Page 42 of Wolfehound
“See that you don’t,” Ronec muttered. “Godspeed, lad.”
Tyrus nodded once and pulled the panel open, heading out into the cold, misty complex of Westminster. Ronec shut the door behind him and bolted it, pausing a moment to think on the mission that had been laid out before him.
Bring her to me.
If Gwenllian of Wales really was somewhere other than Sempringham Priory, Ronec knew that Tyrus would find her.
Something told him that the situation was about to get very, very ugly.
CHAPTER NINE
Folkingham Castle
Three Months Later
The time hadcome.
Never mind the time. The year, the week, the day had come, and he was over the moon about it. Liam had been pushing a swift pace all the way from Bamburgh Castle, where his family lived. Fortunately, the weather had been good and the roads in decent condition, so travel had been pleasant. He had half of his family with him, father and mother included.
It made quite a brigade.
Since Liam was the eldest and the heir, his marriage to a woman he’d been betrothed to for twenty years was quite an event. Off to Liam’s left, riding a black-and-white charger effortlessly, was the brother closest in age to him, Kyle Herringthorpe. Kyle was a big lad with blond hair and hazel eyes, a man who adored his eldest brother. The brother next in age, Taggart, had been left behind at Bamburgh because Liam’s father had wanted at least two of his sons left behind in command. The Scots weren’t completely settled these days, sohe wanted seasoned knights in case anything went wrong. Tag, along with brother Brody, understood.
Liam had more brothers, six in total, but the only brothers with him were Kyle and Logan. Sisters Jane and Mary were already married and in the South of England with their husbands, while the two youngest brothers, Mac and Edmund, were fostering at Warwick Castle.
It was, therefore, mostly a family affair as the House of Herringthorpe headed toward Folkingham Castle along with about a hundred soldiers. Bamburgh was a royal outpost and War Herringthorpe, Liam’s father, had been the garrison commander for many years. Therefore, the troops he kept there were mostly royal troops, though he did have some of his own. Out of a thousand-man army at Bamburgh, about a quarter of them belonged to War, personally, because the majority of his men went with Liam when he assumed the garrison at Easington Castle, northwest of Bamburgh.
Easington Castle actually belonged to War, gifted to him by the king for exemplary service, and he was quite proud of the large, squat castle that looked like a crouching lion upon the moors of the north. When War had acquired the castle, it came with five rather anemic villages and herds of sheep. The former lord had been ill for many years before dying, so the land was greatly in need of help. Liam was more than willing to give it, and in the few years he’d been commander, the villages were thriving and the sheep population had nearly doubled.
As it turned out, Liam had a good head for business, but business was the last thing he was thinking about as Folkingham came into view. He was thinking about that beautiful jewel of a woman he was about to take as his wife, something he’d been greatly anticipating for the past six years. Six long, frustrating years. The last time they’d spoken about it was when Cambria was fourteen years of age and Carlton had hinted at only fourmore years, but in the end, he’d been reluctant to surrender his only child. At six years, it was War who finally made the demand of marriage—or there would be a problem. Reluctantly, Carlton gave consent, and within the week, Liam and his parents were heading to Folkingham.
Riding beside him, he could hear his father chuckle.
“What?” Liam looked at him. “Why are you laughing?”
Warwick Herringthorpe, who went by the name War and had all of his life, was grinning at his son. “You,” he said. “You’re like a stallion champing at the bit, eager to get to the female.”
Liam made a face. “Bloody hell, Papa,” he said. “You do not say that in front of Mama, do you?”
War snorted again, this time louder. “She says it to me,” he said. “Your mother is not naïve, Liam. She knows why you are pushing this swift pace. So does the entire escort, your brothers included.”
Liam’s face was still puckered with displeasure as he glanced over his shoulder at the contingent of men and the small, fortified wagon that carried his mother. “I am not eager to get to her simply to bed her,” he whispered loudly. “You’ve only met her once, Papa. She was a girl then. When you meet her today, you’ll see the woman she’s become. She’s magnificent.”
War grinned at his son, the adoring way he spoke of his betrothed. He didn’t quite believe him about not simply wanting to bed the woman because he’d waited so damn long, but didn’t argue with him.
“I tried to make it to Folkingham on more than one occasion,” he said. “In my defense, I was simply too busy. I know that is a weak excuse, but I will see her again today and embrace her like a daughter. For certain, any woman who has you so entranced is worthy of such attention.”
Liam’s gaze was on the castle in the distance, rising from the landscape around it as a silent testament to its power, itslongevity. But all he could see was a certain young woman in those old walls.
“I met her when she was not even one year of age,” he said wistfully. “I remember thinking that she was just a stinky baby. I had no use for her, or any baby, at that age. But she kept looking at me with these eyes that are bluer than any eyes I’ve ever seen, and I think even back then I knew she was special. But only in the sense that I knew who she was and I respected the fact that she was the last of her line.”
War was listening, his eyes crinkling with humor. “Her line will become our line,” he said. “Imagine my son, married to a Welsh princess.”
“We are not supposed to speak of it.”
War waved him off. “I know,” he said. “But there is no one around to hear us.”
“Do Kyle and Logan know?”
