WolfeBite (De Wolfe Pack Generations #10)

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T here was a frog.

Christelle had been gazing at it, and the little pond it sat in, for the better part of two hours. The garden in the corner of the kitchen yard used to be much more of a flower garden decades ago when a de Cottingham ancestor filled it with flowers from a trip to Rome and beyond. Nowadays, there were still flowers, and an enormous, thorned vine that grew over one wall, but it was mostly a home to a small pond where things like frogs and fish thrived.

The frog had already hopped in her direction before heading back again, toward the pond. He reminded Christelle of the story of the frog and the monk, and the frog was so loud that the monk prayed that God would silence it. A silly tale from her childhood that she recalled. She also recalled Georgiana proudly showing her the frogs on her second day at Ashendon.

That recollection further depressed her.

Her turmoil, these days, was great.

Logically, she knew she’d done all she could to save the little girl. But in her heart, she was certain she hadn’t done enough. Even now, the child was in the chamber next to Phillipa’s, lying upon her bed, tightly swaddled in a fine linen shroud that Leonidas had produced from Juliette’s possessions. It was really a shawl, not meant to be a shroud, but it served the purpose.

A very sad purpose.

Talk was that the child was being buried in a couple of days. At least, that was what Christelle had heard Phillipa say to Catherine. Truthfully, Christelle couldn’t bear to be in the keep any longer and couldn’t bear to look at Catherine, seeing the anguish on the young woman’s face and knowing she could have prevented it if she’d only swum faster and harder. If she’d only tried harder. But she didn’t want to keep running in that circular logic, over and over again, so she found herself down in the garden.

Looking at frogs.

Wondering what in the hell she was doing here.

Perhaps she should forget about everything and just go home.

Ah, but that was the problem. She couldn’t go home. Her father had sent her to England on a specific mission, and she couldn’t simply leave. Even now, he was probably waiting for more news from her even though she’d only just sent him word about her movements with Phillipa recently. But her father was greedy. He wanted constant communication, which was difficult considering what she was doing. Over the past few days, she’d realized that she didn’t want to do it any longer.

She just wanted some peace.

“I was hoping to find you here.”

The voice came from behind, and she knew who it was even before she turned to look. Leonidas had entered the garden area, heading in her direction. She was glad to see him, as much as she could be, but it also occurred to her that things like stolen kisses and foolish, giddy feelings really didn’t matter anymore. A young girl had died and she was starting to question her very existence. But she did the polite thing and acknowledged Leonidas.

“I like this place,” she said, returning her focus to the pond. “It is peaceful here.”

He nodded as he looked at the pond, too. She was sitting on the only large bench in the garden, one made out of wood, so he lowered himself onto one end of it.

“I’ve not spent much time here,” he admitted. “Juliette used to bring the children here quite a lot. They liked to watch the fish and play with the frogs.”

“Georgiana showed me the frogs when I first arrived.”

“She considered them her friends.”

The subject of Georgiana came up quickly, and Christelle didn’t reply right away. If she was feeling bad, she could only imagine what Leonidas was going through, as her stepfather. Christelle knew she’d been very selfish about her own feelings on the matter when she should have been thinking about his. When she finally replied, her voice was hardly above a whisper.

“I am so very sorry, Leo,” she said sincerely, closing her eyes and hanging her head. “For Georgiana, I cannot begin to convey how sorry I am that I did not grab her when I could. I close my eyes and I can still see her foot drifting past me. I can still hear her cries when she was just out of my reach. That you have to go through this yet again with another member of your family… I am so deeply sorry.”

He looked over at her, hearing the tears in her voice. Her head was lowered so he couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine her expression. Reaching out, he put an enormous hand on her head in a gesture of comfort.

