EPILOGUE
Year of Our Lord 1223 A.D., December
Thunderbey Castle, seat of the Earls of East Anglia
“Thieves! Ruffians! I am under attack!”
The cry came from an old man, lying in his bed, as three young boys leapt onto the mattress and banged on him with wooden swords. They had found the swords where their mother had hidden them. She was usually very good at hiding them, but they were sneaky – sometimes, they even spied on her. If she discovered that they had, she would spank them unless their father came to their rescue. But Papa wouldn’t go against Mama so, often times, they had to endure the spanking.
Still, the contraband swords were fun while they lasted.
“Wicked bandits!” the old man cried as the eldest boy, six-year-old Tobin, smacked him with the flat part of the sword. “Fiends!”
He grabbed the oldest boy with the auburn hair, who screamed with both delight and anger when his grandfather began to tickle him mercilessly. His cries brought his two younger brothers, five-year-old Beckett and three-year-old Callen, to his rescue. The du Reims siblings defended each other to the death, even against a grandfather who liked to tickle with old, bony fingers.
The bed was a sea of rolling, fighting, screaming children and one laughing grandfather when Dashiell walked in. He’d heard the yelling when he’d entered the keep and now he stood in the doorway, chuckling at what he saw, until his father noticed him.
“You are the father of these monsters,” he accused. “How can you live with yourself?”
Dashiell leaned against the doorjamb, folding his big arms across his chest. “It is simple,” he said. “They take out their aggressions on you. And do not act as if you hate it. You would die of misery if my children did not pummel you daily.”
Talus opened his mouth to reply, but a flying tackle from little Callen cut him off. The child had hit him right in the gut and he grunted as air escaped his lungs. Wrapping the boy up in a big hug, he kissed the blond head, listening to the child scream unhappily. It was like music to his ears.
“These are my fondest days,” Talus said as he released the struggling child. “These three remind me so much of you and your brothers that it is frightening.”
“So you have told me.”
“And I mean it,” he insisted. “I love my granddaughters, of course, but they do not try to kill me like my grandsons do. Ah! It is the best of life!”
Dashiell simply laughed, watching his father as he wrestled with the boys. Talus had been ill this past year, with poison in his chest that the physics could not remedy. So it was the general consensus that Talus du Reims wasn’t long for this world, and that was why Dashiell let his boys jump on him. His father had such little joy these days and if rough children gave it to him, then Dashiell was happy to comply.
In fact, he’d come home to Thunderbey Castle two years ago at the request of his father, who was just beginning to enter into his health crisis. He wanted his heir home, he’d written, and Dashiell had made the difficult decision to return home. It had been traumatic for Belladonna to leave her sister, and her sister’s children. Since all of the de Vaston and du Reims babies had been born around the same time and had grown up together, it had been like splitting up one large family.
Tobin was a year younger than Merrick de Vaston, and then Beckett had been born, followed by two more sons from Lily and Bentley, until Callen was born. Six boys, all cousins, and all within just a few years of each other had made for a rather madcap household until Dashiell had made the decision to move his family back to Thunderbey Castle where his only daughter had been born about six months after their arrival.
Now, Dashiell and Belladonna and their four children lived with Talus in mighty Thunderbey Castle while Dashiell’s brothers manned two of the outposts for the East Anglia earldom. It was a lovely arrangement that saw Dashiell see his brothers quite often, men he adored, and Belladonna had come to love them also. She was also quite close to their wives. In all, the return to Thunderbey had been a good move, but Dashiell knew that Belladonna missed Ramsbury and her sister.
Which was why he had a surprise for her this Christmas. He’d invited Bentley and Lily to spend the Christmas season with them at Thunderbey. Even now, the Duke of Savernake and his family were heading to the wilds of Suffolk for a holiday celebration. It had been difficult for him to keep the surprise, but he wanted to see Belladonna’s face when she saw her sister for the first time in two years.
It would be his Christmas present to her and he didn’t want to spoil it.
But he had to admit that he was more than a little concerned with how his sons would react to seeing their cousins again. Merrick had two younger brothers, Jasper and Ashbourne, whom they called “Ash”, and from what Bentley said, his boys were nearly as out of control as Dashiell’s were. Not exactly out of control, but certainly lively. He hoped his father would have a good Christmas, too, with six wild boys jumping on him instead of just three.
It would certainly make things interesting.
“Dash,” his father said, hugging Callen when the child wrapped his arms around his head and squeezed. “When are Bentley and his wife arriving? Have you told Bella yet?”
Dashiell put a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, looking out into the stairwell landing behind him to ensure his wife was nowhere to be seen.
“She does not know,” he whispered loudly. “And you will not tell her and then pretend you are too ill to listen when I come to scold you.”
Talus was being smothered by his grandsons as he tried to have a conversation with his son. “I will not tell her,” he insisted. “I was simply asking.”
“Do not ask,” Dashiell said. “She will hear you. You know she hears everything.”
“What do I hear?”
Belladonna was coming up the stairs behind Dashiell, carrying their toddler daughter on her hip. Little Rosalyn du Reims was the exact image of her father with auburn hair and eyes so blue they were nearly lavender. Dashiell reached out to take his beautiful daughter from her as she came to the top of the stairs.
“Everything,” Dashiell answered her as he kissed his daughter’s head. “You hear everything.”
Belladonna cocked an eyebrow at him before peering into the chamber. “And I could hear the yelling going on up here down in my solar,” she said. “I came to see what the fuss is about, but now I know. I wonder where my boys found their swords.”
It was a question for Dashiell, who cleared his throat rather guiltily, but it was Tobin who answered.
“Bull wanted us to fight him!” he insisted, pointing the wooden sword at his grandfather. “He says it will make him well again!”
