In full armor minus his helm, the man looked weary and stubbled as he pulled off his massive leather gloves. His gaze fixed on Stephen and Joselyn.
“Lady Pembury, you are looking well,” he greeted Joselyn before looking to Stephen. “Can I safely assume that the only reason you are leaving the great hall is because there is nothing more to eat? I have ridden twenty miles since early this morning and was hoping to make sup before you inhaled everything not nailed to the table.”
Stephen grinned. “There is still plenty of food left, although Kenneth and I have managed to eat all of the sweets. You should have arrived earlier.”
Tate heard Kenneth’s name, suddenly noticing the man as he rose from the table several feet away. A weary grin creased Tate’s mouth as he and Kenneth came together in a powerful handshake, reaffirming bonds that had been present since they were youths. Although Tate had a brother, Kenneth was like one and it was a satisfying moment as he gazed into the familiar features. Even perpetually stone-faced Kenneth’s expression warmed at the sight of his friend and liege.
“Ken,” Tate greeted. “Good to see you, man. You are looking fat and old.
Kenneth lifted a blond eyebrow as Stephen piped in. “That is exactly what he said to me,” he said. “We must find better insults, or at least more original ones. We are getting too predictable in our old age.”
Tate laughed softly, letting go of Kenneth’s hand as he studied his friend. He was very glad to see him. “Are the Marches treating you well?”
Kenneth nodded. “Well but boring,” he replied. “I was infinitely thankful for your summons to join Stephen. It feels strange not to see both of you every day, fighting side by side as we did for all of those years.”
Tate slapped the man on the shoulder. “It goes against the natural order of things for the three of us to not serve together,” he said, eyeing Stephen as he did so. “And speaking of serving, may I have a word with you, Stephen?”
“Of course,” Stephen took Joselyn’s hand and passed her off to Kenneth. “Can you please see Lady Pembury back to our chamber?”
Kenneth took her hand in his big warm palm. “It will be my pleasure.”
“Take her directly to the chamber, Ken. No walking around and absolutely no returning to the kitchens no matter how much she begs.”
Kenneth lifted an eyebrow at Stephen as he tucked Joselyn’s hand into the crook of his elbow. He began to lead her away. “Is he always so overbearing?” he asked her.
Stephen pursed his lips at the question as Joselyn cast him an impish glance over her shoulder. “Most always,” she turned back to Kenneth. “But he means well.”
“Do not be so tolerant, Lady Pembury. You do not really want to return to bed, do you?”
Joselyn fought off a grin, speaking loudly enough so that Stephen could hear her. “Perhaps there is something extremely devilish and strenuous that I should be doing instead.”
Kenneth nodded as if he knew exactly what she meant. “We’ll find something.”
Stephen grunted to catch their attention, reminding them that he was indeed hearing every word as they meant he should. “If she is not in the bed when I return to our chamber in five minutes, I will hold you personally responsible, St. Héver. And I promise you will not like my reaction.”
Kenneth cast him a disinterested glance before looking back to Joselyn. “What shall we do?”
Joselyn lifted her shoulders. “He is rather big. Perhaps we should listen to him.”
“I am not afraid of him. Well, not much.”
“Should we do as he says?”
They were at the door by that point. As they passed through the threshold and out into the mild night air, Kenneth cast a pointed look at Stephen.
“Let him wonder if we have.”
They were gone through the door. Stephen’s expression was still molded into a disapproving frown as he returned his attention to Tate, who was grinning quite openly at him. He shook his head at the sight of Stephen’s face.
“Since when are you without humor?” he wanted to know. “Kenneth is usually the serious one and you are usually the one I cannot keep straight. What has happened to you?”
Stephen grinned reluctantly. “My humor is intact but not when it comes to my wife’s health.”
“Health?” he repeated. “What is wrong with her? She looks well enough.”
Stephen shook his head. “She has been running a slight fever since she was wounded. I cannot seem to rid her of it.”