“I know you are,” he said softly. “And I will say again that you are not to blame. Christy, your actions were heroic. I have never seen a woman so heroic. You have made your family proud, you have made Blackchurch proud, you have—”

She cut him off with a snort. “Blackchurch,” she muttered. “Do you want to know the truth? I am not heroic. I was not even good enough to complete Blackchurch. That is the truth. I failed at an assignment a year before I was to finish and they tossed me out, so I remained in England for that year before going home and telling my father that I had completed the Blackchurch training. But I didn’t. I failed at it like I failed at saving Georgiana. Do not call me heroic, Leo. Please. Don’t ever say that again. There is nothing heroic about me.”

Knowing Christelle like he did, Leonidas knew that must have been an incredibly difficult admission to make. She’d seemed so proud of her Blackchurch training. Truthfully, it didn’t surprise him because he knew men who had failed out of Blackchurch, too. Excellent men. Blackchurch was one of the most difficult training guilds in the world, so hearing her confession didn’t change his opinion of her one bit.

In a sense, perhaps he respected her even more for admitting her failing.

“Heroism takes many forms,” he said after a moment, his hand still on her head. “It can be in jumping into a river to save a young lass. It can be in admitting failure. It can be in showing loyalty and selflessness when it comes to a young queen. I know many warriors who are heroic and they never even made it into Blackchurch, though they tried. Regardless of what you think of your failure, you were heroic in trying to save Georgiana. I was there and I saw the entire event. I will go to my grave telling people how brave you were, how strong you were. I have never known anyone more heroic in my life.”

She turned to look at him then. Tears were swimming in her eyes. “But I failed .”

He smiled at her faintly and moved the hand on her head to her face, stroking her cheek gently with the back. “Is that what you think?” he murmured. “You would have failed had you not done anything. Had you not jumped into that river. Failure would have been to stand on the riverbank and scream, all noise and no action. It would have been to watch Georgiana drown and not try to do anything about it. Nay, lady, you did not fail. You succeeded in finding her when no one else could.”

Christelle fought off a sob, but the tears rolled down her face. “It was too late,” she whispered. “I found her too late.”

Leonidas shifted in his seat, sliding so that he was sitting next to her, and his arm went around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “But you found her,” he insisted softly. “That is the important thing. You succeeded in bringing her to the bank so she did not die in that river with no one around her. As it was, we were all with her when she passed. The last thing she knew was my hands on her and then you holding her. She heard your voice before she went to be with her mother. Better still, Juliette heard your voice. She saw how you tried to save her daughter. I know without question that Juliette was standing on that bank, waiting to take hold of Georgiana’s hand so they could be together once again. I also know she would have appreciated your efforts so very much. In fact, I brought you something that Juliette would want you to have to show her gratitude.”

Christelle was wiping at her face, head against his big shoulder, as he pulled something out of his tunic pocket. He held it up and she could see the glint of gold. Closer inspection showed that it was a round golden pendant with a big green stone in the center, surrounded by a ring of smaller green stones and finally a ring of small pearls. It was attached to a golden chain, a perfectly beautiful piece of jewelry.

“It’s lovely,” she said, sniffling.

He extended it to her. “This was given to Juliette when the twins were born,” he said. “She said that Edmund had it specially made by a goldsmith in London. The emeralds represent life and fertility and the pearls represent God’s blessings for the children.”

Christelle took it reluctantly, examining the truly beautiful pendant and flipping it over to see an inscription scratched on the backside.

“ Iubar ?” she read aloud.

He pointed at the letters. “It means ‘my sunshine,’” he said. “Juliette said that Edmund always called her Sunshine because of the color of her hair. It was golden red and glistened. Like sunshine.”

Christelle wiped the last of her tears and sat up, smiling at him. “That’s very sweet,” he said. “The man was a romantic.”

“He seemed to be,” Leonidas said as he watched her inspect the front of the pendant again. “Juliette would want you to have this, Christy. Let it always remind you of a little lass with a pet chicken. Let it always remind you of the day you did not fail.”

Christelle was starting to tear up again. “I do not know if I can keep it,” she said. “You should give this to Catie. It belonged to her mother, after all.”

