THEY CAME OVER a rise and Elia spotted Castle Questing.
Home.
But not for long.
As Ferand urged Midnight on, Elia prepared herself to see her family again. Already, her emotions ran wild after their visit with Aaron Wrynne, James’ brother. Ferand had convinced Elia no good would come of sharing what James had done to her and it would bring shame to his family. As they traveled north, they came across James’ still body lying in the road and secured it to his horse, bringing it back to his home for a proper burial.
Aaron broke down when they arrived and he saw James’ horse bearing his master’s body. Ferand explained how they’d been set upon by highwaymen, which also explained their bedraggled appearance. He then told of how they’d discovered James’ body only a league north of where they had been attacked and assumed he’d lost his fight against the same thieves.
Aaron thanked them profusely for their kindness toward his brother. Elia realized he would now inherit what little was left since Aaron was the only Wrynne son who remained. They left him and headed two estates over. Now, they were on de Wolfe lands.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Ferand stopped Midnight and looked across the land and back at the imposing castle. “Most impressive. I can see why you have such a great love for it.”
“But I love you more,” she said, her fingers caressing his jaw.
He stole a quick kiss. “That’s all you get. For now.”
They cantered down the hill and along the road until they reached the gates. Elia called a greeting up to the gatekeeper, who came down and welcomed her personally. He’d always been a great favorite of hers and she was happy to see him in good health.
“Head toward the training yard. ’Tis where Father and Stephen should be,” she said.
Ferand guided Midnight in the direction she indicated. Soon, they heard the clang of sword against sword. He helped her from the horse and Elia raised a hand to her eyes to shield them from the sun as she gazed across the yard. She spied her father and called to him. He rushed toward her, joined by Stephen.
Both men embraced her, shock written on their faces.
“What are you doing here, Elia?” her father asked. “You should be in London.” He glanced to Ferand, who stepped forward.
“Ferand de Montfort, my lord. Earl of Kinwick. My estate lies three days to the southwest of London.”
“Ah,” said Markus. “You must be my daughter’s new husband. I must thank the queen.”
“That won’t be necessary, Father,” Elia quickly interjected. “Queen Isabella has gone into her confinement. She has other things to think about. But we aren’t wed yet.”
“You aren’t?” Stephen asked, assessing Ferand as only an older brother could.
“Nay,” Ferand confirmed. “Elia wished to wed in front of those she loved. She insisted we come to Northumberland for the nuptial mass.”
“I have something I must tell you,” Stephen blurted out. He glanced toward Markus, who nodded. “I am married, Elia.”
She did her best to look surprised. “Why, ’tis marvelous, Stephen. Who is your bride? When did you wed?”
“You know her. Lady Audrey Wilde. ’Twas two summers ago we spoke our vows.”
Elia didn’t hide her hurt. It felt as fresh as when James Wrynne had given her the same news.
“Why did you not write to me of this good news?” she asked, her voice breaking.
Her brother looked to their father. “Go,” Markus said. “Let the women know.”
Stephen gave her an apologetic look and fled.
“Come,” Markus invited. “We can talk as we make our way to the keep.”
Ferand laced his fingers through hers and squeezed reassuringly. Elia drew strength from his support.
As they fell into step, Markus said, “I, too, am married. A widow. You might remember Kateryn Howard.”
She had a vague image of a woman who lived a few estates away from them.
“We married a year ago,” Markus continued. “She carries my child.”
Elia stopped in her tracks, frustration boiling over. “Why? Why wasn’t I told of these events, Father? Why did you hide them from me?”
As he struggled to find the words, she saw how he had aged since she’d last seen him. New lines of worry had been etched into his face. His dark hair had more silver threaded through it.
“Because of a promise I made to your mother,” he finally said.
“Mother?” Elia barely recalled her mother. “She died when I was five. What promise would she have extracted from you that would keep such secrets from me so many years later? I do not understand.”
Markus took her free hand. Ferand released the other so she could face her father.
