Dark Destroyer (24 page)

Kathalin was looking up at him, smiling broadly. She had, indeed, realized that he agreed to marry her, or at least he was thinking on it. That was all she could ask for. Having no tact or sense of restraint when it came to emotions, and most especially when it came to Gates, she didn’t move for the jewelry boxes as he’d commanded. She was still standing there, gazing up at him and feeling that warmth that she had come to associate with him. It was warmer, and stronger, than ever before.

She had to tell him what was in her heart. There was no stopping it.

“De Wolfe,” she said softly. “
Gates.
If you were the man my parents chose for my husband, I would not want to return to St. Milburga’s. I think I would like being married to you.”

He just looked at her, shock rippling through his veins. He’d heard words like that before, in many variations from many women, but never in his life had they actually meant something to him. In fact, he could feel a distinct sense of joy; was it possible that she actually had feelings towards him? Dear God, he knew very well he had feelings for her. Nay… more than feelings… something deep and powerful and fluid. But hearing her softly uttered words gave him such hope and joy that it was all surging through his body at an alarming rate, causing his limbs to tingle and his palms to sweat. He’d never experienced anything like it.

But on the heels of such joy came the cold dousing of reality. Jasper would never agree to a marriage between them and he knew it. Jasper wanted a man with a noble reputation, a man who didn’t have bastards all about England, and man who would bring joy and honor to Kathalin. Gates couldn’t do that. He’d lived a life free to do as he pleased, free to bed whom he pleased, and that was the way he’d wanted it. At least, until now.

Now, Gates was quite sure he would only bring Kathalin shame if he married her and, as much as it killed him, he had to accept that he could, in no way, become her husband. He would never knowingly shame the woman. He adored her… aye, he did. He adored everything about her.

Never in his life had Gates known his heart to break.

Until now.

God, this hurts!

“I… I am flattered,” he said hoarsely, wanting very badly to take her in his arms but dared not do it. “You honor me greatly, Lady Kathalin. You will never know how greatly it pains me to explain to you that I shall never marry. I am not the marrying kind. But I thank you for your kind words. I shall cherish them, always.”

Slapped.
That is what Kathalin felt like. She felt as if he’d reached out and slapped her across the face. Ashamed, she lowered her head, feeling her cheeks pinken and feeling her chest tighten up with shame and disappointment. Nay, it was more than that – it was sorrow. She had opened herself up to him, told him what was in her heart, and he had refused her.

Dear God… such shame…..

“Then… then I shall have to return to St. Milburga’s,” she said, trying desperately to grasp the light mood that had been there only moments earlier. “I was not serious about marriage to you, de Wolfe. I was only jesting. I have only always wanted to return to St. Milburga’s and you know that. Now, let me look at the jewelry again. I... I do believe I want the pearls.”

She moved away from him, back to the boxes of necklaces, and Gates let her go. He could tell from her expression that she had, indeed, been serious about marriage and he’d shut her down, hurting her. He wouldn’t have knowingly hurt her for the world but in this case, he had no choice.

When he had wanted to declare his desire to marry her as well, he’d had no choice but to deny her. It was for her own good, he told himself. It would be no life at all for her to be married to a man who would only bring her shame. A man who would change his spots for her, become a devoted husband only unto her, but a man who would never be able to escape his past. A man who would never be worthy of an honorable wife.

For the first time in his life, he was deeply sorry for a reputation he’d never given a second thought to. God, it was killing him. As he stood there and watched her finger the necklaces in the box, he saw her bring a hand up to her face, twice. His heart sank when he realized why.

Tears.

Linley Manor

6 miles east of Hyssington

“I
knew
it was de Wolfe!” Linley screamed. “I knew it was him!”

In the only habitable room of Linley Manor, the great hall that had known grander days, the big, heavy-set drunkard known as Lord Linley was in a rage. His daughter, weeping, had finally confessed the father of her six-month-old son and, devastated, told her father that the knight refused to marry her. Now, Linley was in a rage and there was no way to stop it.

“Papa, please,” Helene wept. “I do not need your anger. I need your help. Will you not help me?”

Linley, who had been stumbling around the room in his rage, came to a halt and threw up his hands. “What is it you expect me to do?” he nearly screamed at her. “If the man refused to marry you, all I can do is kill him! I will challenge him and I will kill him! It is a matter of family honor now!”

Helene shook her head. “Papa,
no
,” she insisted. “He is a knight, one of the most powerful on the Marches. He will kill you!”

Linley was inflamed by what he considered slander against his skill and, in a rage, he rushed at his daughter and slapped her several times across the face as she screamed. In her struggle to get away from him, she ended up falling backwards over her chair, ending up on the dirty floor and crawling away.

