Page 7 of Wolfehound (De Wolfe Pack Generations #11)

He could see William de Wolfe as the man sat at a feasting table next to Fair Lydia, who caught sight of her husband the moment he came through the door.

Fair Lydia de Royans—and Fair Lydia was indeed her birth name—was as delicate as a flower, a woman with arms like a bird’s wings, tiny stature, and a crown of pale red hair.

She gasped in joy and leapt up from the table when she saw her husband, leaving de Wolfe behind as she ran to him.

She threw her arms around the man, and even though he was overjoyed to see her, he cautioned her about being too rough.

He had a precious bundle.

“Careful, my love,” he said. “I bear fragile cargo.”

Fair Lydia gasped again when she saw that he was carrying a baby, and before he could say another word to her, she was pulling the child out of his arms.

“Look at him,” she said with the greatest delight. “Oh, Carlton! He is absolutely beautiful!”

Carlton watched as she pulled off the wet cap, revealing damp hair the color of coal. The baby blinked in the light of the hall, eyes of the brightest blue that anyone had ever seen. She was, in truth, a glorious child.

“It is a lass, my love,” he said. “She is rather pretty, I agree.”

Fair Lydia pulled the baby against her, hugging her tightly. “A girl,” she said happily. “An angel. She is an angel!”

“Aye, my love, an angel,” Carlton said. “Can you spare some of your affection for your returned husband now? I’ve not seen you in several months and should like a kiss, at least.”

Fair Lydia nodded. Then she burst into tears. “A kiss cannot express the gratitude that I am feeling,” she sobbed quietly. “I did not think you would remember, but you did.”

“Remember what?”

“This month,” she said, wiping at her nose. “I did not think I would be able to bear the weight of this month, the pain and agony that threatens to consume me, but you have brought me something wonderful to ease my pain. This gift, Carlton… it is more than I could ever hope for.”

With that, she sobbed and sniffled, kissing the infant and holding her tightly.

She didn’t make a move toward welcoming Carlton further than she already had even though she hadn’t seen her husband in almost a year.

But evidently, their reunion would have to wait.

She had a baby in her arms and that was all that mattered.

It was all she cared about.

And Carlton knew it. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that he’d hardly had a reunion with her before she got her hands on the baby.

He was only thinking about her words, what she’d said.

The meaning of them began to sink in as he stood there, increasingly horrified.

God’s Bones, he’d forgotten all about the importance of this month until she reminded him. Perhaps he’d simply blocked it out.

But she hadn’t.

“My dearest, this is not…” he stammered. “The child… I only brought her here so she could be warmed and safe.”

“Of course she shall be warm and safe,” Fair Lydia said, rocking the baby gently and gazing into that lovely little face. “She shall be the warmest and the safest of all children. I will make sure of it.”

“Fair Lydia,” Carlton said, pain in his features, “that is not what I meant by bringing the baby here. She is not ours, my love.”

Fair Lydia wasn’t comprehending what he was trying to tell her. “Nay, she is not ours, but I will love her as if I had given birth to her,” she said. “More, even. She will be very happy with us, don’t you think?”

She didn’t wait around for an answer. She was already showing the child off to the servants who were in the hall as Carlton stood there, dumbfounded.

He was trying to be gentle about the situation because he didn’t want to crush Fair Lydia, but she wasn’t listening to him.

She was hearing what she wanted to hear or, more correctly, making assumptions that she wanted to be true.

He could see how happy she was and hadn’t seen that kind of joy on her face in ages.

That alone shot holes in his willpower to be clear with the truth.

As he stood there, William had come up beside him, watching the situation with some puzzlement.

“Carlton?” de Wolfe said. “What does your wife mean?”

Carlton was feeling sick. “A year ago this month, we lost our infant son,” he said, sounding weak. “My God, I’d forgotten all about it until…”

He trailed off, unable to continue, but it was enough for William. He understood right away. “She thinks you have brought her an infant to replace the one you lost.”