“Your mother hated war. Hated everything about it. She bemoaned that she’d given birth to two sons, fearing she would lose them both in battle against the Scots. She wanted you to live a different kind of life than she had.” He paused. “On her deathbed, just before she birthed Anne, she made me promise to give you in marriage to someone not of the north. She thought this war with Scotland would drag on for decades.
“And I swore to her that I would. ’Tis why I sent you to the queen.”
Elia frowned. “But that doesn’t explain why you would keep the news of Stephen’s marriage—and yours—from me.”
Markus smoothed her hair. “You were always the fieriest de Wolfe, Elia. Your grandfather joked that you should have been born a man for you would have been a leader among men. You were always so proud of your de Wolfe heritage and how our family anchored the north.”
He sighed. “I knew to keep my promise to your mother that I had to somehow sever the strong ties you felt to Castle Questing. I wanted to send you away to foster long before I did.”
“But Grandfather wouldn’t let you, would he?” Elia ventured, thinking how close she’d been to him.
“Aye. Nighthawk favored you among his grandchildren. I had to promise him that I would allow you to remain at Castle Questing until he passed. Once he did, it was time to send you on your way. I wanted you to fall in love with life at the royal court. You always enjoyed learning and I believed you would have opportunities there that didn’t exist here for you.”
Markus paused. “But your missives to me only told me how you longed to come home. I feared if you learned about Stephen’s betrothal, you would insist on returning.” He raised her hand to his chest. “I wanted to keep my promise and make sure you left the north for good.” He raised her hand and pressed a kiss to it.
Elia tried to take in everything he’d shared.
Her father smiled. “One thing your grandfather said about you leaving the de Wolfes of the north? That you would give birth to children—both sons and daughters—who would be just as strong and courageous as you are. Nighthawk said that thanks to Elia de Wolfe, de Wolfes would rise in the south. The east. The west. They would become the foundation of all the great families in England.”
Markus placed his hands on her shoulders. “You need to fly from the nest, my little bird. Spread your wings and soar with this man you’ve brought. Wed him and raise your children well.”
He embraced her. Tears cascaded down Elia’s cheeks, though this time they were happy ones.
Markus released her and turned to Ferand. “Would you like to marry my daughter in the morning, Lord Ferand?”
Ferand smiled broadly. “I would wed her today, my lord, if I could.”
An hour later, Elia had returned the slim band she’d worn and faced Ferand in a clean but too-large smock and kirtle she’d borrowed from her sister-in-law. They repeated the vows the priest intoned and Ferand slid the same wedding band on her finger—this time, for real. They sealed their words with a lingering kiss which she felt down to her very toes.
As they came out of the church and entered the great hall to celebrate their marriage, Elia said, “I’m only sorry my trunk did not arrive in time. I am vain enough to admit that I would have liked to been married in something that fit me a little better.”
Ferand’s eyes lit with mischief. “Speaking of your trunk . . .” he began.
“Where is my trunk, Ferand?”
He shrugged. “I would imagine somewhere inside the keep at Kinwick by now. Hopefully, inside my solar,” he added, not bothering to hide his smile.
She pursed her lips. “You were that sure of yourself?”
His hands encircled her waist. “I was sure that I could find no better woman than you, my love. I only hoped you would agree to the match by the end of our journey. You did agree you were in my debt—and that a price would be paid.”
Elia cupped his face with her hands. “And what if I had wanted to stay in Northumberland?”
“Then I supposed when I reached Kinwick, heartbroken, I would’ve had Gilbert and a soldier or two set out north with it.” Ferand chuckled. “Gilbert has quite an imagination. I’m sure by the time the lad reached Castle Questing, he would have concocted a most interesting tale as to why it had taken so long for your trunk to arrive.
“But it’s nicer that you fell in love with me instead.”
“Ferand, I am more than glad that I fell in love with you. I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”
With that, their lips met in a searing kiss—one of thousands that they would share.