“Silence your foolish mouth, girl!” Linley said, trying to kick her as she crawled away. “When you named your son Wolfe I should have known. You told me it was because you liked the name but I knew better. I knew Gates de Wolfe had somehow managed to steal your innocence but now that you have confirmed it to me, I will kill the man, I swear it!”

Sobbing, Helene was over by the wall, huddled in a fearful ball. “Mayhap you will not have to kill him if you can convince him to do the honorable thing and marry me,” she said, wiping the mucus from her nose with the back of her hand. “Mayhap he will change his mind if you ask.”

“You already said he refused!”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes, hoping he didn’t charge her again and try to slap her. “He did,” she said, sniffling. “But… but should you approach his liege, mayhap it would be different. De Lara can command Gates into marriage or punish him!”

Linley pondered that a moment, coming to an unsteady halt. He was weaving unsteadily, the result of drinking cheap ale that had been made from grain with mold on it. It had a tendency to make him see things that weren’t there and give him horrible nightmares. But when one was dependent upon drink, one was not too particular where one got it from.

“Mayhap,” Linley agreed, scratching at his louse-ridden head. “I will see de Lara, then, and demand he force de Wolfe to marry you. It is the only honorable thing to do and surely de Lara will not stand for a dishonorable knight in his service, especially when I tell all who will listen how disgraceful de Wolfe is. Imagine the man seducing my vulnerable daughter. I will not have it, I say!”

Helene remained huddled against the wall, listening to her father rant, hoping for two things - that Gates would, when challenged, kill her father and that afterwards, he would feel so terrible about it that he would agree to marry her. Aye, those two things were her wish because, for certain, living with a father such as Huw Linley was worse than a death sentence. He’d sold everything of value from the manor to support his drinking habit and any money that came up after that was also used for drink. He bargained with local brewers, trading them servants and livestock for stores of cheap and toxic ale, and sometimes the ale was so poisoned by bad grain that he saw his daughter as a demon and tried to beat her. Once he even tried to throw her in the fire.

Aye, living with the man was hell, which was why marriage to a knight had held out such hope for Helene. In her view, there was still hope now that her father intended to challenge de Wolfe. Perhaps Gates would not want to fight the old man, believing it a dishonorable thing to do, and simply give in. It was among the many hopes that Helene had at the moment.

The last hope that her son would indeed have his father.

The last hope that she would know a better life than this with the only man who had ever been kind to her.

With the pearl necklace, the amethyst necklace, a gold necklace adorned with crimson stones, and a bejeweled hair piece of emeralds packed safely away in a locked box that they had purchased from the jeweler along with the jewelry, Gates and Kathalin emerged from the stall to find Alexander and the men waiting for them. It seemed that Alexander had found an establishment on the Street of the Bakers that produced little pies with chicken and gravy, something that had smelled decadently delicious, so the group had proceeded across the avenue to the Street of the Bakers to partake.

The smells of baking bread and roasting meat were coming fast and heavy as they entered the street but Kathalin wasn’t much interested in it. She was not very hungry, in fact, since Gates had turned down her marriage proposal. Well, it wasn’t exactly a proposal but certainly he’d discounted her offer. She’d never known such disappointment in her life, and heartache, for at St. Milburga’s she had been insulated against such things. Now, she wanted to go back more than ever. She didn’t even want to look at Gates de Wolfe any longer.

She wanted to go home.

Oblivious to what had happened in the jeweler’s stall between Kathalin and Gates, Alexander was his usual congenial self. He had reserved an area between stalls on the Street of the Bakers with upturned logs and a few benches where patrons could sit whilst eating their food. Normally, it was a pleasant place to eat but with the melting snow, it was a bit of a swamp. Still, Gates gathered his men there as Alexander and a few of his soldiers went to purchase food for a midday meal.

But there was brooding silence all around after he departed. It wasn’t difficult to notice that Kathalin had fallen silent since their visit to the jewelers. She sat on one of the wooden benches, wrapped up in her blue and fox fur cloak, staring at her hands for the most part. Gates, who had been acutely aware of her silence all along, couldn’t get more than one or two word answers out of her. It didn’t take a great intellect to realize that she’d become this way after he’d turned down her suggestion of marriage and her shift in mood told him, increasingly, how serious she had been.

His heart, so hardened against women, wasn’t hardened against her. The more she ignored him, the worse the tightening in his chest became. He very much wanted to explain the reasons behind his answer to her but he was afraid if he did, it would open him up to a confession he didn’t want to make to her. A confession that would have him telling her what a terrible man he’d been at times, deflowering virgins and running from responsibility. Nay, he didn’t want to tell her that at all. Of all people in the world, he wanted her to think of him as a strong and upstanding man, with no vices and of great moral character. He didn’t want her to know of the Dark Destroyer, the destroyer of women’s hearts.

