CHAPTER TEN
Out in the smoky twilight, Scott’s departure from the destroyed solar found him taking the steep, spiral stairs up to the second floor of Castle Canaan.
He was still filled with the rush of battle, laboring to calm himself, but he found that he couldn’t. He’d been pushed beyond his endurance this night and had finally lashed out at the du Rennic knights who seemed willing to show such disrespect to him because he’d let them. He’d tried to be understanding; he’d tried to show patience. He told himself that they were only grieving over Nathaniel’s death. Perhaps that was true but, on this night, that grief had tipped the tides of favor against them. Scott was coming to think that they must have perceived him as being weak when he’d been showing patience.
He wouldn’t make that same mistake again… and neither would they.
There was a satisfaction now in his mood, satisfied that the du Rennic knights would settle down now that they knew de Wolfe would strike. Black Adder. That’s what Lady du Rennic had called him and he’d certain lived up to that name. As the only one of his father’s sons who lived in the shadows, removed from the rest and lost to his own world, he was also the one most likely to destroy in a flash.
Jeremy Huntley had discovered that particular trait about him.
As he entered the second level, he looked around to see that everything was dark and quiet. This level contained several chambers, including a chapel, several guard chambers, and five rooms that the du Rennic family used. Shortly after his arrival at Canaan, Scott had taken one of the family chambers, a larger chamber that was nearest to the guard rooms and the portcullis room over the gatehouse entry. The chamber had evidently belonged to Lord and Lady du Rennic, as their private retiring room, but Scott showed no regard to that. He’d confiscated it because it had a massive bed and being a big man, he wanted a big and comfortable bed. While his knights slept in the guard rooms nearby, Scott found sanctuary in the large du Rennic chamber.
Making his way to the chamber, he passed through a series of rooms where his men were on watch, including the portcullis chamber which had a direct view of the drawbridge and gatehouse passageway below. He paused a moment, checking the gatehouse for himself and exchanging a few words with his men that were stationed there. It wasn’t normal for him to address his men directly but, in this case, without Stewart around, he had little choice. He had questions about efficiency and his men were more than willing to answer. Satisfied, he continued on to the family block of rooms down a narrow corridor and opened the first door he came to.
By the time he entered the chamber, he realized that he wasn’t quite so angry any longer. At least his temples weren’t throbbing like they had been. Still, it occurred to him that both Lady du Rennic and her ridiculous brother seemed intent on either asking him about his dead wife or otherwise presenting the subject. Both of them knew of Athena’s passing and both of them had brought it into the conversations he’d had with them.
It was a cruel thing to do.
In truth, Scott wasn’t particularly surprised they knew because that terrible day four years ago wasn’t a secret; the news had spread and when Scott had assumed the Bretherdale barony, he’d had a conversation with Nathaniel about it. He’d had too much to drink the night he’d come to Canaan to see the property for the first time and Nathaniel, being easy to speak to, ended up hearing the parts of the story that Scott was at least willing to speak of under drink. Scott had no idea where Nathaniel had heard the rest of it. But surely, men gossiped in military circles. They were worse than women at times. Someone had clearly told Nathaniel the entire story and, in turn, Nathaniel had spoken of it to his family.
So now, they knew.
But what they didn’t know was that it was a forbidden subject and Scott would have to make it clear to Lady du Rennic that any talk of the events from his past was unwelcome. Still, it seemed the woman was being as ridiculous as her brother when it came to accepting Edward’s directive and the fate of Canaan. But, at the moment, Scott didn’t want to think about them any longer. This journey to Canaan had become far more of a frustrating task than he had expected.
Perhaps he would send word to Edward to dispatch Lady du Rennic’s future husband to Canaan immediately so he could return to his home of Ravenstone. Although he told Lady du Rennic that he would delay his response to Edward regarding her fate, quite honestly, he didn’t see the need now. Why should he protect a lady who clearly was ungrateful for it?
He found that he very much wanted to go home.
Summoning one of the soldiers he’d passed in the guard chambers, Scott sent the man for food and wine. He wanted to eat in his room, in peace and quiet, and retire for the night because he found that he was quite exhausted. More than that, he simply needed time to himself. He was solitary that way. He could only pray tomorrow was a better day with the occupants of Canaan because he knew, feeling as he did, that he would have no patience for anymore foolishness.
His next strike, he knew, would be deadly.
