Epilogue
Ten years later
Castle Questing
He couldn’t get them off the crypts.
Gar had offered to take his sons outside into the sunshine, affording his pregnant wife some time to rest, but the boys were much different under their father’s control than under their mother’s.
Five young lads, all of them lively and full of life, and once their father took them outside, they ran straight to the chapel at Castle Questing because it was a place with things to climb on.
And that was what they were doing.
Climbing.
They reminded Gar very much of him and his own brothers when they were younger, and Troy laughed every time he saw Gar trying to control his gang of ruffians—and he especially laughed on this night when he went on the hunt for Gar because no one had seen him in a while.
Wandering out into the bailey, he followed the sounds of the shouting children to find Gar sitting on a bench that had been installed in the chapel, watching his children hide from one another.
“There you are,” Troy said. “Your wife was wondering where you were.”
Gar grinned as he looked up at his father. “Here,” he said, gesturing to the boys. “They wanted to visit Poppy and Matha, so here we are.”
Troy sat down next to Gar, watching Mak, Keith, Milo, Jasper, and Oliver chase each other around the crypts.
They were all dark-haired, all in the image of their father, except for Oliver, who very much favored his mother.
Still, they were a wild bunch that had exhausted their mother’s old dog so much that Winchester had gone back to Hensingham Castle to live out his elder years in peace with Mattie’s parents.
Peace was certainly nothing he’d get at Gleann na Fola these days.
“This is exactly where they need to be,” Troy said, eyeing his mother’s new crypt. The grief of her recent passing was still fresh for the family. “Matha should see what wild animals her Scots blood has created. They are only like this because of her.”
Gar started laughing. “But Mama is Scots, too,” he said. “It cannot all be Matha’s fault.”
Troy shrugged. “I tend to disagree,” he said. “Speaking of disagreement, I see you’re wearing those patchwork breeches again and I heard that your wife told you not to. Well?”
Gar was still grinning as he looked down at the breeches that had become a legend in his family.
“I wear them at every wedding, and proudly so,” he said.
“Mattie made these for me when we first met and I wore them at our wedding. They bring good fortune. I’ll tell you what I told her—I am bringing good fortune to the new couple by wearing them to their celebration. ”
Troy grunted. “Is that what you think?” he said. “They look terrible, Gar.”
“I do not care.”
Troy rolled his eyes at his stubborn son and those linen pants that had followed him around through the years. Everyone knew them. Everyone hated them. Everyone but Gar, that was. That being the case, no one could really fault him for being so attached to them.
It was rather sweet.
“Have it your own way,” Troy said. “But I did come out here for a reason. Evidently, Mattie is having pains and I have been sent to tell you.”
That news wiped the smile off Gar’s face. “The baby is coming?” he said, sounding concerned. “It is a little early for that.”
Troy lifted his big shoulders. “Babies come when they feel like it,” he said.
“You came almost a month before you were supposed to and you were quite well, so do not be concerned. Mattie is in good hands with Rhos and Avie and a host of other women. Mayhap we will have something more than a de Wolfe wedding to celebrate on this night.”
That was why they were at Castle Questing to begin with.
Edward de Wolfe’s son was marrying none other than Lady de Reyne’s former ward, Agnes de Witt, and Edward was adamant that the wedding be held at the de Wolfe seat, so there had been three days of celebration leading up to the marriage mass this morning.
The rest of the day had been a feast to end all feasts and Gar’s five children were so wound up on sweets and honey that he had gladly taken them off his wife’s hands so they could run off their excitement.
Still, he hadn’t intended for his sixth child to be born here.
“I did not want her to come, you know,” he said, unhappy.
“She is too close to delivering the child and I wanted her to remain at Gleann na Fola, but she would not hear of it. She insisted on coming to the wedding and bringing our coveted goat cheese as a gift. It is expected, you know. We don’t go anywhere without that damn cheese. ”
The Gleann na Fola goat cheese was indeed coveted.
He wasn’t wrong about that. The idea Mattie had those years ago had blossomed into something that made the castle a good deal of money and she was very proud of it.
Truth be told, so was he, and everywhere they went, every event they attended, people expected them to bring that wonderful cheese.
