WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations Kathryn Veque (interesting books to read .TXT) 📖

waiting for her across the street from The Asher just after the nooning meal and he very much wanted to make that appointment. Quickly, he dug through his saddlebags to locate any spare clothing and he came across an older pair of breeches he always carried with him, made from fine leather but having faded and worn over the years.

It was of little matter because he had nothing else, so he pulled them on. Even though his door was closed, he could hear yelling and doors slamming all throughout the manse, and suddenly, there were footfalls in the corridor.

Someone pounded on his door.

“Dray!”

Andreas knew that voice. He yanked open the door, coming face to face with his Uncle Edward. He was the diplomat of the sons of William de Wolfe, the man who had followed in his famous grandfather’s footsteps by choosing a diplomatic career over a military one. Not to say that Edward de Wolfe wasn’t a warrior; he was, by nature, training, and blood. He was tall and broad-shouldered, regal and masculine and handsome, and from his father’s side carried the darkness of the Saracens. He had the de Wolfe dark hair and golden eyes, eyes that were now looking at Andreas in concern.

“What ails you?” Edward demanded. “You have the servants running mad upstairs, looking for clothing to fit you.”

Andreas sighed heavily. “I am sorry, Eddie,” he said. “I did not mean to throw them into fits, but I am late for an appointment that I must keep.”

“What appointment?”

Andreas cleared his throat softly, averting his gaze. “I am going across the river to see the entertainment over in Lambethmoor,” he said. “I have promised a young lady that I would escort her there.”

Edward went from being mildly perturbed to being most curious at the mention of a woman. “A young lady?” he repeated. “Who is this woman?”

“I met her last night,” Andreas said. “We had a long and eventful evening and I have offered to escort her across the river to see the entertainment there.”

Edward studied him for a moment. The man had a most calculating way of looking at people, something that served him well in the diplomatic corps. He could look at any man and, within a few moments, read him clearly. It was a gift.

He was trying to read Andreas at that moment.

“I see,” he said. “Dray, I must say that I am surprised. You of all people do not spend time with young women in social situations. Where did you meet her?”

Andreas looked at him hesitantly. “I am afraid to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are going to tell my father and he will tell my mother and she will try and box my ears.”

Edward fought off a grin. “I promise I will not tell him,” he said. “Tell me.”

Andreas rolled his eyes, still hesitant, before finally confessing. “It was Theodis’ fault, so do not yell at me,” he said. “Tay took us all there – me and Will and Tor.”

“Took you where?”

“Gomorrah.”

Edward’s eyes widened. “That place?” he hissed. “You went to that place?”

Andreas nodded. “And it was just as awful as you think it is,” he said, putting up his hands. “Believe me, I shall not be returning. In fact, the young lady was coerced into attending by cousins. She was just as miserable and horrified as I was, so I helped her find her way out of that place. That place is like a goddamn maze.”

Edward nodded. “I know,” he said, his eyes alight that his noble, straitlaced nephew should go to such a lascivious establishment. He started to chuckle but put a hand over his mouth to stop himself. “God’s Bones, Dray. I’m proud of you for going to such a place. Mayhap there is hope for you yet.”

Andreas frowned. “Leave me alone,” he muttered. “I need my clothes or I’ll never make my appointment. Aunt Cassie isn’t angry at me for upsetting her home, is she?”

Edward shook his head. “She is not,” he said. “I stopped the servants from making too much of a fuss before she caught sight of what was going on, so do not fret.”

Andreas scratched his head. “Do not tell her that I went to Gomorrah.”

“I will not, I swear it. That might lead to a confession that I have been there, too, and I have no desire to be angrily chased around by my wife today.”

There wasn’t much of an age gap between Andreas and Edward because Andreas was the eldest son of Edward’s much older brother, so even growing up, the two of them had been good friends, something that still carried over to this day. That was why Andreas didn’t even address the man as “Uncle”. There was a scant three years between them.

“You have been there, you naughty lad?” he said, grinning suggestively. “I’m shocked.”

Edward held up a hand. “Only in the line of duty, I assure you,” he said with disgust. “We had a particular Bohemian warlord, very wealthy, who had been told of it by his interpreter and he wanted very badly to attend, so the king asked me to go with him to ensure he did not run into any trouble.”

“Did he?”

Edward cocked a dark eyebrow. “Did you see that woman shooting grapes out of her privates?”

Andreas couldn’t help it; he started laughing. “I did,” he said. “Appalling and hilarious at the same time.”

Edward clapped a hand to his forehead. “Our Bohemian warlord spent an hour in that chamber, catching grapes in his mouth. I have never seen anything so ghastly in my entire life. And then I had to explain it to the king. Edward laughed until he choked. I think he went to see for himself.”

Andreas was still chuckling as servants suddenly appeared, running in his direction bearing clothing and boots, all belonging to Edward. Andreas was bigger and heavier than Edward, so the tunic was a little snug and the boots a little tight, but they would do. They were clean and well-maintained. Over it, he pulled on