There was plenty of peat and kindling by the hearth so he started a fire, bringing light and warmth into the room as the sun set and a blanket of stars filled the sky. He also lit one of the tapers near the end of the bed, gazing from the nearby lancet window as the last strains of day became night. The landscape in the vale was truly beautiful, with green, rolling hills and the white sprinkling of sheep to the east, part of Canaan’s vast estate. Everything was damp and lush, and he could smell that dampness upon the night air. Turning away from the window, he went to remove his belt when he noticed that his bed was moving.
Scott was standing right next to it, watching something, or someone, undulate under the covers, and he immediately went into battle mode. After what just happened in the solar, he wasn’t taking any chances. The dagger at his side came out and he lifted it, preparing to stab it into the bed linens. But it quickly occurred to him that this was either the most incompetent assassin in the world or it wasn’t an assassin at all; surely someone out to kill him would have struck the moment he entered the chamber. Now, more curious than startled, he peered closer at the bed only to see a small foot suddenly pop out from beneath the coverlet. With a sigh, he sheathed his blade and yanked the coverlet away.
A small, blonde head appeared, blue eyes blinking up at him sleepily. Then came a big yawn as Stephen rubbed his eyes.
“I was waiting for you!” he announced.
Scott rested his fists on his hips. “Waiting for me?” he repeated. “Why? Don’t you know that you are not supposed to be in here?”
Stephen yawned again, sitting up and still rubbing at his eyes. “You were not here,” he said simply as he scooted off the bed and nearly fell to the floor because of the height of the bed. He caught himself, though, and shuffled around the side of the bed. “I wanted to show you something. You must see it!”
Scott found himself following. He was perturbed, that was true. But if was honest with himself, he was only perturbed because he’d nearly stabbed the child. The mere thought of what could have happened gave him a shudder of horror. But he shook it off, following the boy around the side of the bed and over to the eastern wall where the chamber door was located. It was a long wall and there was a wardrobe against it. Next to the wardrobe, Scott could see a clutter of… something. He wasn’t even sure what it was, but Stephen went right to it and plopped down next to it.
“See?” Stephen said. “I brought my men. I wanted to show you my men.”
Scott couldn’t really see what the boy was talking about so he went back over to the hearth to light the bank of candles that was next to it. The candles were on an iron floor stand, about four feet in height, and the moment he ignited all three, the room lit up significantly. Then, he could see what the lad was talking about.
There were many wooden men on the floor around a pile of rushes. There were also two tiny toy trebuchets, much like the big ones that Gordon Huntley had built. Stephen pointed proudly.
“See my men?” he asked. “This is my army and I am attacking a castle, just like the battle the other day. Those men attacked and we fought them off. Will you help me with my battle?”
Scott should have been annoyed at the very least. This child was invading his sanctuary, this little sliver of time that he was to have all to himself. But the request from the lonely little boy, now fatherless because of him, had his heart softening more than he would admit. This child was the only son of a man he had admired a great deal and practically the only person from the du Rennic household who had shown him some kindness.
Aye, he was softening a great deal. It was the father in him.
“It is growing late, young Stephen,” he said. “Does your mother know you are here?”
Stephen shook his head, his demeanor changing dramatically. He looked at his men, a smile no longer on his face. “Mam is sad again.”
Scott frowned. “What does that mean? Where is she?”
The child turned to his toys. “In bed.”
“Why do you say she is sad?”
“She is crying again.”
Scott sighed faintly; tears, no doubt, as a result of the news he’d delivered earlier in the day. “Where are your sisters?” he asked.
Stephen put his finger on the trebuchet and released the trigger, causing the little thing to swing forward just like the real ones did. “They are in bed with her,” he said. “Will you please help me with my battle?”
Scott couldn’t help but feel some pity for the boy, for the situation in general. He also felt some guilt at having caused Lady du Rennic more tears. But it couldn’t be helped. Much like Jeremy, Lady du Rennic had to come to terms with the change that would soon be coming and there wasn’t anything Scott could do to stop it.
Truthfully, it seemed all he’d done to the du Rennic family was bring sorrow, from Nathaniel’s death to Edward’s directive, and caught in the middle were the children. Like the sad little boy in front of him.
He knew what he had to do, at least for Stephen’s sake.
Pulling off his belt and tossing it onto the bed, he went to stand over the child as he played with his toys.
“I will help you,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”
Stephen lit up. “Here!” he exclaimed, taking a handful of toy soldiers and putting them at Scott’s feet. “You will be the master of the castle and I will attack you. You must defend yourself!”
Scott frowned as he began to pull off his mail. “Why must I be attacked?” he asked. “Why can I not attack you?”
Stephen shook his head. “I must attack,” he said firmly. “I will break your walls down.”
