The Lion of the North (45 page)

Those were the words Atticus had been waiting to hear all his life. He hadn’t realized that so much as he did at that very moment. To have Isobeau’s love, love so deep that she would kill for him, was something few men ever knew. He was the most fortunate man in the world, of that he was certain.

At last, the vengeance that had clouded their marriage from the start was over. Those who had murdered Titus had been punished. Norfolk was defeated, at least for the moment. Now, it was just the two of them and nothing else. They were alone and the night was peaceful. Atticus could only think of one thing to do to celebrate their marriage and their new beginning. He felt as if he had been waiting all of his life for this moment.

His mouth slanted over hers, hungrily. Isobeau responded immediately, latching on to him, her hands in his hair drawing him down to her. Atticus fell over onto the bed, on top of her, and his arms went around her as he kissed her fiercely. She was sweet, delectable, and warm. But he wanted more.

His tunic began to come off and he realized that Isobeau was removing it. She was pulling it up over his head. She tossed it aside as he grinned at her, kissing her ferociously as he went to remove her from her gown. Fortunately, it wasn’t restrictive and when the stays were unfastened, she easily slid out of it. Atticus threw it onto the ground. He very nearly jumped up and stomped on it. He’d been waiting to get the woman out of her clothing for days, weeks even, and he was thrilled to finally have his way. The shift followed next and at the sight of her nude and entirely delicious body, Atticus’ roving hands and mouth descended upon a taut nipple.

Isobeau groaned as he suckled her, his heated mouth sending bolts of pleasure through her body. He was moving quickly, with great passion, but with great care. Nothing he did was painful or unpleasant. Every time he touched her, every time his tongue lapped at her, she experienced only the greatest of pleasure.

In the midst of his mouth to her breasts and belly, Atticus had somehow managed to remove his leather breaches. He almost jumped up and stomped on those things, too, things that would prevent his flesh from touching Isobeau’s. They had made his arousals most painful as of late. Utterly nude against her, he savored the moment, their naked skin touching, and as his mouth continued to suckle her breasts, his fingers probed the dark curls between her legs. She was already moist and heated, her body preparing itself for his entry. He didn’t keep her waiting.

Atticus looked Isobeau in the eye when he finally mounted her, thrusting his long, hard length into her warm and quivering folds. Isobeau groaned with pleasure, bringing her legs up, wrapping them around his thighs as he thrust into her. Her hands moved over his body, acquainting herself with the feel of his skin as her nostrils drew in the scent of his musk. The man was pure power and pure excitement, and she savored every thrust, every movement. The Lion was finally mating with his chosen female, his wife, and as they took their pleasure upon the bed, Atticus simply couldn’t get enough of her. She was absolute paradise in his arms.

The wound on his hip, since stitched by Wellesbourne’s surgeon, pulled slightly and caused him a slight amount of pain as his hips moved, but he ignored the discomfort. There was far more pleasure to override any discomfort. Isobeau’s luscious body beneath him drew his lust, his hands on her heaving breasts, feeling the silken texture, until he could hold back no longer and his release came with a deafening roar.

The Lion’s roar.

Feeling his tremors within her body, Isobeau was catapulted into a blinding climax of her own, nearly screaming with pleasure until Atticus covered her mouth with his own in order to silence her. He knew that everyone in the castle had probably heard them but he didn’t much care; he was glad they heard him. It meant that life was good and normal again. It meant that grief was a thing of the past for them both and now, they could move forward into the light.

It meant that he loved Isobeau with all his heart.

Isobeau and Atticus remained in their chamber in Wellesbourne Castle all night and well into the day, making love no less than six times. Atticus only left the chamber to procure them food, which grinning servants gladly provided. The rest of Northumberland’s knights, meanwhile, enjoyed a few days of good food and hunting, knowing they would not be returning to Alnwick until Atticus was good and ready, and given the noises coming from his chamber up at the top of Wellesbourne’s keep, he might not be ready for a very long time.

But that was okay with them. Atticus and Isobeau had suffered through a long and painful journey to reach this point and to that regard, they deserved all of the joy and pleasure they were experiencing and then some. On that terrible day back in March when Titus had been killed, it had been the catalyst for something much larger for The Lion of the North, much larger than Atticus or even Isobeau could have ever realized.

