Page 31 of Wolfehound (De Wolfe Pack Generations #11)

Folkingham Castle

“W ell?” Liam said, planting himself on the bench beside Cambria. “What do you think of my mother?”

Annaleigh had occupied a solid hour of Cambria’s time before War finally pulled her away so the lovers could have some time together.

He’d just spent that hour watching Liam as Liam watched Cambria with anxious eyes, wanting so much to be with her, but his mother was preventing it.

War had had all he could take and finally fetched his wife, giving Liam that window of opportunity to slip in.

Now, in the great hall of Folkingham, Liam and Cambria were sitting together.

Alone.

Finally!

“I think your mother is delightful,” Cambria said, sitting as close as she could to Liam without actually touching him. “She told me that she is a cousin to the Countess of Warenton and that’s how she met her husband.”

Liam nodded. “All true,” he said. “She is a cousin to William de Wolfe’s wife.”

“Then that makes you kin to the House of de Wolfe.”

His smile faded as he looked at her. “Bria,” he said after a moment, “since you are to be my wife, there is something you should know. Something that you must never speak of to anyone else.”

Her expression grew serious. “Of course, Liam,” she said. “I would never speak of something you told me in confidence.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “You should know that I am closer to the House of de Wolfe than you think. William de Wolfe is my grandfather.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “He is?”

“Aye,” Liam said, nodding. “My father is his son, conceived before he met and married his wife. My father is technically William’s eldest son, but because he was born out of wedlock, he cannot inherit. Nor does he want to, just so you know.”

Cambria looked over at War, who was now standing with his wife as they inspected an elaborate tapestry near the dais. She studied the tall, big man with the dark blond hair that was turning silver around the face, now seeing him through different eyes.

Not as a Herringthorpe, but a de Wolfe.

“I’ve only met the former Earl of Warenton once,” she said. “He came to visit my father about ten or twelve years ago. I remember an older man with a patch over one eye. He seemed interested in talking to me, however. He was very nice.”

“He was a kind man,” Liam said. “I have fond memories of him.”

“Did he acknowledge you as his grandson?”

Liam shook his head. “Only in private,” he said.

“The decision had been made long ago to keep my father’s relationship to Warenton private because to publicly acknowledge anything would be to shame my grandmother, the one who conceived my father with a man she was not married to.

Neither my father, nor William de Wolfe, wanted to harm her reputation.

Most people still look at a pregnancy like that, as a lack of morals or a lack of restraint.

They did it to protect her, so that is why we do not speak of it, but he and the other grandsons allowed me a small mercy not long ago to share that family link. ”

“What was that?”

Liam put his left hand on his right shoulder. “I bear a stigmata that all of the grandsons bear,” he said. “A permanent mark of the House of de Wolfe. In my case, it is almost always hidden, but I wear it with pride. It makes me feel as if I am part of something bigger.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “I’m glad you felt you could trust me with it. It seems we shall be a family of many secrets.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

He looked at her, puzzled. “Nay, I do not,” he said. “What is it?”

“Gwenllian.”

That changed his expression in a heartbeat.

His features tensed, his jaw began to flex, and his breathing changed.

It grew deep and slow. It was obvious that he wasn’t sure what to say at first, but he at least did her the courtesy of not pretending that he didn’t know what she was talking about.

But when he continued to remain silent, Cambria spoke.

“I know that you know,” she said softly. “I am not trying to cause an issue, but I want you to know that I know everything.”

He looked away, jaw still flexing. “You are not supposed to know.”

“Why?” she said. “I am glad that someone felt I was mature enough and responsible enough to know the truth. And I will be insulted if you do not feel the same way.”

He looked at her then. “It is not a matter of maturity,” he said quietly. “It is a matter of safety.”

“Whose safety?”

“Yours.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that the fewer people know, the better. The more chance we have of keeping this… secret.”

She could see his point. Sort of. But she could also see something else. “You were never going to tell me, were you?” she asked.

He sighed heavily, once again averting his gaze. “Probably not,” he said. “There is no reason to.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You know where you come from, Liam,” she said. “Is it fair that I should not?”