“Not if I prevent you.”
Stephen was clearly thrilled at the prospect. Stripped down to his padded tunic and breeches now, Scott set his mail aside and planted his big body on the floor next to the boy as they set up their offensive and defensive lines. A battle of epic proportions was shaping up.
It was a moment in time Scott would never forget.
He had forgotten what it was like to give children his attention and he realized that he had missed it. He soon discovered Stephen to be very bright and eager to learn, inevitably reminding Scott of his own sons, those living and dead. He’d been around when his boys had been very young because he’d learned from his own father early on what it was to be a good and attentive parent.
William, Scott’s eldest, was the very image of his grandfather and namesake, a serious young lad who was shy but loving. Thomas, his second born, was more like Athena with his auburn hair and boisterous personality. In fact, Tommy was very much like his grandfather, Paris. And Andrew… young, bright, and loving, was very much like Scott’s own mother, Lady Jordan. Andrew had been Stephen’s age when he had died and the more Scott looked at Stephen, the more he wondered if God wasn’t trying to tell him something.
It was the first time Scott had been around a boy Andrew’s age since the accident. Perhaps in Stephen, God was somehow trying to bring him comfort. Perhaps even give him a chance to relive something he’d lost. All Scott knew was that this moment, with a lonely little boy, was bringing him comfort like nothing had in the four years since Andrew’s death. Such a small gesture – playing with wooden soldiers – did something to Scott’s heart. It healed it, just a little. Rather than run from it this time, he gave in to it.
That night, Scott helped Stephen build a fairly impressive fortress with the old branches. He helped the lad position his men and the tiny siege engines, and spent the rest of the evening in the company of a four-year-old boy who was having the time of his life. To see such joy through the eyes of a child brought a sense of joy to Scott that he hadn’t felt in a very long while. In fact, he began to see that although Stephen had lost his father, and grieved him, he hadn’t lost his joy for life. That’s where Scott and Stephen were different; Scott had lost all of his joy for life and he had no idea how to get it back. But Stephen had never lost it to begin with. This child was still soldiering on.
Scott had all but given up.
It was an interesting revelation and one that gave him a good deal of thought as the night progressed. He played with the child for a couple of hours at the very least, not even pausing when his meal was brought in and his squires appeared to take away and clean his mail. But the hour soon began to grow late and as Stephen began to yawn, Scott tried to talk the child into returning to his chamber. Stephen wouldn’t hear of it. He hadn’t ‘broken the wall yet, meaning he’d not breached Scott’s fortified rushes, and wouldn’t retire until he did. Scott had to, therefore, throw the entire siege to allow Stephen to overcome him so the child could go to bed.
Stephen gloated in his victory but he also made sure to tell Scott he fought a good battle, which Scott found rather touching. It was surprising maturity and compassion, but that was Nathaniel talking. He had raised his son well. Becoming increasingly exhausted, Scott lay down on the floor, listening to Stephen tell him what a grand warrior he was and tried to be helpful about rebuilding the wall that had been torn down. Scott remembered thinking that Stephen would make a fine warrior someday, and would make Nathaniel proud, but that was the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him.
It had been one of the better evenings he’d spent over the past four years.
*
Stephen was sleeping like the dead, pressed up against Scott, who was also sleeping like the dead.
Avrielle could hardly believe her eyes.
Having cried herself to sleep the night before with her children in bed with her, she hadn’t realized that Stephen had somehow slipped out until she awoke before dawn and realized that only the girls were still with her. She hadn’t been worried until a search of her chamber and the children’s chamber had turned up empty. Then, she began to feel a bit apprehensive and searched through the remaining two family chambers, and every chamber on the top floor of the castle including the guard rooms, but still no Stephen. Frightened, and with a lump in her throat, she’d gone to de Wolfe’s chamber as a last resort to ask for help in searching for her son before coming upon the scene she was witnessing now.
Still, she could hardly believe it.
Scott was flat on his back on the cold, hard floor, snoring loudly, as Stephen slept cuddled up next to the man, his head on de Wolfe’s left shoulder. At first, Avrielle was startled, shocked even, but that reaction quickly faded when she saw the rushes stacked up like a castle and Stephen’s toys spread out all over the place. Clearly, there had been something going on here. But given de Wolfe’s demeanor, she could hardly believe the man had allowed Stephen to play with his toys in this chamber.
… or did he?
The evidence was clear and de Wolfe was sleeping on the floor next to her son, so she could only imagine that some kind of play had gone on. Perhaps de Wolfe had even encouraged it. Dare she say it – perhaps he even participated in it? The mighty Lord Bretherdale reduced to playing children’s games? It was the most astonishing thing she had ever seen.
