Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)

Ghislaine was focused on her food as well, hearing the soft laughter of the knights down the table and wondering what they were laughing about. Glancing at them, she could see their camaraderie, the warmth in their expressions when they looked at each other. She wondered what it was like to know such companionship, for it was something she’d never experienced.

Certainly, she had men she commanded and family around her, but she’d lived a rather lonely life as the youngest child of a powerful family. Both of her parents were dead and her siblings had lives and families of their own. Hakon had been the one she’d been closest to and his death had not only left a hole in her heart, but it had left her with mind-numbing loneliness. She was alone, unwanted, and unloved. Listening to the knights down the table as they laughed and conversed, she wondered if she would ever know companionship like that.

To belong.

“I have not felt like fighting for my brother since my husband’s death,” she said quietly. “When Edwin left for the north, I did not want to go with him.”

Gunnora’s mouth was full of pork. “Yet you went with Alary to fight off the Normans?”

Ghislaine looked at her queerly. “Who said anything about fighting with Alary?”

“Because he was here only yesterday. He said he had fought with Harold but he did not have Normans with him like you do. Are you sure they are not forcing you to accompany them?”

So Alary had been at Westerham. Ghislaine didn’t know why she was shocked to hear that. Since Westerham was an ally, certainly he would have stopped for the night for lodgings. It would have been completely normal and expected.

He did not have Normans with him like you do.

That statement concerned her greatly.

“I told you that they are not,” Ghislaine said casually. She didn’t want to tip Gunnora off about the real situation between Alary and the Normans that were, even now, in Gunnora’s hall. “Alary would make a terrible ally to the Normans and you know that, so he left the field of battle before I did. But… but you did not see a Norman knight with him?”

Gunnora cocked her head thoughtfully. “I did not, but his men did not come into the hall,” she said. “In fact, they feasted in the bailey and left in the morning. Alary did not seem to want to be sociable. Why do you ask?”

Because he has a Norman captive, Ghislaine thought. Alary knew, as Ghislaine knew, that Gunnora couldn’t keep her mouth shut about such a thing so he had kept his prisoner hidden. Rumors of a Norman captive would, in fact, possibly reach the Normans. Now, Ghislaine was starting to understand that Alary was being very careful with his prisoner and she knew that Gaetan would want to know that Alary was only a day ahead of them. In fact, she was very eager to tell him.

“That is typical of Alary,” Ghislaine said casually as she turned back to her food, although her attention was really on Gaetan, down at the end of the table. “He was never very social, at least not with women. Had your father been here, he more than likely would have supped in the hall.”

Gunnora shrugged. “Mayhap,” she said. “He did say he was returning home.”

“That is where we are going, also.”

Gunnora lifted her head, puzzled. “Then why did he not wait for you?”

Ghislaine simply shrugged and turned back to her food. In hindsight, she should have given the woman an answer because, in Gunnora’s mind, perhaps Alary would have waited had he known his sister and a contingent of Normans were only a day behind him. She opened her mouth to speak but her majordomo was at her side, whispering in her ear, and she excused herself from the table.

Ghislaine continued to eat, rather glad that her hostess had vanished. She didn’t want to talk about Alary anymore because any further conversation might lead to the real reason Ghislaine was accompanying a large Norman army northward. Some might think that was treacherous, and it was true that Gunnora might as well, so it was best to be off the subject.

Now, all Ghislaine could think about was the fact that Alary was only a day ahead of them. Gaetan had to know but the more Ghislaine watched him with his men, the more she was hesitant to interrupt him.

“My brother was here yesterday,” she said to Jathan, sitting across from her. “I must tell Gaetan.”

Jathan had eaten so much pork that he was close to bursting with it but, much like Ghislaine, he’d not eaten much over the past several days. Still, he wouldn’t stop eating and pushed another piece of pork into his mouth. His gaze moved down the table to the men he’d known for years.

“I heard,” he said, shrugging when she looked curiously at him. “Our hostess’ voice carries. I heard what she said.”

“Then Gaetan must know.”

Jathan sighed, cutting another piece of pork with his knife. “I know you must tell him, and I do agree, but this is the first time in weeks I have seen these men relax,” he said. “Let them enjoy a little more of this peaceful time before telling them what you know. Once you do, it will keep them up all night as they plan tomorrow’s travel to catch up to your brother. So for now… just wait. At least give them the night to enjoy and then you can tell them in the morning.”

Ghislaine could see that he was concerned for the knights and their state of mind. Men like this had little time to relax and those moments were precious. He was right; there wasn’t anything they could do about it tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She returned to her food.

“They look as if they do not have a care in the world,” she said.

Jathan chewed loudly. “Thoughts of Kristoph are not far from their minds, I assure you. They miss him.”

Ghislaine had a perfect view of Gaetan from where she sat and she watched the man, greedily drinking in his male beauty. “One would not know that by looking at them.”

Jathan’s attention moved to her, his expression something between thoughtfulness and genuine concern. “I will tell you something of these men so that you understand them, my lady,” he said quietly. “You will understand why they are so determined to regain their comrade and why moments like this, when they are relatively carefree, are more valuable than gold. Do you see de Wolfe? He is the man they call Warwolfe, the greatest knight in the Duke of Normandy’s arsenal.”

Ghislaine cocked her head curiously. “Warwolfe?” she repeated, still looking at Gaetan. “An intimidating name. Yet… it suits him.”

Jathan drank deeply of his mead. “Aye, it does,” he said. “The man is immortal and I have seen him in enough battles to know. And these men that are sworn to him, they are all great knights in their own right, men who have fought together for many years. They have seen much of life and death together, and Warwolfe is the man that binds them all together. The Duke of Normandy calls these knights his Anges de Guerre.”

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