On the night of their third day at Wellesbourne, Atticus stood in the lancet window of his chamber as Isobeau slept, gazing up at the stars and seeing a vast blanket of diamonds across the sky. They were glittering back at him, winking even, and he imagined he saw Titus in that blanket of stars, winking back at him. He even imagined he saw a smile. Atticus smiled back. For the younger brother of the murdered knight, finally, he was to know some joy.

Wherever Titus was, Atticus knew that he approved.

Atticus and Isobeau, at last, had found peace.

September 1467 A.D.

Wolfe’s Lair (Rule Water Castle)

T
he children had
been rolling around in the dust of the construction of a new wing of Wolfe’s Lair and there was nothing Isobeau could do to stop them. Caius de Wolfe, at five years of age, thought it was an extremely good idea to cover himself in white stone-dust while his younger brother by a year, Leonidus, simply followed what his brother directed. The blond-haired children became white-haired children as their grandfather, Solomon, watched the whole thing and giggled like a fool.

“Solomon?” Isobeau was in the bailey, a very pregnant woman leading a two-year-old girl by the hand. “Where are the boys?”

Solomon was seated on a stack of gray stones that were prepped and waiting to be used to create the inner wall of the addition. He pointed to an area where the masons from Edinburgh were working, men who were spraying white stone dust onto the ground. Isobeau saw the stones, the dust, and then saw her two boys smearing the dust all over themselves. She growled.

“Caius!” she snapped. “Leo! Come to me,
now
!”

Mother’s orders weren’t meant to be disobeyed and the sons of Atticus de Wolfe were well aware of that. Promptly, the boys stopped rubbing white dust all over each other and skipped over to their mother, who didn’t seem particularly happy that they were covered in stone dust.

“Mama,
look,
” Leonidus said, grinning in a manner that was very much reminiscent of his father. “We are clouds!”

It was difficult to become angry at the child when he seemed so happy. Isobeau sighed. “But why are you clouds?” she said. “You know that your father’s army has been sighted. He should be back any moment. And see how dirty you are.”

Solomon put a hand on Leonidus’ head, watching a great cloud of dust puff up. He coughed, waving the cloud away. “They are becoming clouds to fly in the sky,” he said, smiling proudly at the boys. “You know how they are fascinated with birds. They know they cannot be birds, so they will be clouds.”

Isobeau shook her head reproachfully, looking pointedly at Caius, the eldest. He was extremely bright and extremely curious and she was positive it was his idea to become a cloud so that he could float in the sky.

“Cai,” she admonished softly; she didn’t want to be too hard on him. “You know you cannot fly like a bird and know you cannot float like a cloud. It frightens me to death to remember the time I found you and Leo standing on the top of the stairs outside of your chamber, preparing to fly off like a bird. You must promise me that you will not do anything so foolish again. You will kill yourself if you do and I could not stand it. Please promise me.”

Caius nodded solemnly, although they both knew he didn’t mean a word of it. He simply did it to placate his mother. “I promise,” he said. “Mama, will Papa be here very soon?”

Isobeau nodded, turning to look at the gatehouse, shielding her eyes from the sun. “He should be here very soon,” she said. “I would like for you to greet your father when he arrives but not covered from head to toe in white powder.”

Solomon stood up, stiffly. He wasn’t moving particularly well these days but he could still handle two small boys. At least, most of the time. His entire life revolved around his grandchildren – Caius, Leonidus, and little Morgana. He loved the children dearly. But Caius and Leonidus reminded him very much of Titus and Atticus, from long ago, so he spent nearly every waking minute with those two, watching them explore and learn and cover themselves in white dust so they could be clouds. So late in his life, he never imagined he would know such joy. Five years ago, he believed his life was over. He could have never guessed that it had only just begun.

“I will clean them off,” Solomon said.