But it was also the most touching.
Stephen had been so lonely without Nathaniel, who used to play with his son quite frequently. It would only be natural for Stephen to gravitate towards another male figure, in this case, Scott de Wolfe. Avrielle had kept her son away from his uncle because of Jeremy’s volatility and his interaction with Gordon had been limited because Gordon spent all of his time trying to keep Jeremy from doing anything foolish.
But de Wolfe… he must have shown some measure of compassion towards Stephen that should make her son come to the man’s chamber with his toys. That was the only explanation Avrielle could come up with. But she had to admit one thing… seeing de Wolfe on the floor with her son, both of them laying there as if they were sleeping off a drinking binge, made her see the man through different eyes.
Kinder eyes, perhaps.
With a smile on her lips, Avrielle watched the scene for a moment before deciding not to wake them. At least she knew where her son was now and she would wait for the lad to awaken on his own. Silently, she turned away from the pair on the floor and headed to the door when she heard a soft voice behind her.
“Are you going to leave without taking what you have come for?”
Startled, she turned around to see that Scott’s eyes were open and he was looking at her. The snoring he’d been doing had come to an abrupt halt but Stephen remained sound asleep. She took a few quiet steps back in Scott’s direction.
“You both seemed so peaceful that I did not wish to wake you,” she whispered. “I awoke a short while ago to discover that Stephen was missing and…”
Scott cut her off, but it was not harshly done. “He has been here since last night,” he muttered, putting a hand over the boy’s ear when Stephen stirred against him, roused by the voices. “I suppose I should have sent word to you, but time got away from me. I apologize if you were frightened.”
Avrielle moved closer so they would not be raising their voices as they spoke. She crouched down at Scott’s feet, her gaze lovingly on her son.
“Now that I know he is with you, I am content,” she said. “But I am sorry if he has been a bother.”
“Why would you say that?”
She pointed to the pile of toys and rushes. “Because he brought his toys in here. Did he demand you play with him?”
A spark of warmth came to Scott’s eyes. “He will make a very good knight,” he said after a moment. “I see much of Nathaniel in him. He will make his father very proud.”
Avrielle smiled faintly, finding pride in her young son. “Nat was proud of him already,” she murmured. “He used to play with Stephen for hours, instructing him on how to lay a siege or position his men. To Stephen, it was play. But to Nat, it was somewhat serious. He wanted to impart his wisdom upon his son. Stephen has been very lonely without Nat here to play with.”
Scott’s gaze lingered on the woman in the weak light, thinking that she was even more beautiful with the faint hint of morning light upon her face. “Does he not play with your father or brother?” he asked.
Avrielle shrugged. “Sometimes,” she said. “But I have kept him away from my brother since Nat’s death. Jeremy’s mood has been too volatile and I do not want… well, it does not matter. It would not interest you. Suffice it to say that I am very grateful for the patience and kindness you have shown him.”
“It was no trouble.”
Avrielle’s gaze was on her son, looking at the way Scott was holding him. Like a father. Scott looked very comfortable with Stephen in his arms and that made Avrielle’s heart leap strangely. It was difficult to believe that beneath that serious, intimidating exterior beat the heart of a man with some compassion and understanding for children. It reminded her of what Nathaniel had told her about Scott’s tragedy, something that Avrielle had brought up in the heat of an argument yesterday. Something she shouldn’t have spoken of, but did it to make a point.
It had been wrong of her.
“Thank you for your understanding,” she said quietly. Then she hesitated a moment before continuing. “My lord, I… I must say something to you. I must apologize for speaking out of place yesterday when you told me of the king’s directive and I asked if you would be so eager to remarry after the death of your wife. I should not have said such a thing; it was terribly cruel and I pray you can forgive me. I was upset and I should have controlled my tongue better than I did. It is a fault of mine, speaking before I think at times.”
Scott could hear the sincerity in her tone. In truth, he almost couldn’t remember the harsh words between them but he was pleased with the apology. It told him that she was a woman of deep feeling for others, one who was cognizant of her actions. The woman had her entire world turned upside down but still, she was able to see beyond her own pain. Somehow, that made her more beautiful to him.
“We often say things in anger that we should not have,” he said. “Think no more of it.”