Carlton nodded. Then tears popped into his eyes. “Aye,” he whispered tightly. “That must be what she thinks.”

William didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

He watched Fair Lydia, a truly sweet and gracious woman, as she fawned over the infant and held her up so that more servants could get a good look at her.

She was weeping and laughing, kissing the baby and hugging her all at the same time.

An older woman entered from a servants’ entrance and Fair Lydia crowed her delight to the woman, who nearly screamed in elation.

There was so much happiness on the other side of the hall that it was palpable, and the knights watching the display had no idea what to do.

The de Wolfe sons, over near the entry, looked to see how their father was reacting, but William didn’t have any discernible reaction at all.

He was simply watching like the rest of them.

“What happened to your son?” he finally asked.

Carlton had to wipe the tears from his eyes. “We do not know,” he said. “He was only about three months of age, perfectly healthy as far as we knew. He was a happy baby, a good baby, but Fair Lydia put him to bed one night and in the morning, he was cold and stiff.”

William simply nodded, watching Fair Lydia hand the baby over to the older woman as they both wept over her. Carlton watched them, struggling not to get misty-eyed again, before turning his full attention to William.

“That woman is her mother,” he said softly.

“You have lost a son, my lord, but I lost my son also. His name was Auston. All of my hopes and dreams were pinned to that child because Fair Lydia cannot have another. It almost killed her to have him and the physic told us that another child will be the death of her, so Auston’s death ended my legacy.

I know you are here because of Llywelyn’s daughter.

We all know you intend to seek vengeance against the Welsh who killed your son and I do not fault you for that, but much like my son’s death, I will tell you now that there is no one to blame.

What happened to your son happened during the course of a battle and nothing more.

He was a knight, and in battle, there is always the risk of death.

That is the nature of the vocation. The babe in my wife’s arms did not cause your son’s death, so if you’ve come to take her, I will be obliged to prevent you. I hope you know that.”

It was quite a speech, delivered in a controlled but unmistakable manner.

Carlton meant every word. William didn’t reply immediately.

He kept his gaze on the women who were still weeping over the baby, perhaps pondering what Carlton had said.

It was difficult to tell because William de Wolfe never gave a hint at his emotions or what he was thinking.

Like a wolf, the creature he emulated, he was emotionless and calculating. On the outside, anyway.

But inside, it was quite different.

After discovering that the baby had been taken, William, Scott, Troy, and Patrick had ridden to Lincolnshire as fast as the horses would take them.

They had left Paris and Kieran behind because William was too angry to deal with them, and he was unwilling to let them be a part of this action.

That was indicative of his level of anger because they had always been part of any action he’d ever undertaken since they’d been squires together, but not this time. He felt betrayed.

He wanted to do this alone.

Truth be told, William had spent the first four days of the ride absolutely furious at his closest friends.

The only way he discovered what they’d done was that some of his men had seen Carlton and Colm departing the encampment and news of that departure had made its way back to William.

He had expressed bewilderment to Paris as to why the men had left, considering the battle was not completely finished and there was still work to do, but it was Paris who had confessed why Carlton had taken flight.

And that was why William had remained furious for four solid days, riding like a madman to make it to Folkingham Castle before Carlton did.

He knew about the orders from Edward and he knew that Llywelyn’s infant child was to be placed at Sempringham Priory, so the news that Carlton was carrying out the king’s command did not come as a surprise to him. He already knew about those orders.

It was the one from Paris he had a problem with.

But Paris knew what they all knew—that Edward and William had been locked in some sort of strange power struggle since the waning days of Henry’s rule.

There had always been competition between them and it was always something that William had tolerated because it mostly came from Edward.

Everyone knew that Edward was envious of William and his reputation.

There was no man in England with a greater reputation for fairness and noble behavior, and quite frankly, the man had the respect of more people than just about anyone.

William de Wolfe could always be counted on to do the right thing, something Edward had a fundamental problem with.

William had the respect and love that any king would have longed for, and Edward was no exception, so the bad blood between them had been started by Edward.

And perhaps that was what this was all about.