Page 24 of Wolfehound (De Wolfe Pack Generations #11)

Folkingham Castle

Three Months Later

T he time had come.

Never mind the time. The year, the week, the day had come, and he was over the moon about it.

Liam had been pushing a swift pace all the way from Bamburgh Castle, where his family lived.

Fortunately, the weather had been good and the roads in decent condition, so travel had been pleasant.

He had half of his family with him, father and mother included.

It made quite a brigade.

Since Liam was the eldest and the heir, his marriage to a woman he’d been betrothed to for twenty years was quite an event.

Off to Liam’s left, riding a black-and-white charger effortlessly, was the brother closest in age to him, Kyle Herringthorpe.

Kyle was a big lad with blond hair and hazel eyes, a man who adored his eldest brother.

The brother next in age, Taggart, had been left behind at Bamburgh because Liam’s father had wanted at least two of his sons left behind in command.

The Scots weren’t completely settled these days, so he wanted seasoned knights in case anything went wrong.

Tag, along with brother Brody, understood.

Liam had more brothers, six in total, but the only brothers with him were Kyle and Logan. Sisters Jane and Mary were already married and in the South of England with their husbands, while the two youngest brothers, Mac and Edmund, were fostering at Warwick Castle.

It was, therefore, mostly a family affair as the House of Herringthorpe headed toward Folkingham Castle along with about a hundred soldiers.

Bamburgh was a royal outpost and War Herringthorpe, Liam’s father, had been the garrison commander for many years.

Therefore, the troops he kept there were mostly royal troops, though he did have some of his own.

Out of a thousand-man army at Bamburgh, about a quarter of them belonged to War, personally, because the majority of his men went with Liam when he assumed the garrison at Easington Castle, northwest of Bamburgh.

Easington Castle actually belonged to War, gifted to him by the king for exemplary service, and he was quite proud of the large, squat castle that looked like a crouching lion upon the moors of the north.

When War had acquired the castle, it came with five rather anemic villages and herds of sheep.

The former lord had been ill for many years before dying, so the land was greatly in need of help.

Liam was more than willing to give it, and in the few years he’d been commander, the villages were thriving and the sheep population had nearly doubled.

As it turned out, Liam had a good head for business, but business was the last thing he was thinking about as Folkingham came into view.

He was thinking about that beautiful jewel of a woman he was about to take as his wife, something he’d been greatly anticipating for the past six years.

Six long, frustrating years. The last time they’d spoken about it was when Cambria was fourteen years of age and Carlton had hinted at only four more years, but in the end, he’d been reluctant to surrender his only child.

At six years, it was War who finally made the demand of marriage—or there would be a problem.

Reluctantly, Carlton gave consent, and within the week, Liam and his parents were heading to Folkingham.

Riding beside him, he could hear his father chuckle.

“What?” Liam looked at him. “Why are you laughing?”

Warwick Herringthorpe, who went by the name War and had all of his life, was grinning at his son. “You,” he said. “You’re like a stallion champing at the bit, eager to get to the female.”

Liam made a face. “Bloody hell, Papa,” he said. “You do not say that in front of Mama, do you?”

War snorted again, this time louder. “She says it to me,” he said. “Your mother is not na?ve, Liam. She knows why you are pushing this swift pace. So does the entire escort, your brothers included.”

Liam’s face was still puckered with displeasure as he glanced over his shoulder at the contingent of men and the small, fortified wagon that carried his mother.

“I am not eager to get to her simply to bed her,” he whispered loudly.

“You’ve only met her once, Papa. She was a girl then.

When you meet her today, you’ll see the woman she’s become. She’s magnificent.”

War grinned at his son, the adoring way he spoke of his betrothed. He didn’t quite believe him about not simply wanting to bed the woman because he’d waited so damn long, but didn’t argue with him.

“I tried to make it to Folkingham on more than one occasion,” he said. “In my defense, I was simply too busy. I know that is a weak excuse, but I will see her again today and embrace her like a daughter. For certain, any woman who has you so entranced is worthy of such attention.”