She forced a smile. “It is difficult not to,” she said. “It is difficult not to think of everything that has happened since Nat’s death, and now this. I… I suppose you were correct when you said that life goes on. I know that. But there is a huge part of me that does not want to go on.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged, averting her gaze as she lowered herself to her buttocks, her back braced against the bed. “I mean that I want everything to remain as it is,” she said quietly. “I never thought I would be facing the rest of my life without Nat. We met when I was very young, you see. I was about to turn sixteen when I married him and eight years later, I cannot seem to envision my life without him. He promised to return to me and raise our children together and I suppose there is a part of me who has not forgiven him for not keeping that promise.”
“That is understandable.”
“May… may I ask you a question, my lord?”
“Aye.”
She swallowed hard, as if struggling how to phrase her question. “If I may ask how you have…,” she trailed off, stopped, and then started again. “That is to say, do you have any regrets from your wife’s passing? Were you angry with her for leaving you? I find that I am very angry with Nat for leaving me and I feel so terribly guilty for it. Is it wrong of me to be so furious with him?”
It wasn’t an unexpected question, but one Scott found himself naturally reluctant to answer. “Have you spoken to your priest about this? I cannot give you absolution, Lady du Rennic.”
Avrielle’s face flushed red with, perhaps, some embarrassment. “I am not looking for absolution,” she said. “And I have spoken with a priest, but he said so many foolish things meant to give me comfort. They did not give me comfort at all. I thought that you… because you have suffered through this… might tell me if you felt the same things. Mayhap, I would not feel so guilty if I knew someone else has experienced what I have.”
Scott considered her words carefully. Had anyone else asked him these questions, he would have refused to answer, but with Avrielle, it was different. She was genuinely trying to find answers in a world that didn’t make sense any longer. Having gone through the same thing she had, the death of a beloved spouse, Scott could understand her search for answers. She was absolutely right in that assumption.
It took him a moment to realize that for the first time in four years, he felt as if he could answer the question and not implode because of it. The time he’d spent here at Canaan with a grieving family, and a lonely little boy, had somehow given him strength and perspective in a matter he’d ignored for so long. Odd how the little things had affected him more than he realized. It was dangerous ground he was about to tread on, but perhaps it was time for him. Perhaps in helping her, he would help himself as well.
With a sigh, he looked up to the ceiling as he allowed his mind to go back to that day. But, God… it was terrifying.
“My wife and her sister were taking the younger children to visit my brother in Berwick, whose wife had just had a baby,” he said softly. “I was supposed to accompany them but my father had business that needed attending to and he asked if I would tend to it for him. I agreed. I was to ride to Northwood Castle to deliver a few things on behalf of my father while my wife and her sister would ride to Berwick in the company of a contingent of men that I hand-picked. I was worried about the Scots, you see, and that was my only concern. I was not worried about anything else at that time. But in hindsight, it was that lack of foresight that caused the death of my wife, her sister, my two youngest children, and my wife’s sister’s two youngest children. My wife’s sister also happened to be married to my twin brother so, in that sense, I caused the death of his children as well. I killed two families that day.”
Avrielle had to make a conscious effort to keep her mouth from opening in horror as the story unfolded. “Why?” she gasped. “What happened?”
Scott’s mind lingered on that day, the first time in all of those years that he’d allowed himself to truly ponder it. Once he put a foot in the memory pool, it was like quicksand – it sucked him up and he could not escape. Now, he was seeing that day with blinding clarity and he was unable to pull away. He steeled himself against those memories, struggling to stay calm.
“My wife was very headstrong,” he said, his voice husky and low. “It was my fault that I indulged her in most things. If she wanted to go somewhere, I would allow her to go. If she wanted to do something, or to buy something, I would allow it. She was difficult to deny because she would usually beat at me like a harpy until she got her way. She always got her way, in everything. Had I been with her on the trip to Berwick, I would have seen that the swollen river and the damaged bridge were unsafe and I would have refused to let her cross it. But I was not there and the soldiers I had sent with her did not have the authority to deny her, even in cases of safety. I had not made that clear to them. I thought my wife would have had better sense than to try and take a heavy carriage across a damaged bridge, but evidently, she did not. She insisted the carriage cross and the bridge collapsed, dumping the carriage into the water. Everyone inside drowned as a result.”
Avrielle was stunned. “Oh… my lord,” she breathed. “I am so sorry. How you must have agonized over the situation.”
His jaw ticked faintly as he thought on what, exactly, he’d felt over the years. He’d spent so much time running from it that he really wasn’t sure. “Am I angry at her?” he mumbled. “Aye, I am. Now, four years after the fact, I am still very angry at her for risking her life and the lives of our children. But I find that I am more angry with myself that I was not with her at the time. I could have prevented it all. Therefore, Lady du Rennic, your guilt in Nat’s death is not unusual, for I know exactly what you feel.”