Tate nodded in understanding. “Whatever is causing it, I am sure you will cure her,” he said, eyeing him as he moved on to a more important subject. “Perhaps seeing her son might improve her health.”
Stephen’s dark eyebrows rose with realization, surprise. “So you have the boy?”
Tate nodded. “Cade Alexander is in the gatehouse warming himself by the fire,” he said. “He is a well behaved, thoughtful boy and Buccleuch was reluctant to let him go. But after I explained the circumstances, of which he was unaware, he released him.”
“Have you spoken to the lad at all?”
“A little. Enough to know that he likes dogs, enjoys war playing, and has your wife’s blue eyes. He is a handsome boy.”
“Did you tell him why he is coming to Berwick?”
Tate shook his head. “I am going to leave that up to you.”
Stephen nodded, digesting the information. In truth, now that the boy had arrived, he was not quite sure how he was going to feel towards the child given the fact that he was a product of an extremely harrowing act against the woman he loved. On the other hand, the boy was a part of Joselyn. For that fact alone, he would treat him as a son. But there were a few things unsaid between him and de Lara. He cleared his throat softly, crossing his enormous arms and looking rather uncomfortable.
“Just so you are aware,” he said quietly, “because of Jo-Jo’s injury and subsequent illness, I never told her that you went to retrieve the boy.”
It was Tate’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “She does not know?”
“Nay.”
“And you let me leave to retrieve the child without telling me?” There was disapproval in Tate’s voice. “I told you that she should be the one to make the final decision. Perhaps she does not want the boy here, reminding her of a most heinous and violent crime against her.”
Stephen put up his hands in supplication. “I told you that she has been too ill to discuss it. I will tell her tonight, this moment, in fact. But I told you before, I strongly believe that her maternal instincts will erase any fear or horror she might feel. He is her son, Tate. She will want him with her.”
Tate just growled and shook his head. He made a move towards the food-laden table, but not before he jabbed a finger at Stephen. “Tell her now,” he rumbled. “And when I am finished eating, I am returning to Forestburn and my own wife who, by the way, is probably already on her way here to drag me home by the ear. And if she is, I will expect you to defend me since the only reason I am still here is because you sent me on a fool’s errand.”
He was speaking angrily, although it was without force. He was exhausted more than anything else and Stephen knew it. But he had a point. He followed Tate to the table, watching the man grab a massive hunk of herbed bread and tear into it.
“I need to speak to you about your return to Forestburn, in fact,” he said quietly.
Tate just rolled his eyes. “Leave me in peace, Pembury. For a few bloody minutes, just leave me in peace and let me eat.”
Stephen fought off a grin, watching Tate try to ignore him. “I have another favor to ask of you.”
“I am going to take my sword and drive it into your gut if you do not leave me alone.”
“Wait until you hear me out before drawing your sword, please.”
“Good God,” Tate snarled. “What is it, then, and be quick about it.”
Stephen didn’t say anything for a moment. He stood there, trying to force the words out, but it was an extremely difficult struggle. He
didn’t want to say them. But he knew he had to.
“I want you to take Joselyn with you when you leave,” he said quietly. “I want her out of Berwick.”
Tate stopped chewing and looked at him. “Why?”
Stephen inhaled slowly, wearily. “Because Ken seems to think that the Scots are building up to a major attack. He interrogated Joselyn’s cousin earlier today and based on the man’s information, Ken feels that the lack of recent activity means the Scots are preparing for something big. If that is true, then I do not want Joselyn within these walls. I want her safe.”
Tate swallowed the bite in his mouth. “And what do you feel, as the Guardian Protector?”
Stephen lifted an eyebrow, slowly. “I cannot say that I am in complete agreement, but the lack of activity, any at all, is troubling.”
“Ken has never been an alarmist.”
“I know. That is why I am taking his advice regardless of how I feel. Perhaps he is sensing something I am not.”