He shook his head. “Trust me when I tell you that Catie will have more jewelry than she will know what to do with,” he said. “I am giving you this because of the special significance with Georgiana. Please take it.”

Christelle probably should have fought him on it a little more, but she couldn’t manage to do it. Leonidas’ wisdom and words had helped ease the terrible grief she felt a great deal and, in fact, had her looking at him a little differently. The Leonidas de Wolfe she had known before the journey to Ashendon was a serious man of few words and little kindness, but the man she’d come to know since embarking on this adventure was a man of thought and compassion.

And her feelings for him were growing deeper by the day.

“My thanks,” she said. “I will cherish it, always.”

“Good,” he said, a weak smile on his lips. “Juliette would like that. I do, too.”

Christelle smiled weakly in return, gazing into the man’s blue eyes before she realized how close they were. He still had his hand on her back because she had sat up when she took the necklace from him. No longer did she have her head against his shoulder, and she was disappointed to realize that. There had been such immense comfort in that gesture, simple as it was.

She could feel her cheeks start to flame.

“I suppose I should go into the keep and see if Phillipa needs me,” she said, averting her gaze. “I have been away from her overlong.”

“No need,” he said. “I left her not long ago. She was going to see to Catherine.”

“What about Gabriel?”

Leonidas looked back in the direction of the kitchen yard. “He is around here somewhere,” he said. “You know the knights look out for him, so if he is outside, somewhere, he is being watched. Truthfully, I thought I might find him in this yard with the chicken.”

They were both looking over in the kitchen yard now, searching for the errant child. “Mayhap I should go look for him,” Christelle said. “He must be feeling terribly lonesome without his sister by his side.”

She stood up, pausing only to put the necklace on. When it became caught in her hair, Leonidas stood up beside her and pushed her hands away, silently untangling her hair from the gold chain. Even when he was finished untangling it, he still pretended to fuss with it simply for the chance to touch her hair. In spite of the fact that she didn’t seem to know what a comb was, it was very pretty and very soft. He fingered it for a few moments longer before dropping his hand.

“Turn around and let me see it,” he said as she turned to face him. He admired the pendant as it rested against the green broadcloth surcoat she was wearing. “It looks lovely on you. Speaking of lovely, Phillipa mentioned something to me and I wonder if it is true.”

Christelle was looking down at the pendant, straightening it out. “What did she say?”

“That she thinks you are quite fond of me,” he said softly. “Is it true?”

That statement caught Christelle off guard. She stopped fingering the pendant, looking at him with an expression between shock and disbelief. There was horror in her eyes, but also something cool. Almost appraising. Clearly, she was trying to figure out how to answer him—but after a moment, she simply gave up and averted her gaze again.

“She said that?” she asked, sounding resigned.

“She did.”

“I did not say anything to her if that is what you are asking,” she said. “I would never do that.”

“I believe you,” he said. “But I want to know if her observations are true.”

Christelle thought on the question. Was it true? Of course it was true. But she couldn’t tell him.

… could she?

The mood unexpectedly began to shift.

“What does it matter?” she said. “You have only just lost your wife and now your daughter. You are in no position to entertain anyone’s affections and, quite frankly, I am offended that you would ask me such a thing. It is true that I kissed you, and I have apologized for being an opportunist, but that does not mean I am in love with you. I would not tell you if I was, so do not ask me such a thing.”

She was looking at her feet, speaking angrily, and Leonidas had to fight off a grin.

“I lost my wife two years ago,” he said. “I have grieved. I will not spend my life mourning a loss I can never regain because I am not a man who engages in futility. I loved Juliette but that does not mean I cannot love again.”

“I did not say that you couldn’t.”

“I know what you said,” he said, becoming more aggressive with her because she was almost being belligerent. “Christ, you’re a stubborn woman. Would it make it easier for you if I told you that I’m quite fond of you also? That I’ve always thought you were something lovely and wild, like an untamed horse, someone I have long admired? I already told you that I shall not forget your kiss and that you were brave for delivering it, but if it is not something you wish to repeat, and if you truly have no admiration for me in the romantic sense, then all you need do is tell me and we shall never have this conversation again. Am I clear?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing. “You are clear.”