As he finished, Avrielle was struggling not to weep. It was a horrific tragedy, something that Nathaniel had touched on when he told her of de Wolfe’s catastrophe but he hadn’t elaborated. Now, she knew the entire story and it was very difficult not to weep for the man. And for herself.
Loss like that cut too deeply for words.
“Then you do understand,” she whispered tightly. “I am so sorry for you, my lord, truly. But it was not your fault. How could you have known?”
Scott had been asking himself that same question since it happened. “I could not have,” he said. “But I should have had the foresight to instruct the guards and my wife on issues of safety. It did not occur to me.”
“As it would not have occurred to me,” Avrielle insisted. “You cannot blame yourself for your wife’s decision. It was her own and if she was as headstrong as you say she was, even if you were there, could you really have prevented her from crossing the bridge?”
Another question Scott had been asking himself. He sighed with resignation. “Mayhap,” he said. “Mayhap not. Knowing Athena, she would have found a way to go around me.”
So the mysterious dead wife had a name. “Athena,” she murmured. “What a beautiful name.”
“It suited her.”
“And your children? May I know their names so that I may pray for them?”
“Andrew and Beatrice. They were four years old and three years old, respectively.”
Avrielle thought on the children he lost, very small like her own. Sadly, she shook her head. “They were so young,” she whispered.
“They were.”
“But you said you have older sons?”
He nodded. “Much older,” he said, thinking of his eldest children. “They are fostering near Hereford. Lioncross Abbey Castle, in fact.”
Avrielle thought on the proud de Wolfe sons. “I am sure they have been a great comfort to you in this time of sadness.”
Scott was still staring at the ceiling as he thought of his sons who were now young men. “I have not seen them in years,” he said. “I see no need.”
It was a surprising statement and Avrielle cocked her head curiously. “Why would you say that?” she asked. “I am sure they would welcome a visit from their father.”
Scott was starting to feel some agitation now, entering a phase of the conversation where he felt no peace, no resolution, and that agitation loosened his tongue. Much as her husband had been, Lady du Rennic seemed easy to speak to and Scott felt no hesitation when speaking to her of his life, his situation. Once the subject was breached, it was as if it all started pouring forth.
“Because I am sure they blame me, also,” he said. “You may as well know that I do not find comfort in my family as you do. It was my wife who made the decision to cross the damaged bridge and I could not look into my brother’s eyes, a man who had lost his wife and two children also, and not see his anger towards me. I could not look at my father or my wife’s father and not see the accusations in their eyes. I am the eldest son of William de Wolfe, the feared Wolfe of the Borders, and I am not supposed to be anything other than perfect. My life, my family, including my wife and children, are all supposed to be perfect. Do you not understand? Because I let my wife do as she pleased, my entire family is fractured and it is all my fault. You speak of guilt, lady? I have enough to fill an ocean and then some.”
Avrielle could see his raw vulnerability in that moment. The man had such pain in him that he kept masked by a stiff demeanor and intimidating manner. God, how he’d suffered. Impulsively, she reached out and clasped his right hand laying at his side. She gripped his big fingers tightly.
“I cannot believe that you would be blamed for such a tragedy,” she insisted softly. “You had no control over the events and I am sure your family knows that. You cannot blame yourself for your wife’s decision, much as I know I cannot blame Nat for his decision to go to battle one last time. They may be our spouses, but we cannot control them. They have minds of their own. You have been accepting guilt that was not yours to take.”
Scott looked at her, feeling her warm hand holding his, and his heart began to race. Her words made so much sense to him and he found himself glad that he’d spoken of his feelings to her. She understood, a deeper grasp of the situation than anyone else who knew of it, simply because she was living it herself. Everything she said was true and the words of encouragement, of forgiveness, cut through him more than anything ever had in the four years since it had happened. His mother had tried to speak to him on it, as had his father, his brothers, his uncles… everyone had tried to speak to him on his guilt but he wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t accept it. But now… a woman he barely knew, who was suffering through the same thing he had, was telling him something his own family couldn’t get through to him.
But with Avrielle… he was listening.
“It is my burden,” he said hoarsely, gazing into her bright blue eyes and feeling a rush of emotion. “Someone must be blamed and that someone is me. It is the only way I can live with the situation.”
Avrielle squeezed his hand again, purely to comfort him. “Then using your logic, I am at fault for letting Nat go to his death. I will never get over it, either.”
Scott shook his head, finding himself squeezing her fingers. They were so warm and soft, something he’d not felt in years. “Your situation is different.”
