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

Mayhap I shall bring my father with me. Troy de Wolfe is not a man to be refused, in any case. Besides… a woman like that would be wasted as a nun. God has enough women to serve him. Mayhap he will let me have this one.”

Theodis drained his cup and slammed it to the table, grabbing for the wine pitcher. “Stop telling us all of the unexciting details,” he said, pouring himself more wine. “Tell us the most important things, lad – did you kiss her and was it good?”

Andreas chuckled at his tactless friend. “I did and it was,” he said. “But nothing scandalous or shocking, I assure you. A simple kiss to the hand. And her cheek. I think I kissed her neck, too. Probably her lips.”

Theodis rolled his eyes. “It sounds as if you kept missing the target,” he said. “Dray, you are a fool. Do I need to instruct you on how to kiss a woman?”

“Not now.” Edward joined the table, putting his hand on Theodis’ shoulder and squeezing hard enough to make the man wince. “We are about to be joined by womenfolk, including my wife, and she’ll belt you in the mouth if you say anything offensive in front of her daughters, so please keep the conversation civilized.”

Andreas, Will, and Tor snorted at Theodis, who had to rub his shoulder where Edward squeezed it as the man sat down between him and Andreas.

“Of course, my lord,” Theodis said, eyeing Edward unhappily. “Civilized conversation only, I swear it.”

A smile played on Edward’s lips as he reached for the wine pitcher and poured himself a measure. His wife appeared with their two eldest daughters, Helene and Phoebe, who were now old enough to be allowed to sit at the feasting table with the adults while their younger siblings were fed in their chambers by their nurse.

At twelve and ten years of age, respectively, they were a dark-haired reflection of their father, except for Helene, who had hazel eyes through her mother. Helene sat down next to Andreas, her cousin, and he tended to her quite sweetly, as he always did with his younger female cousins.

All of them loved “Dray” very much.

“Dray?” Edward said softly. “What is it? What are you thinking of?”

Andreas hadn’t realized he was staring at Helene, who had been named for his mother by her only surviving sister, Edward’s wife. He smiled faintly, watching Helene’s delicate profile as she tore up a piece of bread.

“I don’t really know,” he said. “I suppose I was wondering how much Helene looks like my mother. Eddie… I can’t even remember what she looked like. Sometimes I see her in my dreams and she is petite and blonde and I can hear that silly giggle she had. Do you remember that?”

Edward nodded faintly, looking at his nephew who never spoke of his mother. “I do,” he said. “I remember Troy slapping his hand over her mouth to quiet her.”

Andreas’ gaze lingered on Helene for a moment before turning back to his wine. “I wish he hadn’t done that,” he said. “He should have let her laugh. He should have let her laugh all she wanted considering that laughter was silenced all too soon. I wonder… I wonder if you can tell me what she looked like. Do you remember?”

Edward’s gaze turned serious. Sad, even. The conversation had taken a swift and unexpected turn, and he could tell that Andreas had imbibed a good deal of wine because the usually quiet man was not only speaking up, he was being emotional about it. Helene was a very touchy subject in the de Wolfe and de Norville households.

But he answered him.

“I remember,” he said. “She was short and had blonde hair and big blue eyes. You inherited your eyes from her, in fact. You favor your mother a great deal.”

Andreas didn’t say anything for a moment as he tried to picture his mother in his mind. “Did you see her after she died?” he asked. “When she had been brought back to Castle Questing after she drowned, I mean. Did you see her then? And my sisters?”

The conversation had taken an even darker turn. It had gone from light and happy to serious and gloomy very quickly. Edward knew that Andreas was drunk, perhaps not terribly, but drunk enough to ask questions he wouldn’t normally ask.

Edward cleared his throat softly.

“We shall speak of it at another time, Dray,” he said quietly. “I want to hear more about this young lady you spent the afternoon with. Was it pleasant?”

“Did you see my mother, Eddie?” he asked, ignoring Edward’s question. “I have never asked you that. I do not know why. I suppose I did not want to know, but that was years ago. You can tell me now.”

Edward pondered the question. On the other side of the table sat Will and Tor, who had lost their mother in the same accident. They, too, were listening to the answer of a question neither one of them had ever asked, either. They had all been young men, off fostering when the accident happened, and their mothers had been buried by the time they made it home to grieve. Perhaps Andreas’ question mattered, perhaps it didn’t, but they were listening nonetheless. Andreas’ focus on young Helene had him thinking about the mother he had lost.

“Dray,” he said quietly. “There are three other people at this table who consider this a sensitive topic, not the least of which is my wife. We’ll discuss this at another time.”

Andreas understood. He sighed faintly, looking at young Helene, who was buttering her bread and oblivious to the conversation the adults were having. As Andreas simply nodded and took another drink of wine, Edward spoke softly.

“Aye, I saw her,” he muttered for Andreas’ ears only. “I helped bring her into the house when the soldiers brought her back from the accident. I helped lay her on the floor of Poppy’s solar. She looked as if she were sleeping,