WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,51

useful.”

Isabella frowned at her father. “Doing what?”

“I don’t care what. Play in the mud for all I care. Throw rocks at each other. Just go away.”

Isabella’s frown deepened. “Father, this discussion concerns me. I wish to stay.”

Blayth didn’t say a word. He simply pointed to the keep, silently directing her to leave, and Ronan took her by the arm and dragged her away. But it wasn’t without resistance and Isabella struggled and complained the entire time, at least until they were out of earshot. She just didn’t think she needed to leave and was quite angry about it.

Blayth shook his head.

“She’s worse than her mother ever was,” he muttered. “She acts just like her grandmother, Jemma, at times. God help us.”

Tor smiled faintly as he looked at his uncle. Born James de Wolfe, twin of Katheryn, he was blond, bright, powerful, and handsome. He had been a fine tribute to the House of de Wolfe until he died. At least, that had been the belief for five long years. James and the rest of the de Wolfe knights had gone into Wales and been in an ambush where James had been struck down.

Because of the dangerous conditions, he’d been left behind, felled by a morning star that had caved in the left side of his helm. William de Wolfe had been forced to leave his boy behind with the strict belief that he had left a body, but the truth was that James had been alive.

Saved by a Welsh warlord, James had been strong enough to overcome a horrific head injury, but the cost was the loss of his memory. He had been healed by the Welsh with no memory of who he was and the Welsh called him the Welsh word for “wolf” because it seemed to be the only word James could remember. Blaidd, or phonetically pronounced Blithe or Blayth, became his name. James de Wolfe had transformed into a scarred, rugged Welsh warrior who had returned to his family purely by chance.

But that had been twenty years ago. He’d come home a different man in many ways, but the heart of him was still a de Wolfe. His memory had gradually come back but it had taken many years. There were still things he didn’t remember, and he’d married in Wales because he didn’t remember that he already had a wife, but it had all worked out in the end. His first wife and Isabella’s mother, Rose Hage, had remarried to good man named Owen le Mon who served at Castle Questing while Blayth commanded Roxburgh Castle.

The dynamics had been a little strange, that was true. It wasn’t often a man came back from the dead and found himself with two wives. But Blayth’s Welsh wife, Asmara, and Rose had gotten on splendidly from the beginning and there had been nothing strained. Ronan and Isabella, children of James and Rose, had been raised lovingly by two sets of parents for the most part. They called Owen “Papa” and Blayth “Father”, and in the case of Isabella’s reluctant fiancé, Owen had deferred to Blayth completely.

And that was where they were at this moment. Tor could see that Blayth was in full angry-father mode simply by looking at him.

“So,” Tor said quietly. “You want to know why I killed Steffan.”

Blayth looked at him, folding his big arms over his chest. “I know why you killed him,” he said in his deliberate speech, the result of his head injury. “I cannot say that I blame you, lad, but surely there had to be another way. Did you have to kill him?”

Tor shook his head. “Nay, there was not another way,” he said firmly. “You know how it is in battle, Uncle Blayth. You know that you only have a split-second to make a decision, and that was all the time I had. It was either Steffan or Alexander, and I was not going to watch Steffan kill my half-brother. I am sorry if you are angry with me for it, but that is the truth. I would kill any man who tried to harm my younger half-brothers.”

Blayth sighed faintly. “I understand, I suppose,” he said. “But Steffan… damn the man…”

Tor could hear the distress in his tone. “Honestly, Uncle Blayth,” he said with some passion. “Do you really want a man like Steffan married to your daughter? He ran from her, for Christ’s sake. And you were going to force him to return and marry her? Do you really wish