Dark Destroyer (20 page)

“Lord de Lara already gave you money, woman,” a de Lara sergeant with a bushy, red beard said. “Why have you returned?”

A small, pale woman with a pretty face and a baby bundled in her arms stood at the kitchen gate of Hyssington, a sectioned-out piece of the wall that looked as if it were made for midgets. It was only about four feet tall, making it difficult to pass through, but if one was being attacked and the gate was breeched, it would make it difficult for the enemy to pass through bending over. One could get a head lobbed off at that angle, which was exactly the point.

“Your lord cannot pay me enough money to go away,” the woman staunchly said. “I told him that. I must speak with Gates de Wolfe and no amount of money will change that.”

The soldier eyed the woman and the baby in her hand. He’d been on duty last night when she’d come around and he’d heard tale, from de Lara himself, what the woman’s business was. It wasn’t uncommon for a man to have a bastard or two about but Gates de Wolfe seemed to have a knack for it. He was fearless on the battlefield and commanded his men’s utmost respect as a knight, and as a man who seemed to be rather prolific and careless when it came to women, he also commanded a good deal of respect, mostly because most men wished they had the comely looks, skill, and resources that Gates de Wolfe had.

The man was a legend and not all of it related to his blade.

Therefore, de Lara’s men, men under de Wolfe’s command, defended and supported their commander and this was one of those occasions. The bushy-beard sergeant shook his head at the woman.

“You’ll not speak with him, woman,” he said. “You have been fairly paid. Do not come back here.”

The young woman’s features hardened. “I will not go away,” she said flatly. “If you send me away from this gate, I will simply go around to the front gatehouse and beg. I will create such a storm that you will not be able to hide from it, do you hear? This is Gates de Wolfe’s son and he shall know of it.”

With that, she held the infant up, who had been sleeping, now disturbed. As the baby began to wail, loudly, the sergeant was coming to re-think his strategy. He didn’t want the woman creating a scene and embarrassing de Wolfe.

“Have you no decency?” he demanded. “You spread your legs for de Wolfe if, in fact, this is truly his son and now you show up to shame him in front of his men? If you had any respect for the man at all, you would simply go away from here and bear your shame in private.
You
bore the child – it is
your
responsibility.”

The young woman’s cheeks flamed. “Are you going to send for de Wolfe or not?”

“I am not.”

The young woman’s features stiffened with rage. “Then I shall come back here every day and scream for the man until you send him to me. And I will make sure and tell everyone that it is
your
fault that I am screaming for him. If you will only send for him now, this will cease to be your problem and become de Wolfe’s. Now,
send
for him.”

The sergeant believed her. He also knew he had little choice. Greatly annoyed, he had a kitchen servant unlock the gate and allow the woman into the kitchen yard as he sent another servant for de Wolfe. Then he stood by, glaring at the young woman as she now tried to soothe the yelling baby, and hoped de Wolfe wouldn’t be too upset with him for bothering him with such a trivial thing. De Wolfe was an amiable man, good to his men, but his temper could be unpredictable at times. The sergeant hoped this wasn’t one of those times.

So they waited as the morning deepened and the clouds began to shift around overhead, being pushed eastward by a strong breeze. The sergeant kept glancing up to the sky, concerned that it would begin to snow on them at some point as the wait dragged on. But no snow was forthcoming and the baby eventually quieted down and went back to sleep. Almost an hour after sending a servant running for de Wolfe, the knight finally made an appearance.

He was coming from the direction of the keep, heading into the corner of the fortress where they kitchens were located. Although there was a wall around the kitchen yard, the sergeant could still see the man’s approach because of his line of sight through the kitchen gate. De Wolfe was walking with a purpose, slogging through the mud that was still frozen in places, as he reached the kitchen gate and yanked it open. Even from a distance, the sergeant could tell by de Wolfe’s pinch-cold expression that he was vastly displeased.

“My lord,” the sergeant said as de Wolfe approached. “The young woman would not leave. She has been demanding….”

Gates cut him off, his hazel-gold eyes boring into the young woman like hot steel. “I know,” he said, reaching out to grab the woman. “With me, Helene.”

He continued walking, away from the sergeant, yanking Helene of Linley with him. Tiny, slender, with a pale beauty about her, Helene was overjoyed to finally see the father of her child.

“Gates!” she gasped. “It has been so very long! I had heard rumors that you returned and I had to come and see you!”

Gates’ jaw was ticking furiously as he pulled her all the way to the curtain wall before coming to a halt. Then he released her arm and faced her.

“Aye, I have returned,” he said, unfriendly. “What do you want?”

Helene’s face fell just a bit. She had been expecting a warm and happy welcome from the man she had given herself over to. “I… I have been waiting over a year for you to return from France,” she said. Then, she began to quickly pull back the swaddling on the baby in her arms, exposing the sleeping face. “Look – your son. He was born six months ago. His name is Wolfe of Linley. I named him for you, Gates. He is a strong and healthy boy, worthy of your legacy.”

Gates looked at the child, fighting off a sense of aversion. It was true that he had at least two bastards that he knew of and now he was gazing upon a third. He knew this because the child looked just like his father. Still, he would not acknowledge it. That sort of thing never came out in his favor.

