have been possible.”
Gilbert’s attention turned to Blayth. “That being the case, my lord, you will understand that this betrothal was taken from my family,” he said. “If anyone should feel wronged, it should be me. My son could have married into the House of de Wolfe, but that chance was taken from me. Your men killed my son before he was given a chance to mend his ways.”
Blayth grunted and looked away, wanting to tell the man how ridiculous he was and struggling to refrain.
“I suppose it could be viewed that way,” Blayth said, irritated. “But the reality is that your son ran. He did not have to run in the first place, so do not make this out like he was a noble lad set upon by the de Wolfe pack. He ran and was punished for it.”
Gilbert was fixed on him, unblinking. “But he was never given the chance to mend his ways.”
“He never gave us the chance to speak with him!”
Gilbert’s gaze moved between Blayth and Tor. “A beneficial betrothal was taken from me,” he said. “My son was taken from me. I only have my daughter left and considering everything that has happened at the hands of the House of de Wolfe, I demand satisfaction. You took one betrothal away from me and I demand another.”
Tor frowned, perplexed. “You want another betrothal?”
Gilbert was focused intently on him. “You are the common element in all of this, Tor de Wolfe,” he said. “My son’s death, and now my daughter being set upon by your wards. You owe me.”
Tor’s eyebrows lifted. “Me? I do?”
“I demand a betrothal between you and my daughter. You have much to make up to my family.”
Tor’s mouth popped open, his initial reaction one of outrage. But just as quickly, he shut his mouth. He wasn’t a man given to whims or fits of aggression, so he took a moment to digest what Gilbert had said as Blayth began to condemn Gilbert’s suggestion for being outrageous and idiotic.
But not Tor.
A marriage to Isalyn.
God help him… as he thought on it, he realized that it wasn’t an unattractive proposal.
“Tor,” Blayth said, interrupting his thoughts. “You had better speak up, lad. Your future is at stake here.”
Tor looked at his uncle a moment before finally looking at Gilbert, who was standing stiffly with his arms folded across his chest. Tor could tell just by looking at him how serious he was. He had stated his position and he was going to dig in against any opposition.
But perhaps there wouldn’t be any.
In fact, Tor was at a sort of crossroads – he had never expected to remarry after Jane’s death, nor had he wanted to. He’d never even considered it and it had never entered his mind where it pertained to Isalyn.
Certainly, he’d responded to her more than any other woman since Jane. In fact, he couldn’t even remember responding this quickly to Jane. His relationship with dear Jane had been something of a slow burn, from the time they met as children until the time they were of marriageable age. He’d had years to warm up to the idea of marrying Jane.
But with Isalyn, it had barely been a few days. He’d just met her and, already, the idea of marriage between them had been brought up, by her father no less. Tor wasn’t one to act impulsively, and he didn’t consider this an impulse, but he had the ability to think about his life in a year, in five years, and even ten years and wonder what it would be without a good woman by his side.
Without Isalyn by his side.
He didn’t like the look of a future without her.
Perhaps he’d only known her a matter of days, but he trusted his gut where she was concerned. He liked the way she’d handled Barbara and Lenore. He liked the way she’d handled herself in the fight in Haltwhistle. He’d seen some life-changing situations with her over the past few days and throughout it all, Isalyn had been composed, thoughtful, and brave.
Very brave.
That was the kind of woman he wanted to be married to.
“My lord,” he finally said, scratching his head thoughtfully. “Your argument about Steffan being given the opportunity to mend his ways is hollow. We all know he never, at any time, would have considered returning to Isabella, so I reject your notion that he could have possibly changed his mind. Had you seen him at The Black Bull in Newcastle, you would have