“Why?”
“Because Nathaniel was answering the call to battle. It was not within your power to deny him that obligation.”
She shook her head, pulling her hand away. “I could have,” she insisted. “Had I pleaded with him enough, he would not have gone. I did not try hard enough. Dear God, am I truly going to be like you for the rest of my life? Will I truly live with such guilt that it will separate me from everything I love? And what of this new husband Edward would force me to take? I will look at him and hate him because of that guilt.”
Scott could see that she was becoming distraught. Carefully, he disengaged himself from Stephen, laying the little boy next to his rush castle. Sitting up, Scott moved closer to Avrielle. He could see that her eyes were starting to water so he reached out, grasping her by the arms and forcing her to look at him.
“Listen to me,” he whispered. “This is not your guilt to assume. You know as well as I do that nothing you could have said or done would have prevented Nathaniel from answering the call to duty. Do you know what I see when I look at you? More guilt, because I issued the call and it was because of me that your husband was killed. Don’t you know that when I look at you, I see the pain I have caused you? If I could have taken Nathaniel’s place that day, know that I would happily do it a thousand times over. If I could give him back to you, I would.”
Avrielle looked at Scott, seeing naked sincerity on the man’s face. Everything about him was raw and honest, and she believed him without question. In fact, she saw almost a desperation about him to that regard, as if he thought throwing himself upon his sword would bring Nathaniel back to her, then he would do it. She found herself giving in to the comfort of his big hands, just as she’d once given in to the man’s comfort in the garden the first time she met him.
Something about him touching her… God, it would be so easy to…
“I know you would,” she said quietly. “I believe you would. I suppose… I suppose I see that you have not reconciled your loss even though it has been years and it frightens me that I might do the same thing.”
Scott pondered her words but he didn’t let her go. He rather liked the feel of her, this woman with whom he shared a strange but powerful bond.
“You will not be like me,” he said frankly. “Surely you have better sense than I do.”
Avrielle thought she could see that flicker of warmth back in his eye. “I fear I am exactly like you,” she said. “I loved my husband as you loved your wife. Do you suppose that you shall ever find peace, my lord?”
Scott thought on the sleeping boy next to him and the healing he’d done in the short time he’d been at Canaan. Aye, he’d healed some and that was surprising. He’d probably healed more in just a few days than he had in the past four years. Gazing at Avrielle’s face, he began to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Odd how that realization just came to him; if a broken family could begin healing for him, then perhaps there was hope.
Perhaps in that broken family, there was hope. Staring into Avrielle’s face, a thought occurred to him – why can I not find hope in her?
“I hope so,” he said after a moment. “I do not want to be like this for the rest of my life. Once, I was resigned to it, but now… now, I am not entirely certain.”
Avrielle looked at him curiously, perhaps even anxiously. “Then you do not feel as if you shall feel guilty for the rest of your life?”
He shook his head, dropping his hands from her arms although he was reluctant to do it. He felt that it would be best if he did considering the thoughts he was thinking about the woman even as he looked at her. Bright, beautiful… and widowed. That thought had occurred to him before, but not like this. Never like this. Edward already had a potential husband selected for her.
But what if that potential husband was a de Wolfe?
He wondered.
“I do not know,” he said honestly. “But one can hope for healing. Even speaking with you now, as I have done – do you know I have never told anyone what I told you?”
Her eyes widened. “Never?”
He shook his head. “Not like I did with you,” he said, feeling overwhelmed with what he was thinking, what he was feeling. “It is not something I’ve spoken of since it happened.”
Avrielle could see that he seemed either confused by it or upset by it. Now, he wasn’t looking her in the eye any longer; it appeared he was afraid to. Gently, she put a hand on his arm.
“I will not tell anyone, I swear it,” she said. “I would never tell anyone what you told me.”
He shrugged, feeling her hand on his arm like a searing brand. The woman made his heart race in a way it hadn’t raced in years.
“It is not as if it is a big secret,” he said, rolling to his knees before rising to his feet. “Your brother knew enough of it last night to throw it in my face, so I suppose everyone knows what has happened. It is a tragic tale in a world full of tragic tales; mine is no different.”
Avrielle stood up because he was, but she was looking at him with some displeasure. “My brother spoke of it cruelly to you?” she asked.
Scott nodded. “He did.”
She frowned, outraged. “I cannot believe he would do such a thing,” she said. “I will speak to him immediately. He shall know that I greatly disapprove of such a…”
Scott put up a hand, quieting her because Stephen rolled onto his back, semi-roused by the raised voice of his mother. They both watched the child as he yawned and quickly drifted off to sleep again. Only then did Scott speak.