“Well?”

“Of course Phillipa was correct. You’d have to be blind and stupid not to realize that!”

“I thought so.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

She was literally yelling. He cocked his head curiously. “Why are we shouting at each other?” he asked. “I am not clear on that.”

She opened her mouth to reply, loudly, but she suddenly burst into laughter. Gales of it. Leonidas joined her, those big canines front and center, and laughed until he cried. Reaching out, he grasped the pendant resting against her chest and held it up for her to see.

“Here’s something else we can shout at each other for,” he said. “Remember the inscription on the back?”

He was holding it right in front of her face and she had to tilt her head back in order to actually see it. “ Iubar ?”

“Exactly,” he said, lowering the pendant. “ Iubar . My sunshine. Edmund never put it there for Juliette. I lied about that. I took a nail and scratched that on myself.”

She looked at him, incredulous. “Why did you do that?”

He cocked a dark eyebrow. “Now who’s being blind and stupid?” he said, jabbing a finger at her. “Do you not recall when I said that I am in awe when I look at you because you are brighter than the sun?”

She nodded. “Of course I do.”

He shook his head as if she were, indeed, too dense to get his meaning. “You are sunshine, Christelle de Lorrain,” he said softly. “Mayhap someday, if you’ll stop being so stubborn, you will indeed be my sunshine.”

She bit her lip, looking away coyly in a gesture that was natural and sweet. She may not have had any practice flirting, but there was something innate in her that knew how. Still, he could see that she was blushing to the roots of her hair.

“How will we know when I am?” she asked. “Must I give permission?”

“Probably,” he said. “Will you?”

“May I think on it?”

“What is there to think about?”

“Are you going to force me into it, then?”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you not know when a man is trying to court you?”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

He clapped a hand on his forehead in a gesture of disbelief. “Evidently not well enough if you do not recognize it,” he said. Then he grew serious. “Must you truly think about it?”

She could see a flash of vulnerability in that question and it amused her. “Probably not.”

“ And ?”

“And I think I shall try to blind you if I can.”

“Are you giving me permission?”

“I’m telling you that I may possibly kiss you again.”

“Christ, woman, can you give me a straight answer?”

She burst into soft laughter. “I thought I was,” she said. “Leo, if you think a relationship between two stubborn people might actually be something we won’t regret, then I give you permission.”

That was all Leonidas needed to pull her against him, so forcefully that she grunted when their bodies collided. But his lips slanted over hers, firmly and tenderly at the same time, and Christelle succumbed without a fight.

That was the furthest thing from her mind.

Leonidas kissed her fiercely, or at least as fiercely as he dared, but the truth was that there was a great deal of joy behind his actions. Joy he hadn’t felt in years. In fact, when he first met Juliette, it had been at a meeting orchestrated by his father and he already knew that he was going to marry her. There was no courtship to speak of other than the actual marriage. Leonidas married first and courted later. Fortunately, that had worked out for both him and Juliette, so the fact that he was actually courting a woman now before marriage was something of a new event to him.

But he was liking it very much.

He thought he might compare Juliette to Christelle when it came to the physicality of a relationship. It seemed strange to be kissing a woman who wasn’t his wife, but on the other hand, Juliette’s tender kisses had been nothing like the fire he was feeling from Christelle. Perhaps it was the fact that this was so new, or perhaps it was because he was wildly attracted to this woman. In any case, his lips feasted on hers and she gave him absolutely no resistance.

He wanted more.

His hands ended up in that wild hair of hers, holding her head against his, her lips against his. He suckled her top lip and her bottom lip before finally using his tongue to gently open her mouth. She was sweet, like honey, and he licked her teeth and her lower lip, feeling her shudder against him. He could also feel her stirring the embers of desire within him, desire that he had experienced a few times in his life, but not like this. What he was experiencing with her was something quite different.

