Home > WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2)(40)

WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2)(40)
Author: Kathryn Le Veque

Tor grunted softly, looking to his blabber-mouth uncle. “I have not yet had the opportunity,” he said deliberately. “Thank you for being the bearer of that particular bit if news.”

Across the table, Gilbert stiffened. “You?” he said to Tor. “You killed him? Why did you not tell me that?”

Tor shook his head. “As I said, I have not yet had the opportunity,” he said, but there was no remorse in his manner. “Your son tried to kill my half-brother. I was perfectly within my rights to protect Alexander. The cost, unfortunately, was Steffan’s life. But that is the price he paid for attacking my half-brother.”

He said it firmly. Gilbert looked at him with some exasperation before finally shaking his head and returning to his cup. He drained the contents and moved to pour himself more.

“I am not disputing you,” he muttered. “I understand. Then it was your half-brother who was the squire?”

“Alexander is only seventeen years of age.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “My son not only ran away from a beautiful bride, but he tried to kill a child.” He waved his hand at them. “Oh, I know that your half-brother is a man. But seventeen years… so young. I simply do not understand what was in Steffan’s mind. I do not understand how and where he got the idea that attacking a squire was the honorable thing to do. I always thought the House of de Royans stood for honor and courage, but where else could he have learned it? What are they teaching their men at Netherghyll Castle?”

No one had an answer for him. As the men began to drink and mull over the situation at Netherghyll, thankfully resolving what could have been a terrible situation between Blayth and Gilbert, Isabella took a seat across the table from Isalyn. She smiled timidly at the woman, who returned her smile without hesitation.

“I know most of the young women from the families in this area,” Isabella said. “I cannot believe I have never been acquainted with you in all this time. But I suppose you do not travel easterly towards Castle Questing much, do you?”

Isalyn shook her head. “Nay, my lady,” she said. “And… and may I say that I, too, am sorry for my brother’s behavior? It was a terrible thing he did to you and I am very sorry.”

Isabella smiled, but it was without warmth. It was a rather sorrowful smile. “Thank you,” she said. “May I say that I am sorry he is dead? This whole situation has been… unpleasant and sad.”

Isalyn was relieved to see that Isabella wasn’t crushed by what her brother had done. Depressed, of course, but she didn’t seem too terribly grieved.

“I am sure it has been,” she said. Unsure what more to say on the matter, she sought to change the subject. “You mentioned that you knew most of the young women in this area, but I do not live in this area. I live in London. I am only here visiting my father.”

Isabella’s eyes lit up as thoughts of Steffan were forgotten. “London,” she breathed as if it were the most beautiful word in the entire world. “How fortunate you are. My brother, Edward, has a manse outside of London, near Windsor Castle. I have visited him on occasion. I find the excitement of the city quite agreeable.”

In spite of the odd situation that had brought them together, Isalyn could feel herself warming to Isabella, who seemed kind and friendly. She was also quite lovely, with dark hair and flashing green eyes. Isalyn could hardly believe her brother had taken advantage of such a sweet-seeming soul.

“As do I,” she said. “I miss it. I was planning on returning shortly, but Tor invited us to visit Blackpool and we were happy to come. It is a very nice fortress.”

Isabella looked around the elaborate and well-built hall and shrugged. “I suppose,” she said. “I have been in halls like this my entire life, so they hold no fascination for me. But London – that is of great interest to me. So many interesting people. The last time I visited Uncle Edward, he took me into the city to show me the sights and we saw people from other countries. There was a man dressed in silks and he had servants following him with a matching silk canopy to shield him from the sun. Uncle Edward told me that the man was from Constantinople.”

Isalyn grinned. She liked the enthusiasm in Isabella’s expression. “I met a man once who told me he was from a place called Kashmir,” she said. “It is so far away that it took him months and months to come to London. Not even the men of Richard’s crusade made it as far as Kashmir.”

Isabella was entranced. “Kashmir,” she said, rolling the name over her tongue. “It sounds wonderful and exotic. And he spoke our language?”

Isalyn nodded. “He did,” she said. “He played an instrument that looked like a citole and sang songs in his language, of far off lands and beautiful women.”

Isabella was listening with great interest. But then, she sighed heavily. “There is no chance of meeting a man from Kashmir in Northumberland,” she said with disappointment. “Are you returning to London soon?”

Isalyn’s gaze flicked to Tor, who was listening to his Uncle Blayth speak with great animation. Was she returning to London soon? Much depended on what happened with Tor in the next few days. Perhaps she would be able to convince him to visit her in London. Perhaps he might even like it and stay a while, and she could show him the world she was part of. But that was all speculation – hopeful speculation.

Quickly, she returned her attention to Isabella.

“At some point soon,” she said after a moment. “It is my home, after all.”

Isabella leaned forward. “Would it be too much of an imposition to visit you sometime?” she asked. “When I go to see my Uncle Edward, I mean. Would it be too much trouble to visit you so I could mayhap meet your man from Kashmir?”

Isalyn grinned. “I would love to have you visit me,” she said. “In fact, you do not have to wait for a visit to your Uncle Edward’s. You are invited to come and stay with me at my aunt’s home any time you wish. It is on Watling Street, near Bow Street. Do you know where that is?”

Isabella shook her head. “I am sorry to say that I do not.” Her face lit up with a smile. “But I will find it!”

She seemed so enthusiastic that Isalyn giggled. It was comforting to find someone who was as excited about the large city as she was. Isabella giggled in response and soon they were giggling together. Under the most peculiar, and uncomfortable, of circumstances, they had found something to bond over. There only seemed to be genuine interest between them, the lure of a new acquaintance and a new conversation. But that quickly came to an end when Isabella caught sight of a pair of women entering from the servant’s alcove.

Isalyn turned to see what had Isabella’s attention and she recognized Lenore returning to the hall. She was with another woman who looked just like her, perhaps a little older, and both of them were heading for the dais. She turned to say something to Isabella but refrained when she saw the look on the woman’s face. That warmth and friendliness was gone, replaced by something that could only be construed as wariness.

The woman was on her guard.

Isalyn was shortly to find out why.

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

“I am telling you that she has that same look upon her face that the Violet woman did,” Lenore hissed at her sister. “The only difference is that Tor is looking at her with equal interest.”

Hot Books
» House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1)
» A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire
» From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1)
» A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime
» Deviant King (Royal Elite #1)
» Den of Vipers
» House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2)
» The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air #
» Sweet Temptation
» The Sweetest Oblivion (Made #1)
» Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels #6)
» Wreck & Ruin
» Steel Princess (Royal Elite #2)
» Twisted Hate (Twisted #3)
» The Play (Briar U Book 3)