“It is not necessary,” he said. “He knows what I thought of his disrespect. You do not need to involve yourself.”
Avrielle wasn’t certain about that. She shook her head angrily. “Sometimes, my brother can be most foolish,” she said. “He continues to try my patience, day after day.”
“Then why do you allow him to remain here?”
She looked at him, surprised. “Because… because he is my brother. But that is not a good enough reason, not when he creates such havoc.”
Considering the order Scott had given Stewart the night before, that Jeremy was to be banished from Canaan, he eyed Avrielle as she spoke of her brother, thinking he should probably tell her all of it.
“I suppose I should be honest about your brother,” he said. “Last night, he and I had a falling out. A fight, in fact. I have given orders that he be sent away from Canaan.”
Avrielle went from great disapproval to great shock. “You did?” she gasped.
“I did.”
“And… and my father?”
“He is welcome to stay. Your father is the only reasonable du Rennic man I have met since I came here.”
Avrielle considered what she’d been told. Truthfully, she wasn’t surprised by any of it. But she found herself torn. Jeremy was rash, brutal, and constantly challenging her authority at Canaan, but he was still her brother. He wasn’t truly evil. But he did, indeed, create chaos.
“I suppose it is for the best,” she said. “I am not entirely sure you would ever know a moment’s peace if he remained here.”
Scott could sense that she was, perhaps, saddened by his order. He didn’t like to see her saddened.
“If you do not wish for me to send him away, I will not,” he said quietly.
She looked at him, surprised. “I… I do not understand. I never said…”
“I know you did not. But you have already lost one man you love. If it would pain you to send away your brother, then I would not wish to cause you any more pain.”
It was nearly the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her, much less such words coming from the great and noble Scott de Wolfe. Her heart began to beat just a little faster, seeing that warmth in Scott’s eyes again but feeling that there was more there this time. There was something deeper going on, a deeper meaning, a deeper feeling, and her heart, so broken as of late, began to feel what their entire conversation, for the most part, had revolved around – hope. Was there hope she wouldn’t feel such pain anymore, such guilt? When she looked into Scott’s eyes, she almost believed that it could happen. He was so very kind to be concerned for her feelings. Impulsively, she reached up and put a soft hand on his scratchy, stubbled cheek.
“You are so very considerate,” she said. “But you must do what is best for you and for Canaan. I know that Jeremy is trouble. He is not wicked, but he is stubborn and headstrong. But you already know that. If you feel you must send him away, then I will not question your decision. And for the thought and consideration you have given me since your arrival at Canaan, you have been more than fair considering the way you have been treated. For everything… thank you.”
Scott found himself looking into that sweet face, feeling her heated palm against his face and resisting an overwhelming urge to pull the woman into his arms. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears that he was certain she could hear it. But she flashed him a warm smile, dropped her hand, and turned away, heading for the chamber door. Scott watched her go, having trouble breathing because he was so swept up in her gentle touch.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, thinking he sounded husky and breathless.
Avrielle was nearly to the door, coming to a pause. When she looked at him curiously, he pointed to the child still sleeping on the floor. She grinned.
“If he is bothering you, I will take him with me,” she said.
He shook his head. “He is no trouble,” he replied. “But I must dress. My squires will be here shortly and the noise will awaken him.”
Avrielle’s gaze lingered on her son. “If it is not too much to ask, Stephen loves to watch knights as they dress. Would it be too much to ask if he can watch you?”
“It is not too much to ask.”
Avrielle’s smile warmed his heart. Scott was actually feeling a little faint at the sight of it, such a beautiful gesture from a beautiful woman. But she turned away once more and quit the chamber, leaving him standing there and trying to catch his breath. He was feeling a little foolish, but it was one of the most wonderful feelings he’d experienced in a long while and he’d realized that the creature that had been trying to claw its way out of him had finally accomplished its task. He was feeling emotion and liking it. He’d forgotten that giddiness like that still existed.
Fighting off a grin, he went about preparing for the coming day.
As Avrielle quietly closed Scott’s door and moved swiftly and silently back to her chamber, she caught the attention of a few du Rennic soldiers, who were up in one of the towers and happened to see her leaving de Wolfe’s chamber. Being that it was at dawn, and she was moving quickly and silently from de Wolfe’s room, there was only one conclusion they could come to.
Within an hour, whispers of Lady du Rennic spending the night in de Wolfe’s chamber were running rampant throughout Canaan.