It was threatening to turn into an argument. The air was fairly crackling with tension at this point. Without a word, Liam stood up and headed out of the hall, leaving Cambria to run after him. She caught up to him in the bailey, where she grabbed him by the arm.

“Rules shall be established now, sir,” she said heatedly. “You will never, ever walk away from me in anger. Not now, not ever. That is not how two people who love each other behave. If there is a problem, we discuss it. But we do not show a lack of respect to the other by simply walking away.”

Liam sighed heavily, hanging his head as he considered her words. “You are correct,” he said. “But in my defense, I did not walk away in anger. I walked away knowing you would follow. What you brought up in the hall cannot be discussed in a chamber like that. People hear, Bria.”

That cooled her anger somewhat, but she was still unhappy. “Very well,” she said. “Since we are no longer in the hall, we may discuss it out here.”

He shook his head, holding up a hand. “There is no need,” he said. “If you already know, there is nothing I can add to it.”

She looked at him, disappointed. “Is this how our marriage is going to be?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I want to discuss something and you do not, you will simply silence me?”

He looked at her. “Of course not,” he said. “But this is not a suitable subject to discuss. If you know what it is, then you know why.”

She cocked her head. “Non-suitable for whom?” she said.

“You? It is quite suitable for me, and before you try to silence me again, know that I feel you’re being quite unfair.

You’ve known about this since the beginning and you never thought to tell me.

Someone has, someone brave, and now I find out I am not who I thought I was.

I am not the person you have told me I was, all of my life.

I am confused and hurt and silencing me is not helping.

I should be able to trust you with all things, Liam, and now I am discovering that when I need you most, you are not willing to help me? ”

That broke him down completely. “Sweetheart, that’s not true,” he insisted softly, reaching out to take her hand.

“Of course you can trust me. You may always trust me. And I can only imagine how you feel. But from my perspective, it has been pounded into my skull that this is a subject that can never see the light of day. I have been conditioned not to mention it, under any circumstances, because your life could be in danger if I do. And I would never do anything to put you in danger.”

She understood, but it didn’t quell her need to speak on it. “Please,” she murmured. “I just need to speak to you about it or surely I will burst.”

With great reluctance, he surrendered. “Very well,” he muttered. “Speak. I will listen.”

Relieved, Cambria wrapped her hands around his enormous forearm and pulled him with her as she started to walk. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I do not want to put anyone in danger, least of all myself, but I would be grateful if you could tell me what you know.”

They were heading into an open part of the bailey where no one was within thirty feet of them, all around.

People were either over near the walls or back near the kitchen yard.

Somewhere behind them, Bran was wandering, as the dog had followed them out of the hall, but he was sniffing at the dirt—and clearly uninterested in what they were speaking about.

Once they reached a spot that was completely open, without nearby ears to overhear what was being said, Cambria came to a halt.

“As you can imagine, the revelation came as a shock to me,” she said in a low voice. “I am still in disbelief, but my mother would not lie to me.”

The light of realization went on in Liam’s eyes and he nodded his head as if his suspicions were correct. “Your mother told you,” he muttered. “I knew it would not be your father.”

“Nay, it was not my father,” Cambria said. “She did not lie, did she?”

“She did not lie.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since I escorted you to Folkingham from Wales.”

Her brow rippled with surprise. “ You escorted me?”

He nodded. “Remember that I was your father’s squire when I was young,” he said. “I was with him on the Welsh campaign. I had seen fourteen summers and, suddenly, I was in charge of a stinky baby and absolutely insulted because of it.”

He meant the stinky part as a jest and she smiled weakly, but it didn’t diminish the seriousness of the subject. “I knew you squired for my father,” she said. “I suppose it did not occur to me that you went to Wales with him or knew me as an infant.”

“I did, to both,” he said, his green eyes glimmering.

“The battles in Wales were brutal and shocking for a young lad of my age, but they were something that helped me grow as a knight. As for the fat baby with black hair and blue eyes, she was no trouble. She was a happy baby, as I recall. And we took her from an encampment in Wales back to Folkingham.”