Liam’s gaze was on the castle in the distance, rising from the landscape around it as a silent testament to its power, its longevity. But all he could see was a certain young woman in those old walls.

“I met her when she was not even one year of age,” he said wistfully.

“I remember thinking that she was just a stinky baby. I had no use for her, or any baby, at that age. But she kept looking at me with these eyes that are bluer than any eyes I’ve ever seen, and I think even back then I knew she was special.

But only in the sense that I knew who she was and I respected the fact that she was the last of her line. ”

War was listening, his eyes crinkling with humor. “Her line will become our line,” he said. “Imagine my son, married to a Welsh princess.”

“We are not supposed to speak of it.”

War waved him off. “I know,” he said. “But there is no one around to hear us.”

“Do Kyle and Logan know?”

War shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “And they should not. The fewer people know about this, the better.”

Liam nodded. “Agreed,” he said. But he hesitated a moment. “Papa, what do you think would happen if the truth came out now? Do you think there would be trouble?”

War shrugged. “It is difficult to say,” he said. “What happened was twenty years ago, and time has a way of softening situations. Nothing could happen. Or the king might view it as a shocking betrayal.”

“Would he come for her?”

War’s gaze was on the castle in the distance, looming closer now.

“He could try, I suppose,” he said, not wanting to upset his son with what he really thought, which was that Edward would more than likely try to reclaim the Welsh princess who could effectively damage his rule were her identity discovered.

“But I would not worry about it. No one knows and no one will know. You will marry Lady Cambria and have a good life together.”

Liam grinned at the mere mention of her name. “We will,” he said confidently. “I’ve waited a long time for this day, Papa. I’m ready for it. And her.”

War snorted, delighted that his son, his shining star, seemed so lovestruck.

Liam had been an exceptionally serious child, focused and determined at even a young age, and there were times when War wondered if the lad had a heart.

He had mercy, and could be generous, but sometimes he lacked emotion.

Evidently, he was saving it all up for the woman he was about to marry, and that just made War laugh.

“Papa!”

Kyle and Logan had charged to the head of the escort, with Kyle pointing toward Folkingham in the distance. “May we ride ahead and announce our arrival?” he asked, struggling to control his horse. “We should be announced, you know. It is good manners.”

War waved the pair on. “Go ahead,” he said, watching the excited horses take off when the young men dug their spurs in. “Do not break a leg! Or a neck! Slow down!”

No one was listening to him. They were off in a cloud of dust, heading down the road. Liam shook his head unhappily.

“If one of them gets hurt and ruins this day for me, I will never forgive him,” he said. “Kyle is competent enough, but Logan is an idiot.”

War chuckled. “That idiot is still your brother,” he said. “He’s still young, Liam. Be patient with him. He loves you dearly, you know.”

That softened Liam up, but before he could reply, they could both hear shouting coming from the carriage behind them. They turned to see Annaleigh Herringthorpe’s beautiful red hair reflecting the noon sunlight.

“What did you say, my love?” War called back to her.

Annaleigh was Scots to the bone and a more loving, no-nonsense mother had ever existed. He pointed to two of her sons racing down the road like tempests.

“I said those two had better not break something with their foolishness,” she shouted. “Ye shouldna have sent them on ahead.”

War lifted a hand to ease her. “They’ll be fine,” he said. “Between you and Liam, the opinion of Kyle and Logan is much maligned.”

Annaleigh shook her head in disapproval. “Ye know how they are,” she said, ducking her head back into the carriage. “I hope de Royans admits us after meeting that pair!”

The last few words were shouted. Liam burst into soft laughter as War grinned.

He loved all of his sons equally, but he had to admit that his wife had a point.

Kyle was big, aggressive, and always had a smile on his face, which was very disconcerting when he was trying to kill a man.

Logan, on the other hand, wasn’t such a tall or broad man, but he had unearthly skills with a sword.

He also had one of the greatest intellects in the entire family, his father included, but he was young and immature at times.

As War reflected on that, he thought that perhaps his wife might be right.

Perhaps they’d better get to the gatehouse before Kyle and Logan offended someone.

He gave Liam the sign to pick up the pace, and the escort began to run.

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