Something he very much wanted to explore.

It should have occurred to him that he was standing in the middle of the garden and anyone on the walls or even in the kitchen yard would be able to see them, but it didn’t. He was so caught up in the feel and the taste of her that it didn’t occur to him until he nearly rubbed her lips raw with his forceful attentions. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped kissing her but didn’t let her go. His big hands were still in her hair, but now he found himself staring at her as if trying to figure out why that kiss had nearly consumed him for all to see.

“I cannot promise that I will not do that again,” he said huskily. “If I frightened you, I apologize.”

Christelle, who was somewhat dazed, shook her head in a quick gesture, trying to shake some sense back into her. “Nothing frightens me,” she said. “Have you not realized that by now?”

“Then you liked it?”

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

She started to chuckle, shaking her head again at the ridiculous conversation. “If this relationship thrives, it will be a miracle,” she said. “Aye, I liked it. I let you do it, did I not?”

“I had my hands in your hair. You could not go anywhere.”

“If I wanted to go anywhere, you would not have stopped me.”

He conceded the point. “True,” he said, stroking his chin. “I will admit that I’ve never seriously courted a woman before. Mayhap I need your father’s permission in addition to yours?”

Her smile faded as she thought of Bernard de Lorrain. The man who had, only and always, used his daughter like a pawn. Now, the reality of her feelings for Leonidas was coming to bear because he had feelings for her also. That was something she had never anticipated. Had he not returned them, it would have been a simple thing for her to stick to her mission, the one she no longer wished to be part of, but telling her father would be a complex and possibly dangerous thing. And having Leonidas ask the man for permission to court her might throw everything into jeopardy.

She wondered what Leonidas would do if he found out she was a spy.

“I would not worry about my father,” she said quietly. “He would not at all be pleased with an Englishman courting me, so it is best that he does not know.”

Leonidas looked at her. “Not even if he knew you would be a countess if we married?”

She shook her head. “It is the fact that you are English,” she said. “The weight of a title would not outweigh his disdain for your country.”

“Then you do not wish to tell him at all?”

“Should we decide to marry, and I am assuming that is what you mean by courting me, we will tell him after the fact,” she said. “That way, he can do nothing about it.”

Leonidas grew serious. “What would he do?”

She shrugged. “If he knew before, he could have his men remove me from my post,” she said. “My father has an army, Leo. He is a powerful warlord.”

Leonidas grunted. “He has not met the de Wolfe empire,” he said. “My family has more than two dozen castles and other properties all over England and a combined army of twenty thousand men. I do not think your father can match that.”

“Hopefully he will not try,” she said. “But let us not speak of him now. We will speak of him later, if we decide that the two of us can establish a relationship that is amiable to us both.”

A smile played on his lips. “I am willing to try if you are.”

Christelle could feel herself blushing again. “I let you kiss me, did I not?”

“That you did.”

She averted her gaze, but not before casting him a brief, if somewhat flirtatious, glance. “I’m certain it will not be the last time,” she said. “But not out in the garden where everyone can see us. Rumors are probably already spreading like wildfire.”

He chuckled. “Then mayhap you had better tell Phillipa before she hears it from someone else.”

She nodded. “I will,” she said. “But for now, I think I would like to find Gabriel. He may need a friend. Would you like to come with me?”

Leonidas shook his head. “I have a few duties to attend to,” he said. “But I will see you tonight, at supper.”

“We are having roast pork.”

“I look forward to it. And to you.”

Christelle’s cheeks were on fire as she headed out of the kitchen yard, trying not to look at him because every time she did, she was certain her red cheeks grew redder. Once they quit the yard, he headed toward the gatehouse and Christelle headed toward the stable, thinking Gabriel might have gone in there. The twins had been known to go into the stable and play, so she hoped to find him there.

An hour later, with no sign of Gabriel to be found, the entire garrison began to hunt for the child.