WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,58

stood there and frowned at him as he drank it and smacked his lips. Perhaps she was thinking about berating him, but he was saved from a lashing when Tor and Blayth appeared.

Then, Barbara forgot all about Ronan and Lenore forgot all about the covered bread.

After that, no one else, and nothing else, in the hall existed to them but Tor.

“Welcome home, Tor,” Barbara said, indicating the fine wine on the tables. “Please sit. Surely you must rest and relax after your harrowing adventure. We heard all about it.”

Tor barely glanced at her, but that was usual. The women were fixtures in his home but that was all. He didn’t even really consider them family members. Simply Jane’s sisters, his obligations. Never let it be said that Tor de Wolfe hadn’t fulfilled his wife’s dying wish.

He sat at the table and Blayth with him.

“It was simply a task,” he said with disinterest. “What food do you have for us?”

Barbara was pouring the wine into fine pewter cups. “We butchered the old sow,” she said. “I have pork with beans cooking, boiled carrots, peas, stewed apples, and bread. I will have the servants bring it out.”

She waved at Lenore, who promptly called to the servants. Guests had arrived and the food was to be presented, so the sisters went into full chatelaine mode. As Blayth commented on the delicious wine, Barbara interrupted the conversation.

“We heard what happened to Steffan de Featherstone,” she said as if there were no one else in the room. “What you did was a brave and noble thing, Tor. We are very proud of you.”

Tor looked at her. “You will not speak of that here,” he said. “In fact, you will not speak of it at all. It is none of your affair, Barbara. Please keep silent on it.”

Barbara lowered her head, properly rebuked, but coming from Tor, it didn’t even sound like he was scolding her because he said it in such a way that it sounded more like a request. The man didn’t get worked up over anything, not even a statement that rudely interrupted his conversation with his uncle.

“Of course,” she said. “My apologies.”

“Please make sure the food is brought to us and then you may leave.”

Barbara wasn’t offended; that was usual with Tor. They rarely all ate together. “As you wish,” she said. “Do you require anything else?”

Tor shook his head, about to wave her off, but he suddenly stopped. “Possibly,” he said. “Are all of the chambers in the apartments prepared?”

Barbara paused thoughtfully. “Not all of them,” she said. “We usually keep them void of bedding when not in use so that the rats do not nest. Why do you ask?”

Tor picked up his cup. “Because we shall have visitors in the next few days,” he said, but he turned to Blayth as he continued. “I have invited Gilbert de Featherstone and his daughter to visit.”

Blayth’s eyebrows lifted. “They would visit the man who had a hand in Steffan’s death?”

Tor shrugged. “I did not tell them that part,” he said. “I only told them that Steffan was killed when he tried to kill Alexander. I did not say who delivered the death blow.”

“Ah,” Blayth said. “Then he does not know.”

“He does not.”

“But why invite him here?”

Tor took a drink of his wine before answering. “Because the man seemed genuinely horrified at his son’s behavior,” he said. “His knight was positive that the House of de Wolfe would seek some kind of retribution for it. They both seemed very worried about it and apologized profusely for Steffan’s behavior. I received the impression that both Gilbert and his knight were decent men. Steffan seems to have mistreated his father terribly. I thought mayhap an invitation to sup here would ease their fears that we are going to take our armies and burn them to the ground. Moreover, they are close to Blackpool and I am always willing to make an ally.”

Blayth didn’t think that sounded strange. “That is not a bad idea,” he said. “But you should probably be honest with the man and tell him you are the one who actually killed his son. Better to hear it from you than from someone else. You were not the only man in the tavern that night, and word can get around.”

Tor conceded the point. “True enough,” he said. “I will tell him myself.”

“That is wise,” Blayth said. “You mentioned a knight. Who is it?”

“Someone by the name of Fraser le Kerque,” Tor said, sipping