Tate took another bite of bread. “If that is true, then I should not leave. I should remain here with you.”
Stephen shook his head. “We are expecting reinforcements from Henry of Lancaster any day now,” he countered. “It is not necessary for you to stay.”
Tate fell silent as he swallowed his bread and delved into a big beef knuckle. “You know,” he said casually, “it has been a long time since you and Ken and I have fought side by side. I am not sure I want to miss that.”
“If you do not take Joselyn to Forestburn, then Ken has already said that he will. I have a feeling Toby would rather see you than Ken.”
“Toby will eat Ken alive if he shows his face instead of me.”
“So you will take her when you go?”
Tate sighed faintly, some of the fight gone out of him. He resumed chewing, more slowly. “What will you do about the boy?”
“Send him with her. They can take the time to get acquainted.”
De Lara scratched his head with exhaustion, digesting both his meal and the information the night had brought. “Will you tell him of his parentage before I leave?”
“When will you leave?”
He shrugged and wiped at his mouth. “More than likely on the morrow. If you are comfortable with what troops you have here, there is no reason for me to stay any longer.”
“Good,” Stephen agreed. “The sooner you remove Joselyn from this place, the better I will feel.”
With nothing more to say, Stephen left Tate devouring half a cow while he left the warm, stale great hall for the cool evening outside. Dogs barked in the distance and sentries with torches lit up the battlements. Stephen surveyed the bailey as he passed through en route to the keep, half-expecting to see his wife somewhere in the confines. He would not have been surprised to see that she had convinced St. Héver to disobey a command. But there was no wife lurking in the shadows of the bailey so he entered the keep, mounting the stairs just as Kenneth was descending. They nearly crashed into each other and Stephen had to back down to the bottom to allow Kenneth to descend. The big blond knight was moving faster than usual.
“What is wrong with you?” Stephen demanded. “You move as if the Devil is on your heels.”
“The devil is,” he lifted a white eyebrow, moving for the entry. “Your wife was attempting to coerce me into taking her fawn out for a night stroll. She said if I did not do it, she would be forced to take it. I had to run away lest she snare me for the task.”
Stephen snorted. “Coward.”
Kenneth was out the door, walking backwards as he jabbed a finger at Stephen. “The woman is bewitching, Pembury. She looks at you with her pale blue eyes and it is impossible to deny her.”
Stephen shook his head with a grin on his face. “You are telling me something I already know.” He lifted his voice as Kenneth moved further away. “De Lara leaves on the morrow for Forestburn. He is taking Joselyn with him.”
“Good!” Kenneth shouted from mid-way across the bailey.
Stephen’s grin was still on his lips when he reached his chamber and opened the door. Joselyn was sitting on the bed, removing her shoes, her head snapping up when Stephen entered. She smiled, mostly because she was glad to see him but also because he was still grinning. She cocked her head.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
He rubbed his chin wearily, yawning with the sudden heat of the room. “Because you have scared Kenneth away,” he told her, putting out a hand to stop her as she went to set her shoe on the bed. “Wait a moment. I have a need to speak with you before you undress for bed.”
She was interested and curious. “Of course. What about?”
Stephen’s smile faded as he gazed down at her, wondering for the first time how she was going to receive the news of her son being within the walls of Berwick. He had meant well when he had sent Tate to retrieve the boy, but now he wondered if he had done the right thing. He was suddenly uncertain. He moved to one of the two large chairs that flanked the table in the room and lowered himself down.
Stephen sat forward with a deep sigh, leaning his elbows against his knees and letting his hands hang. It was clear that he was pensive as he focused on Joselyn, meeting her inquisitive expression.
“Jo-Jo, you know that I love you and there is nothing on this earth that I would not do for you,” he began quietly. “I have done something… questionable. I hope you will forgive me.”
She shook her head faintly, having no idea what he was talking about. “I would forgive you anything, my angel. What is it?”
