“That is for Ares de Bourne to decide.”
William grunted unhappily. “God,” he muttered. “How many of them?”
“One hundred and sixty-seven.”
That brought a reaction. “One hundred and sixty-sevenwomen and children?” he said incredulously. “You let de Bourne take them all away?”
“It is not as bad as it sounds, Papa,” Troy said, supporting his son. “Gar only let de Bourne take them with the agreement that they would be taken to abbeys in Northern England for safekeeping. They are not being executed.”
William eyed his son. “And how can you guarantee this?”
“I sent my own men with them,” Gar said. “The women and children are being guarded by my own men, who will ensure they reach Rieveulx Abbey, Fountain Abbey, and Whitby. I was not barbaric, I assure you, but we could not leave them behind. Especially the male children. Youknowthat, Poppy.”
William did. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he understood. “Very well,” he said. “It is not as if you had control of the situation, but at least you insisted on the humanity of it. The last thing we need is for one hundred and sixty-seven women and children to be murdered at the command of an English lord. That would turn the north into a wildfire.”
“I did the best I could.”
“Then it is enough.”
Gar was relieved he wasn’t going to get more of a scolding from his legendary grandfather. It had been a difficult enough situation and, as he’d said, he had done the best he could given the situation. He smiled at the man, trying to bring some of the warmth back into the conversation now that the business had been discussed.
“Thank you,” he said, noting the remains of a meal in front of his grandfather. “Have you recently eaten?”
William shook his head. “Nay, not recently.”
That had Gar sending a servant running for food and drink. Meanwhile, Gar began to peel off his gloves and remove his weapons while his father and grandfather began speaking on some gathering that William and his wife, Jordan, had hosted a couple of months earlier. Something about a betrothal feast for one of William’s youngest son’s children. Gar wasn’t paying much attention to it until William returned his attention to him.
“Speaking of betrothals,” he said. “That is another reason why I’ve come.”
Gar glanced at him as he went to remove a dagger strapped to his leg. “That is an odd subject to bring up now,” he said. “What betrothal?”
“Yourbetrothal.”
Gar paused, mid-movement. “My betrothal?”
“You have one. Or did you forget?”
“I have not forgotten.”
“Good,” William said. “Because Reece de Reyne has written to me about the betrothal and has asked that we move forward with it.”
Gar frowned. “Why would he write to you?” he said. “Why not my father?”
“Because I am the one who will make all things possible.”
Gar glanced at his father, who simply looked away. He knew that Troy wasn’t hugely enthusiastic about a marriage to Gar at this time simply because he was fairly young for such a thing. He was a young, powerful, and extremely intelligent knight who was just starting to build his reputation. He’d been a fully fledged knight since seventeen years of age simply because there was no reason to not grant the man his spurs.
Gar was already something of a legend.
Somewhere back in the family lines, Gar had inherited the same height that his Uncle Patrick had, though it wasn’t as pronounced. Still, he was almost a head taller than his father,and taller than his grandfather, and he had an enormous, muscular build. He’d looked like this when he turned eighteen years of age and he swung a sword better than more seasoned men, with impeccable decision making in the heat of battle. That made Gar de Wolfe something every knight strove to be—infallible, but with heart.
He most definitely had heart.
He also had no shortage of female admirers. There were rumors about him on the borders, how the dark and swarthy grandson of the Wolfe was as handsome as a god with his sun-kissed skin, black hair, and pale green eyes. He wasn’t a rake, either. There had been more than one inquiry from hopeful fathers on his marital status, but they were turned away disappointed to learn that Gar was already betrothed to a daughter of the House of de Reyne. A fine match, most said. A fine match to a perfect warrior. But there was one thing those fathers, and daughters, didn’t know that would make them glad for no betrothal if they did.
Bluntly, Gar lived like a pig.
The man had no sense of hygiene, cleanliness, or anything along those lines. If it was natural, he accepted it, no matter what it was. That came from living with men, and training with men, and in all honesty, women scared him. He knew nothing about them and he couldn’t control them like he could control men, so anything out of his scope of expertise had him intimidated.