Bull is what they called Talus, because when Tobin had been very young, he’d heard men address his grandfather as “Earl”. Somehow, that became “Bull”, and all of the offspring called Talus by that name, including the daughters of Dashiell’s brothers. The name Bull had stuck, and Talus was quite proud of it.
But Belladonna shook her head to her son’s assertion. “I seriously doubt jumping on the man and hitting him with your swords will make him well again,” she said as she entered the chamber and held out her hand. “Give them to me, Tobin. Now.”
Tobin’s face fell as he looked at his father, who nodded his head. With a huge frown, Tobin handed over his sword, took Beckett’s and handed that one over, but when it came to Callen, the lad had no intention of turning over his sword. He scampered off the mattress and hid under the bed.
“Callen du Reims,” Belladonna said. “If you do not come out from underneath that bed, there shall be no sweets for you at sup. Do you understand?”
Callen began to cry and because Callen was crying, Talus leapt to his grandson’s defense. “Please, my lady,” he begged. “He is just a little boy. His sword makes him happy. You cannot take it from him.”
Belladonna had a difficult time refusing Talus. He was a sweet man who reminded her very much of her husband. She went to him and kissed him on the head.
“I can and I will,” she said. “All armies must have discipline, and this army is no different. If I do not have discipline with my boys, then I have lost control. Would you agree with that?”
Talus wasn’t beyond bargaining with her on behalf of his beloved grandsons. “I would,” he said. “But surely there is a compromise to be found. If I tell you a very special secret, will you agree to let them play with their swords for a little while longer?”
Dashiell heard his father. “Papa, don’t you dare.”
Talus ignored him. “Well? Your husband has a very big secret he has been withholding from you. I will tell you if you agree to let the boys keep their swords.”
Belladonna looked at her husband. “A secret?” she frowned. “What have you been keeping from me, Dashiell?”
It was rare when she called him by his full name and Dashiell looked at his father with great irritation. “See?” he said. “Now you have made her angry with me.”
Talus snorted at his son. “That is no concern of mine,” he said, returning his focus to Belladonna. “Well? Do we have a bargain?”
Belladonna eyed the old man, trying to see if he was bluffing, but since Dashiell seemed irritated, she wisely presumed he wasn’t. She handed the swords back to Tobin, who was thrilled.
“Now,” she said, folding her arms expectantly. “Tell me.”
With a very sly smile, he lifted up the linens on his bed. “Lads,” he said. “Get in, quickly, so your mother may not get to you.”
There was a good deal of squealing as Tobin, Beckett, and Callen dove beneath the bed linens, giggling and squirming all the way. When they were safely out of their mother’s range, Talus simply lifted his shoulders.
“It seems I have forgotten,” he said, pulling the coverlet over his head. “Mutiny! Rebellion! Do not give in to her, lads!”
The bed was alive with squealing, frolicking children and one crafty old man. Belladonna fought off a grin as she turned to her husband.
“I have been fooled,” she declared. “My wrath will be severe when they least expect it.”
She said it rather loudly so the naughty boys on the bed could hear. But Talus was trying to make a tent out of the swords and the coverlet, ignoring her completely, so she simply shook her head and turned away.
“Never bargain with a sick old man,” Dashiell told her. “He has nothing to lose because he knows you will not punish him.”
Belladonna shrugged. “Now you tell me,” she said. Then, she eyed him. “What is this secret you did not want him to tell me.”
Dashiell grinned. With his daughter in one arm, he put his free arm around Belladonna, pulling her close. Bending down, he slanted his lips over hers for a gentle kiss. But with her, any kiss was immediate arousal. He kissed her again, longer and firmer this time, but she put her hand up, her fingers on his lips.
“You shall not use kisses to have your way,” she murmured, a twinkle in her eye. “Tell me the secret or no more kisses for the rest of the day.”
He looked wounded. “You would do that to me?”
“I would.”
“You are a cruel woman.”
“Aye, I am.”
He grinned. “But I like you this way,” he said. “As for the secret, I was saving it for the Christmas holiday. Would you truly have me tell you now? It is supposed to be a gift.”
Belladonna cocked her head. “If it is a gift, then you do not have to tell me.”
His smile broadened. “It will be the best gift you have ever received.”
She gazed into his eyes, into that face she knew and loved so well. The past eight years had been the best years of her life, married to a man she adored more with every breath she took. The wise, patient, and loving husband was also a wise, patient, and loving father, and Belladonna loved to watch him with their children. In many ways, he reminded her of her own father, and how kind and gentle he’d been with his children. She knew she was very fortunate to have had two such wonderful men in her life, men who had shown her the true meaning of family, of devotion, and of love.
She was the most fortunate woman in the world.
“Nay,” she whispered, her eyes glittering at him. “You are the best gift I have ever received. Nothing can compare.”
Even though she’d told him no more kisses, he stole one from her, anyway. “I love you, lamb.”
She smiled. “And I cannot imagine there is anything you could give me that would be any more precious than what I already have.”
Belladonna would maintain that opinion for the rest of her life, although a visit from her sister and Bentley a few days later came close to being nearly the best gift she’d ever received. Christmas that year was full of love and joy, and as Bentley and Lily, and Dashiell and Belladonna watched their children play in the big solar of Thunderbey, it seemed that this moment in time, for all of them, was in the true spirit of the season.
Family. Devotion. And a love that spanned the ages.
It was the stuff legends were made of.
THE END
The children of Dashiell and Belladonna
Tobin
Beckett
Callen
Rosalyn
Chasen
Stellan
Aria
The children of Bentley and Lily
Merrick
Jasper
Ashbourne “Ash”
Elowen
Elyn