He only wanted her to know Gates de Wolfe, the man she’d known kindness from.

That was the only legacy he wanted with her.

…
could
have with her.

So he kept his mouth shut, not speaking to her as they waited until Alexander finally returned with enough food for, literally, an army. He had more than two dozen small pies with dark brown crusts and a filling of chicken and gravy, or filled with mutton and carrots. There was also fresh bread and almond pudding in dried-out gourds, but before the men could jump at them, Gates gave Kathalin her choice and she selected, without enthusiasm, a chicken pie. That was all. Once she took it for herself, the men dove in and it was a feasting frenzy beneath the cold, clear afternoon sky.

“Is the plan still to remain here tonight?” Alexander asked as he walked up to Gates, shoving pie into his mouth. “There is a festival going on later today, you know. It should go all night.”

Gates was eating his own pie. “What festival?”

Alexander, chewing, pointed off to the square where the big cathedral was. “Some kind of pagan celebration local to the town,” he said. “Something about a sheep queen or a snow queen. I do not recall what I was told. In any case, they will have fires and food and dancing, so I am told. It might be fun to attend. There will be women there, after all.”

Gates looked at the man. “In case you haven’t realized it, we are guarding a woman right now,” he said. “I will not go off and leave her unattended.”

Alexander’s gaze lingered on Kathalin’s lowered head. “I did not mean to leave her unattended,” he said. “She may like to attend.”

“Having come from a convent where festivities like that were not allowed? I doubt it.”

Alexander could see his point. He continued to watch Kathalin as she picked at her pie. “I heard that Jasper and Lady de Lara intend to throw a party for her in honor of her return home,” he said. “My parents have been invited, in fact. By next week, we should have families here from all over the Marches to welcome Lady Kathalin home.”

Gates simply nodded, taking another bite of his pie, unaware that Alexander was watching her closely. “She is a beautiful woman,” he continued. “Rumor has it that de Lara is looking for a husband for her. Have you heard that, also?”

Gates heard something in Alexander’s voice, something he didn’t like. If he hadn’t known better, there was a hint of interest there but he remained wisely silent even though what he really wanted to do was throttle the man. Jealousy, something he wasn’t used to in the least, began rearing its ugly head again.

“What de Lara does with his daughter is no concern of yours or mine,” he said. “I would suggest you not speak of the man’s daughter in front of him, in fact. That would be an excellent way to garner his wrath.”

Alexander looked at him. “Why?”

Gates lifted his eyebrows to emphasize his point. “If she was your daughter, would you not be protective over her from hot-blooded knights?”

Alexander conceded the point. “Mayhap,” he said. “He should not worry over us, however. We are sworn to him and to the family. We would not take advantage of that trust.”

Gates didn’t say anything for a moment; he was starting to feel sick to his stomach, confused with Alexander’s words.
Is that what I’ve done?
He asked himself.
Have I taken advantage of de Lara’s trust by having affection for his daughter? By getting to know her and letting her get under my skin?
As he wrestled with that terrible thought, Alexander spoke again.

“I will tell you a secret, old man,” he said to Gates, lowering his voice. “My parents have been harassing me to marry. No sooner had I arrived home then they were demanding to know when I intended to wed. If de Lara is truly looking for a husband for his daughter, and my parents know it, I have a feeling they will try to press my suit. I cannot say that the thought disturbs me because it does not. She is an exquisite creature. She would make a fine wife upon my arm.”

Gates’ jaw ticked faintly, increasingly disturbed by Alexander’s prattle. More than that, he was greatly disturbed by the subject – was it possible that, of all men, Alexander would actually be pledged to Kathalin? God’s Bones, the mere thought made him ill. He tossed the rest of his pie to the ground, unable to finish. His bitterness in Alexander’s interest in Kathalin began to come out.

“De Lara will not want you for her for the same reason he will not want me,” he said in an attempt to curb Alexander’s interest. “You have been known to bed a woman or two, much as I have, and you have a history of romantic conquest. De Lara knows this.”

Alexander looked at his friend, wondering why the man sounded so cynical. “That may be,” he said, “but my legend isn’t nearly as bad as yours is. Moreover, most young men our age have some manner of reputation with women. They would be odd if they didn’t.”

Gates didn’t want to speak with Alexander any longer. He was afraid he might say something nasty if he did, jealous as he was. He simply couldn’t control it. Without a word, he left Alexander and went to where Kathalin was sitting. Now, his focus became her, swiftly forgetting about Alexander. He stood next to her and cleared his throat softly.

“May I sit, my lady?” he asked politely.