“So you have had a son,” he said. “Congratulations. What do you want me to do about it?”

Helene blinked. That was not the answer she had come for. Her mood fell further. “He is
your
son, Gates,” she said softly. “I should think… he is a fine boy and worthy of you. I should think that you would want to claim him.”

“Claim him?”

Helene nodded, receiving the distinct impression that Gates was not thrilled to see the child. Struggling not to become distraught in his reaction, she decided to push her agenda. It was something she had been practicing for since the night Gates had bedded her. With the man’s son in her arms, she had a strong case to plead.

“My father is Lord Linley,” she said. “I realize I may not be worthy enough for a de Wolfe wife, but I swear to you that I would be faithful and true. I would make a very fine wife, Gates.”

Gates knew this had been the intention behind her appearance all along. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words.
I will make you a fine wife and we can be a family
. Nay, not the first time at all. He’d heard them before.

Therefore, there were two ways he could handle the situation; either throw Helene out on her arse or try to charm his way out of it. Much like he did with Jasper, he found that honey often got him his wants more than vinegar did. With women, it was easy to show them a little honey. They were vulnerable to sweetness from a man, and Helene was no different. The night he’d bedded her, she had melted to his will like hot butter. It had truly been no feat at all.

“Helene,” he said softly. “I am sure you would make a very fine wife. But you know that marriage is not for me. You and I discussed it… well, the last time we saw each other. You were in need of kindness and food at the time and I was more than happy to provide both. But I cannot marry, sweetly. You
know
this.”

Helene swallowed hard, struggling against her great and vast disappointment. “I will be no trouble,” she insisted. “Wolfie and I eat very little and we do not take up much space. If you could only consider it, Gates. My father… he does not know the baby is a de Wolfe. If I tell him, he will make outrageous demands of you and your father. Please… I do not want to tell him.”

Gates cocked an eyebrow, suddenly seeing her angle in all of this. She was going to try and force him to it.
The little vixen!

“Are you saying that if I do not marry you, then you will tell your father the child is mine?” he asked.

Helene shrugged, looking down at the infant in her arms. “He looks just like you,” she said. “My father would not like it if you refused to marry me.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “He might send word to your father, demanding money,” she said, sounding casual about it. “He might even send word to the king and tell him of your careless behavior. There is no knowing what my father would do.”

Gates didn’t like being threatened. His initial resolve to charm his way out of marriage took a harsh turn and he quickly decided to fight back. More than that, he would beat her at her own game.

“The child looks just like any number of men here at Hyssington, men whom I can swear to you will attest that they bedded you at one time or another,” he said grimly, watching her eyes fly open in horror. “Is that what you want, Helene? To threaten me? Because I can guarantee you that it will make you look far worse than it will me. Shame will be upon
you
, not me.”

Helene gasped. “You will not accept this child as your own?”

“I will not accept you trying to coerce me into marriage.”

Her mouth flew open in outrage. “So you would slander me?” she gasped. “You are an honorable knight. You would not do such a thing!”

Gates didn’t waver. “Are you willing to take the chance?”

Helene’s outrage lasted a few moments longer before she burst into quiet tears when she realized what he was saying.
Shame will be upon you
. So much for trying to force the man into marriage. Weeping, she lowered her head.

“Why would you do this?” she whispered. “You… you told me I was beautiful. You told me I was special. You spoke of wonderful things that you promised to show me. Don’t you remember?”

Gates wasn’t moved by the tears. In fact, he was growing impatient. “I tell every lass she is beautiful and special,” he said coldly. “What you heard was not unusual. But I will tell you this; had you not threatened me, this situation might have gone much better in your favor. But your greed has left you without recourse. You will go now and you will not return. Is this in any way unclear?”

Helene’s head came up, tears on her face. “It is true what people have said about you,” she hissed. “You
are
the Dark Destroyer, destroying women’s lives for your own pleasure. You are a terrible man!”

“If I am so terrible then why do you demand I marry you?”

That caught Helene off-guard for a moment, but only for a moment. She came back in torment. “How can you be so callous towards your own child?”

Gates’ jaw ticked. “You cannot prove it is mine,” he said. “As I said, I can produce ten other soldiers at Hyssington who would swear they bedded you should you try to force me to accept this child. You would have done much better had you not threatened to tell your father in order to force me into marriage. See what your treachery has cost you?”

Helene was devastated. “But he is yours,” she wept. “He is
your
son! No other man has ever bedded me. You are the only one!”

Gates reached out and took her arm, pulling her towards the kitchen gate. “So you say,” he said cruelly. The woman had angered him and now he was behaving poorly, miffed with anyone who would try to blackmail him. “Go, now. I do not want to see you again.”

Helene yanked her arm away from him, sharply, startling the child in her arms so it started to wail. She staggered towards the kitchen gate as Gates shepherded her in that direction, making sure she went through the gate and then ensuring it was locked behind her. He watched her wander off, her weeping fading as she moved away from the castle through the snow-topped trees. He couldn’t even manage to dredge up any sympathy for her, greedy woman that she was.

But he knew, instinctively, that it would not be the last time he saw her.