed.

In fact, Wark Castle protected a bridge crossing over the river, one of the main crossings between Kelso and Berwick, so it was an important access point.

The soldier, breathless from having run all the way from the gatehouse, spoke quickly.

“We don’t need a messenger, my lord,” he said.

“The moon is so bright it might as well be day. We could see the torches coming from the north and entering the village, but we held station until we began to see people running for the bridge. Our sentries on the bridge returned to tell us that the Scots are in the village. ’Tis a night raid, my lord. ”

“How many?”

“I’d say a hundred, at the very least. The village is crawling with Scots.”