Grasping each boy by the shoulder, he pulled them over to a very large barrel that was used to catch rainwater. The stone masons had been using it to cool off the stone when they worked on it. Picking up Caius, he promptly dunked the lad into the cold water, pushing his head under briefly, and when Caius came up howling, Solomon lifted him out of the water and set him to his feet. He pointed to the drenched, but now clean, child.

“See?” he said. “He is clean now.”

Leonidus, seeing what was coming, tried to run but his grandfather dunked him, too. Soon, Isobeau had two weeping boys on her hands. They were clean but crying because they were now cold and wet. She sighed heavily when what she really wanted to do was laugh. It was unbelievably comical; the children crying while Solomon stood there proudly.

“Do you see now why you should not cover yourself in dust or mud or anything else?” she said to Caius, who was unhappily wiping the tears from his eyes. “Your grandfather will try to drown you.”

Caius frowned at his grandfather and moved closer to his mother because he knew she wouldn’t try to throw him in cold water. “We will go wait for Papa by the gatehouse,” he said, motioning to the still-wailing Leonidus. “Leo, come!”

Little Leonidus followed his older brother, still crying. Isobeau and Solomon watched the boys trot off and Solomon reached down to pick up little Morgana, still standing next to her mother. He cuddled the little girl, who rubbed her hands gleefully all over his bushy beard.

“Ah, my little sweetling,” Solomon said, gazing at the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl. “Have I told you lately how much she looks like Rosalie?”

Isobeau grinned, rubbing at her swollen belly. The next child was due next month but she was ready to be done with it. Her back hurt, she had burning in her belly after she ate, and she was at the stage where she was generally uncomfortable.

“She looks just like Atticus,” she said as they followed the boys and began their walk to the gatehouse. Her thoughts turned to her husband, gone the past seven weeks. Two of his envoys had arrived early this morning, announcing his arrival that day, and she was understandably anxious. “We’ve not had any news of what is happening with Edward and Henry as of late, Solomon. Do you think Atticus returning today will be for good? Do you believe he will be home to stay?”

Solomon, the old and wizened soldier, shook his head. “I do not believe so, lass,” he said as Morgana continued to run her hands over his beard because it tickled. “These wars have been going on since I was a young man and longer even than that. I am not entirely sure they will ever be finished.”

Isobeau didn’t like the sound of that. She continued to rub at her belly, frowning, as they made their way towards the gatehouse. They were in close proximity when the call went up from the sentries on the wall, announcing the imminent arrival of Atticus de Wolfe and his army. Solomon shooed Isobeau and Morgana up onto a flight of stairs so they could watch the arrival but not be trampled by the herd of horses that would soon be filling the inner ward.

True enough, a herd of horses and armed men arrived shortly thereafter, bringing clouds of dust and the smell of battle with them. Isobeau kept an eye out for her husband but she also kept an eye on her boys, who were standing on the steps above her, yelling and cheering the sight of the soldiers. They were so excited that she didn’t want one of them to fall off in their glee, so she admonished them firmly to stop jumping around, which they mostly did. Caius was always the one to push the limits with his mother and he stopped jumping up and down for a few seconds before resuming. Isobeau frowned and he caught her glare and stopped again. But all of that discipline evaporated when they spied Atticus enter.

Riding a new bright red Belgian charger he had purchased the year before, Atticus thundered into the inner ward wearing full armor, which was unusual for him considering he hated armor. Still, he wore it to please his wife who insisted upon the protection, and he didn’t want her to see he’d been riding most of the time without it. Therefore, he pretended to like it, and wore it, as he drew his charger to a halt. Once he did that, the boys flew off the steps and rushed their father.

Atticus was barely off the horse when two wet children came crashing into him. Thrilled to see his boys again, he bent over and picked them up, accepting enthusiastic hugs from them.

“Cai!” he said happily. “Leo! Great Bleeding Jesus, you have both grown a foot since I last saw you. What on earth is your mother feeding you?”

“Anything they will eat,” Isobeau said as she walked up on her husband and her sons. She smiled broadly at the man when their eyes met; instantly, love and comfort and joy filled the air between them. “Your sons eat as much as you do.”

Atticus laughed softly as he set the boys to their feet. “That is good to know,” he said, peering at them strangely. “Why are they all wet?”