“It is rather tasty,” Troy said. “You cannot blame her. It is her cousin getting married, after all, and she wanted to celebrate with the family.”
“That about sums up the situation,” Gar said. “And now, here we are. Her determination to come to the wedding and bring cheese has brought on the birth of our child.”
Troy put his hand on his shoulder, struggling not to grin at the nervous father who was evidently blaming cheese for childbirth. “Not to worry,” he said. “She is receiving the best of care. You and I will remain out here with the boys while the women do their work.”
Gar wasn’t so sure about that. He wanted to see his wife now, to find out just how serious the situation was. “Will you mind the lads?” he said, standing up. “I want to see my wife.”
It was obvious that no amount of fatherly advice was going to ease him, so Troy waved him on. “Go,” he said. “I’ll make sure the boys do not kill one another.”
“They’re not savages, Papa.”
“That is up for debate.”
Gar frowned for a split second before breaking into a grin.
Troy was honest, if nothing else, and as Gar departed the chapel, he could hear a scream rise up from Jasper.
That was his five-year-old. If anyone was going to scream, it was Jasper.
He could hear Troy trying to figure out why Jasper was screaming, but he just kept walking.
He had a woman to see.
The keep of Castle Questing was an enormous, multistoried structure with close to fifty chambers.
The size of it was legendary. It had belonged to the Dudley family before it became the property of William de Wolfe, and William and Jordan had raised their family here.
Most of their grandchildren had been born here as well, and now, great-grandchildren were being born.
As Gar headed into the keep, he ran into guests for his cousin’s wedding and they all wanted to stop and chat.
Given that he wasn’t in the mood for idle conversation, Gar tried to be as polite as he could, pushing through the happy, drunk crowds until he spied a familiar face.
His Aunt Bridey.
Brighton de Wolfe was married to Patrick de Wolfe, both of whom were attending this wedding. Gar came up behind his aunt and kissed her on the cheek, capturing her attention.
“Gar!” Brighton gasped. She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and big blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for my wife,” he said. “I was outside with my lads, but Papa told me that she is having pains. Do you know where I may find her?”
Brighton nodded quickly. “That’s why I asked you what you were doing here, in the midst of this celebration, and not with your wife,” she said. Then, she pointed to the ceiling. “She is in Matha’s chamber. Your mother is with her.”
Gar thanked her and quickly headed up the stairs.
The enormous chamber that William and Jordan had shared was on the top floor, with a brilliant view of the bailey and the verdant countryside beyond.
Gar entered the chamber to find his mother, Aunt Avrielle, and two of his sisters standing around as Mattie sat on the end of the bed, speaking to them and seemingly in good spirits.
When Gar walked in, looking anxious, the women tittered at his expression.
“She’s not going tae explode, Gar,” Rhoswyn said. “But it seems as if yer new son is going tae make an appearance soon.”
Gar looked straight at Mattie. “How are you feeling?” he said, pushing past his mother to take Mattie’s hand and kiss it. “Are you in much pain? Do you need to lie down?”
Mattie grinned and squeezed his hand. “I am quite well,” she said. “The pains have started and my waters have broken, so it should not take long.”
He looked at her, confused and horrified. “Then why are you not lying down?” he demanded. “You must lie down, sweetheart. Please lie down.”
He was beginning to fuss and Mattie squeezed his hand again to calm him. “I am very well,” she assured him softly. “I do not need to lie down, I promise. I am content sitting for now.”
“But the baby is coming.”
He wasn’t going to let it go and Mattie sighed heavily at her nervous husband. “Very well,” she said. “Will you sit next to me and hold my hand if I lie down?”
He nodded. “I will,” he said, quickly taking the chair that his mother was pushing at him without releasing Mattie’s hand. He sat, looking at her apprehensively. “There. I’m sitting. You must lie down.”
Mattie did, but only because she’d told him she would. The women in the chamber went about preparing for the coming birth by fetching hot water and blankets and rags, for childbirth was a messy business. For the moment, they left Mattie and Gar alone; the pair were only focused on each other.
“Be calm, my love,” Mattie said. “There is really nothing to become upset over. I’ve done this five times before, so I know how to do it.”