WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,24

seventeen years ignoring any thoughts of remarrying again and it was something he was untroubled by until about an hour ago.

Now, he was troubled.

If Isalyn de Featherstone was nothing else, she was honest and forthright. The entire conversation in that overheated tavern had been an introduction to a woman who didn’t think like most women of the day. She believed women should be strong and should not be dependent upon a man. Such thoughts coming from a well-bred and well-educated young lady were not normal. Well-bred young women were conditioned to be polite and ladylike and appreciate chivalry, but not Isalyn.

She had her own ideas about such things.

Truth be told, he didn’t really mind.

He found her fascinating.

But no longer. Realizing she was Steffan de Featherstone’s sister essentially destroyed any hope of a further relationship with her and he realized that he was grossly disappointed. He was quite certain that there wasn’t much chance of a woman like that wanting to maintain a friendship with the man who had killed her brother.

“It is a coincidence that you are Gilbert de Featherstone’s daughter,” he said after a moment. “I was just going to visit your father at Featherstone.”

“Oh?” she said with surprise. “You know my father?”

He shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “I know of him. In case you have not recognized my standard, my father is the Earl of Warenton. My name is Tor de Wolfe.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You are a de Wolfe?”

“I am. One of those provincial knights who lead boring lives.”

She heard her words come out of his mouth and her cheeks flushed a dull red. “I am sorry,” she said. “I should not have said such a thing. I have never had trouble speaking my mind and it has caused some embarrassment at times, mostly mine. I am sorry.”

Because she was so ashamed, he forgave her in an instant. “No harm done,” he said, smiling. “But I will say that my life, and the lives of my family, are anything but boring. It can be quite exciting along the Scottish Marches when we are the only thing that stands between a Scottish invasion into those big cities you are so fond of. Did you ever think of who was protecting your freedom to write plays and cavort without an escort?”

She shook her head, properly contrite. “I suppose I have not,” she said. “It seems that I have offended you twice today, my lord. Once when you saved me from that horse and now with my opinion of provincial knights.”

“The day is still young. There may yet be the opportunity for more insults.”

He was jesting, but Isalyn looked at him with a measure of horror. “I think two times are quite enough,” she said. “I evidently owe you another meal to make up for the second insult.”

He started laughing. “That is not necessary,” he said. “But you could provide me with an escort to your father’s home. My companion and I might need your protection.”

She looked him over, noting the enormous broadsword at his side that probably weighed as much as she did. “Somehow I doubt that, but you are kind to say so,” she said. “I will escort you under one condition.”

“What is that?”

“That you do not tell my father I was rude to you. Twice.”

He fought off a grin. “You have my vow, my lady.”

“And you do not tell him what I told you about the dramas that I write.”

“You said only one condition. Now you must pick which one. Either he knows about your bad behavior or he knows about your clandestine activities. I cannot withhold both.”

He was clearly teasing her, fighting off a smile, and she sighed sharply. “If you tell him both, I will write you into my next drama and ensure you are killed off in the most painful way possible. I will set the de Wolfe hounds on you.”

He burst out laughing, flashing big, white teeth at her clever play on words. “God, not that,” he said. “Very well, then. At the risk of being a corpse in your next drama, I will not tell him either of those things. You have my promise.”

The ends of her mouth curled up. “Good,” she said. “We understand one another.”

“I think we are starting to.”

Her triumphant grin told him everything he needed to know, and it was a great pity. A pity he couldn’t continue this conversation and a pity he couldn’t come to know a woman who very quickly had his attention. Nearly