“Now,” William said quietly. “You will listen carefully to me because it is important. You have had your entire life to do as you please, Thomas, but it is time you fulfill your destiny as a de Wolfe, and that means a strategic marriage. You owe that to your family and to the de Wolfe legacy. Do you understand me so far?”
Thomas refused to answer. He refused to look at his father, but William knew he heard him. He continued.
“Edmund de Vauden is a major landholder in the north and the man is wildly rich,” he said. “He is related to the royal family from generations back, a direct descendant of a bastard of Robert Curthose, son of the Duke of Normandy, and by virtue of that relationship, holds the title Earl of the ancient kingdom of Northumbria. His only child and heiress, daughter Adelaide, is in need of a husband. Allow me to explain to you what this means even though I know you are already aware– Edmund owns Kyloe Castle and Twizell Castle, plus several others. His lands go from Warenford down to Rennington, and all the wayout to the sea. Kyloe Castle itself is a massive fortress that holds more men than Berwick does. It has the largest standing army outside of Alnwick in the north, but more importantly, Edmund de Vauden is the governor of Bamburgh Castle, a royal estate. You know how important that castle is. It is that castle, that army, and that empire which needs a strong hand–yourstrong hand, Thomas. Marry Adelaide de Vauden and you shall know an empire bigger than any estate in the north, including mine.”
Thomas was still staring off into space, refusing to answer, which perturbed William. His patience began to thin.
“I did not raise you to disrespect my will as blatantly as you are doing, so listen well,” he growled. “I will tell your brothers to release you. If you run, it will not be back to Wark Castle. Wark belongs to me and if you disobey me, you are no longer my garrison commander. You may as well keep running because no one will take you in. You are the youngest of my sons but I have never known you to be disobedient. If you intend to start now by refusing this betrothal, then you should tell me now. I will have other arrangements to make.”
Thomas’ jaw was ticking angrily but the hazel eyes, a similar color as his mother’s, moved to William, gazing at the man steadily. It was clear that he had something to say, but he never got the chance. A voice from behind them, from the great mural stairs that led to the upper level of the keep, rang out against the cold stone walls.
“Thomas, get up.” Jordan de Wolfe was viewing the mass of men and grossly displeased about it. “Atty, Scott, Troy, Blayth– get off the man. Do ye hear me? All of ye, get up.”
The heavy Scottish accent of Jordan was not to be trifled with. The mother of the enormous men wrestling on the floor, and more besides, she was a strong, ageless beauty, a tribute to her family and to womanhood as a whole. They didn’t come anyfiner, stronger, intelligent, or beautiful than William’s wife of over fifty years.
More than any battle commander, her voice made men move.
Blayth was the first one to stand up, pulling Patrick up with him. Patrick pulled on Scott as Troy leapt to his feet, hissing at Markus and Andreas and Will. Those three got up, yanking Edward and Axel to their feet as Thomas, at the bottom of the pile, bolted to his feet, turning to look at his mother as she began to come down the stairs.
Jordan had a little girl with her, an eight-year-old child, one that she had not given birth to, but one she had raised since birth. The child looked like a porcelain doll, with curly dark hair and big, dark eyes, and the moment Jordan and the child came to the base of the stairs, the little girl yanked her hand from Jordan’s grasp and ran to Thomas, who picked the child up and cradled her.
It was like throwing water on a fire.
It had been a strategic move on Jordan’s part. Thomas could not become too angry with little Caria around, a child named after the Welsh word forheart. Though Thomas was not the father, Caria de Wolfe belonged to him.
Shewashis heart.
“Intae the solar,” Jordan said quietly, pointing to the door and turning her son for it. “Go in and sit. Caria has been askin’ for ye, so take her with ye.”
What ten men couldn’t accomplish, one small woman and a little girl could. As the men backed off, Thomas silently moved into the solar, followed by his father and mother. Slowly, Scott and Troy and Patrick and Blayth trickled in after them, allowing Will and Andreas and Markus in, but shutting the door in the face of Edward and Axel, who were visibly upset by the fact that they were not included in the group.
As the boys ran off to complain to their father, who was out in the stable guarding against Thomas stealing away on his horse, those settling into the solar under much calmer conditions were now left to deal with the crux of the situation.
This was what it all boiled down to…
An unwanted betrothal.
“Thomas, I realize a marriage between you and Lady Adelaide is unwanted, but I would not do it if I did not believe this was in your best interests,” William said. Jordan came to him and he put his arm around her slender shoulders, presenting a unified front against their resistant son. “Your mother and I have kept silent on any matrimony where you were concerned for eight years, ever since…”
Thomas put up a hand, stopping his father from continuing. “I know,” he said. The fight was out of him now as the reality of the situation settled, but it was also because of the child on his lap. He looked at Caria as the little girl affectionately tugged on his shoulder-length hair. “You do not have to say it. You have not mentioned any betrothals to me since we brought Caria back from Wales, and you have let me lead the life I have needed to lead. I have appreciated it.”
Now, they were at the heart of the situation, the real reason Thomas had been kept clear of any betrothals for the past eight years. William watched the interaction between his youngest son and the little girl, the child of a young woman Thomas had loved.
The woman he’d fallen in love with in Wales had been a woman he’d lost.
She had been a Welsh princess, the sister of the husband of Penelope de Wolfe, Thomas’ youngest sister. Penelope had married the hereditary king of Anglesey and when Thomas had ridden escort to her wedding, he had met Bhrodi de Shera’s very young sister, Tacey, who was pregnant and recently widowed.
The young knight with the soft heart had fallen hard.
But it was a love not to be. Tacey had died in childbirth with Caria, and William had brought the baby back to Castle Questing to hide her from King Edward and his systematic destruction of the Welsh royal houses. Caria was a full-blooded Welsh princess, only she didn’t know it. All she knew was that she was the youngest child of two people old enough to be her grandparents, and her brother Thomas adored her more than any of them. He’d spent years away from her and since his return home, seemed to be trying to make up for all of it. Little Caria was loved deeply and greatly spoiled.
It was what her mother would have wanted.
But the fact remained that Thomas had been resistant to any suggestion of marriage since the loss of Tacey. It was the whole reason he’d been sent away with Kevin, the whole reason he’d tried to find himself on the hot sands of The Levant. Caria was his link, his reminder of what he’d loved and lost, and since Thomas had assumed Wark’s command, the child divided her time between Wark Castle, Thomas’ outpost, and Castle Questing, home of William and Jordan. Thomas’ mother wouldn’t let the child out of her sight, and William didn’t like her spending an over amount of time at Wark, so Caria went back and forth between the two fortresses frequently.
It wasn’t an ideal situation.
Thomas knew that. Even now, as Caria tugged at his hair and hugged his neck enthusiastically, he couldn’t imagine marrying anyone and leaving Caria behind, but he also couldn’t imagine anyone but his mother or Tacey raising the little girl, and that was a problem.