He smiled faintly in response before his smile faded away. “I have a confession that must not leave these walls.”
She grew very serious. “I would never betray you.”
“I know that. But you must understand that what I did, I did for you.”
“What did you do?”
He inhaled deeply again as if gathering courage. “The soldier that raped you,” he began quietly, so quietly that it was nearly a whisper. “I killed him.”
Joselyn’s eyes widened. “You… you killed him?”
He nodded slowly. “During the siege those weeks ago when I came to you demanding the truth of what your father had done to you. Do you recall that day?”
She nodded, suddenly looking as if she was about to cry. “I do.”
Stephen could sense the mood of the conversation turning grave. “The soldier with the scar on his forehead saved my life upon the battlements that day,” he tried to sound as if he was not struggling with the conversation, which he was. “I thanked him before I realized who it was. When I confronted him about your rape, he said that you were not virgin when he had taken you. He called you a whore so I killed him.”
Joselyn burst into quiet tears and hung her head. Stephen went to her, drawing her into his massive embrace and holding her tightly. He lay back on the bed, taking her with him, holding her while she wept. His lips were on her forehead as he spoke.
“He can no longer hurt you,” he murmured. “I had to tell you what I had done so that you would not live in fear of seeing this man for the rest of your life. But know this, I would kill a thousand men just as easily in order to keep you safe and happy. You are the most important thing in the world to me.”
Her weeping increased and she lifted her head, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.
“I love you,” she murmured, tears on her lips as she kissed his face. “You are my angel and I love you more than life.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, holding her close and burying his face in her hair. His attention was momentarily diverted as he realized that she didn’t feel as warm as she had earlier. He felt a good deal of relief that her fever was apparently abating. With that comfort, he moved on to the next piece of news he needed to deliver.
“There is something else you must know,” he said softly, pulling his face from her hair and focusing on her red-rimmed eyes. “You told me once that the child that was the result of the r
ape was fostering at Ettrick Castle. Do you recall?”
She nodded, sniffling. “His name is Cade.”
“I asked de Lara to fetch the boy. He is here at Berwick.”
Her eyes abruptly widening to titanic proportions as his words sank in. Her mouth popped open and in an instant, the tears were vanished. “He is here?” she breathed with shock.
“Aye,” Stephen replied steadily. “That is why I asked for your forgiveness. I should have asked you how you felt about a reunion with him but I did not. I had Tate go to Ettrick and bring the boy back to Berwick. He is your son, Joselyn, and because he is part of you, he is a part of me as well. With your approval, I should like to adopt the boy.”
She stared at him, the pale blue eyes wide with astonishment. “You would become his father?”
“If you will allow it.”
She continued to stare at him, overwhelmed. There was so much amazement and delight in her heart that she could hardly contain or express it. Her hands were on his cheeks, her pale blue eyes boring into him, as words of gratitude, amazement and blessing tumbled over and over in her mind. It went beyond what she ever believed the man capable of. His graciousness was without measure.
“You honor me, Stephen,” she finally whispered, the emotion apparent in her eyes. “There are no words to express my love for you or the joy that is in my heart at the moment. To thank you seems wholly inadequate.”
He smiled faintly, touched by her reaction. “Then you approve?”
She nodded so strongly that her hair ended up in her eyes, throwing her arms around his neck again and holding him fast against her. Then she abruptly bolted off the bed.
“Where is he?” she demanded.
Stephen grabbed her by the wrist so she would not run wild. “Sweetheart, listen to me,” he tried to force her to focus so he could finish telling her what he must. “Cade has no knowledge that you are his mother. He does not even know why he is here. It would be well for you both if we treat this very carefully. You must be gentle when you explain the circumstances of his parentage.”
Joselyn was in a haze of delirium, but she understood what Stephen was trying to tell her. Or, at least she thought she did. She nodded her head eagerly, struggling to control her excitement.