WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,16

is delicate. Get your half-brothers home and tell Scott what has happened.”

“I’ll do it,” Alec said grimly. “Isabella is my niece, after all. I must speak to Scott about the situation, anyway. I will take Ronan and the de Wolfe brothers home to Castle Questing. Tor, you and Nat can return the body to de Featherstone’s father. You can tell the father what happened to his dishonorable son.”

Since the House of de Featherstone wasn’t far from Tor’s fortress of Blackpool, it made sense that Tor should deliver the bad news. Without an argument to that, Tor simply nodded.

As Thomas went to find the de Vesci knights and use them as his muscle when he sent the de Royans knights away without telling them what had become of Steffan, Tor went in search of something to wrap up de Featherstone’s body with, but the care he took with it wasn’t cautious or kind.

The man didn’t deserve it as far as he was concerned.

The best thing Tor could find was a big, dirty horse blanket from the livery behind the tavern and between him and Nat, they managed to wrap up de Featherstone tightly and haul him back out to the livery, storing him in one of the stalls as Tor returned to Alexander to stitch up his considerable wound.

With the excitement of the night over with, it was time to deal with the aftermath.

Confiscating one of the small sleeping chambers for Alexander, the tavern keep could find nothing better than heavy woolen thread to stitch up the young squire’s wound. Tor made the man boil it first, knowing that would help keep the poison away.

Alexander was very brave as Tor took that rough, heavy thread and put neat stiches from his neck to his ribcage, but it wasn’t painless in the least. For every grunt of pain that escaped Alexander’s lips, Tor was glad that Steffan de Featherstone was dead because if the man wasn’t, he would have been before the night was over.

Thomas had been right. They had created a hell of a mess, thanks to a runaway groom. Tor couldn’t help but wonder where, exactly, it was all going to end now.

A small spark often ignited a wildfire.

CHAPTER TWO

One week later

The village of Haltwhistle

“He’s starting to smell.”

The words came from Tor, plodding along on Enbarr with the body of Steffan slung over the horse’s rump, still wrapped up in that old horse blanket. Only now, it was held together with a good deal of hemp rope.

No one wanted the putrefying corpse escaping.

Nat, a broad man who looked a good deal like his late father, Kieran Hage, made a point of staying ahead of Tor.

“I know,” he said. “Why do you think I am riding in front of you?”

Tor sighed heavily. “I hate to go through the village, but there is no other way to reach the de Featherstone manse,” he said. “Hopefully, we can get through without attracting too much attention.”

“Or flies.”

That was something they both agreed on.

They continued along, entering the edge of town and passing by people who were going about their business. The sky overhead was relatively clear but puffy, dark clouds loomed, suggesting that more rain was in store for them.

Unfortunately, there had been a good deal of rain over the past week and part of the smell emanating from the body was because it had been repeatedly soaked from the rains and hadn’t entirely dried out. Mildew was sprouting and God only knew what else, and Tor knew that they had to get that corpse into the ground as soon as possible.

“I must admit that I am hesitant to present this corpse in its current state to Steffan’s father,” Tor said. “I haven’t looked at it in a couple of days but, based on the smell, I’m fairly certain it’s not in the best of condition.”

Nat glanced back at the bundle. “It’s starting to seep through the horse blanket,” he said. “Those fluids are beginning to leech out.”

“That’s a charming thought.”

“Do you know Steffan’s father?”

Tor shook his head. “I’ve met the man on a couple of occasions, but nothing more,” he said. “It’s my understanding that Featherstone is the de Featherstone country house. Either they are named for it or it is named for them, I do not know. But I heard once that they have another manse in Carlisle.”

Nat glanced at him. “The family is wealthy?”

“From what I’ve heard, wildly so,” Tor said. “Money made in the merchant trade. De Featherstone’s main support