Chapter Twelve #4
Stephen could sense the mood of the conversation turning grave.
“The soldier with the scar on his forehead saved my life upon the battlements that day,” he tried to sound as if he was not struggling with the conversation, which he was.
“I thanked him before I realized who it was. When I confronted him about your rape, he said that you were not virgin when he had taken you. He called you a whore so I killed him.”
Joselyn burst into quiet tears and hung her head. Stephen went to her, drawing her into his massive embrace and holding her tightly. He lay back on the bed, taking her with him, holding her while she wept. His lips were on her forehead as he spoke.
“He can no longer hurt you,” he murmured.
“I had to tell you what I had done so that you would not live in fear of seeing this man for the rest of your life. But know this, I would kill a thousand men just as easily in order to keep you safe and happy. You are the most important thing in the world to me.”
Her weeping increased and she lifted her head, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.
“I love you,” she murmured, tears on her lips as she kissed his face. “You are my angel and I love you more than life.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, holding her close and burying his face in her hair.
His attention was momentarily diverted as he realized that she didn’t feel as warm as she had earlier.
He felt a good deal of relief that her fever was apparently abating.
With that comfort, he moved on to the next piece of news he needed to deliver.
“There is something else you must know,” he said softly, pulling his face from her hair and focusing on her red-rimmed eyes. “You told me once that the child that was the result of the rape was fostering at Ettrick Castle. Do you recall?”
She nodded, sniffling. “His name is Cade.”
“I asked de Lara to fetch the boy. He is here at Berwick.”
Her eyes abruptly widening to titanic proportions as his words sank in. Her mouth popped open and in an instant, the tears were vanished. “He is here?” she breathed with shock.
“Aye,” Stephen replied steadily. “That is why I asked for your forgiveness. I should have asked you how you felt about a reunion with him but I did not. I had Tate go to Ettrick and bring the boy back to Berwick. He is your son, Joselyn, and because he is part of you, he is a part of me as well. With your approval, I should like to adopt the boy.”
She stared at him, the pale blue eyes wide with astonishment. “You would become his father?”
“If you will allow it.”
She continued to stare at him, overwhelmed.
There was so much amazement and delight in her heart that she could hardly contain or express it.
Her hands were on his cheeks, her pale blue eyes boring into him, as words of gratitude, amazement and blessing tumbled over and over in her mind.
It went beyond what she ever believed the man capable of. His graciousness was without measure.
“You honor me, Stephen,” she finally whispered, the emotion apparent in her eyes. “There are no words to express my love for you or the joy that is in my heart at the moment. To thank you seems wholly inadequate.”
He smiled faintly, touched by her reaction. “Then you approve?”
She nodded so strongly that her hair ended up in her eyes, throwing her arms around his neck again and holding him fast against her. Then she abruptly bolted off the bed.
“Where is he?” she demanded.
Stephen grabbed her by the wrist so she would not run wild.
“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he tried to force her to focus so he could finish telling her what he must. “Cade has no knowledge that you are his mother. He does not even know why he is here. It would be well for you both if we treat this very carefully. You must be gentle when you explain the circumstances of his parentage.”
Joselyn was in a haze of delirium, but she understood what Stephen was trying to tell her. Or, at least she thought she did. She nodded her head eagerly, struggling to control her excitement.
“I will tell him that I am his mother and he should be happy, don’t you think?” she said enthusiastically. She suddenly threw her arms around his neck again, knocking him off balance. “Oh, Stephen, thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
He coughed as she knocked him in the throat, torn between his caution and her joy. “Sweetheart,” he unwrapped her arms and held her still, fixing her in the eye. “You cannot go charging up to the boy and announce you are his mother. Do you understand that?”
She nodded eagerly but began jumping up and down. “Where is he?”
He sighed heavily. Her reaction was not what he had expected but he was pleased nonetheless.
There was also some satisfaction to it. He had told de Lara that he believed her maternal instincts to be stronger than those of the horrible memory the boy embodied.
He had known her well. Still, he knew she needed to calm down before he took her to see the boy.
He didn’t think it would bode well for either of them if she affectionately attacked the lad and scared him off.
He grasped her face gently and kissed her.
“Come along,” he said softly.
It was a struggle to get down the spiral stairs.
Joselyn was behind him, moving faster than he was, and he swore she would have run him down in her haste had he not had a good hold of her.
When they reached the entry level, he took her into the small solar where he had taken her the first time they had met.
This was the room where they had become acquainted with dark and short words to one another.
He forced her to sit on a stool near the hearth as he took a flint stone and sparked some life into a bit of dry kindling.
In little time, a warm fire was growing.
When he was certain the blaze would not flare out, he turned to his wife.
She was perched on the stool, gazing at him expectantly. He put a massive palm over her hands folded in her lap.
“I will bring the boy to you,” he said. “I want you to stay here and think calmly on what you are going to say to him.”
She nodded, trying to think on his words but realizing she was too excited to adequately do so.
She didn’t want to say the wrong thing. As he stood up to leave, she grabbed his fingers.
“I do not think I can be calm or emotionless when I speak with him,” she said, her gaze suddenly imploring.
“Do you think… that is, would you tell him for me? I think you would do a better job of it than I can at the moment.”
His cornflower blue eyes twinkled. “I will tell him if that is your wish.”
“It is.”
He simply nodded, squeezed her hand, and quit the room.
Joselyn heard his footsteps fade away, taking a deep breath and struggling to compose herself.
As the fire snapped in the hearth and the room warmed, all she could do was wait for the moment she had dreamed of for eleven years.
But she had never dreamed it would come about under these circumstances, not in her wildest fantasies.
Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and thanked God yet again for Stephen of Pembury.
In the dark dustiness of the bailey, Stephen made his way across the dirt towards the great gatehouse of Berwick.
He glanced upwards, noting the sentries on the battlements and the faint light from the torches illuminating their way.
All was quiet for the most part as he entered a small room on the ground floor of the gatehouse where the sentries usually congregated on cold nights.
There was a hearth, a small table and little else.
As soon as he entered the room which, with his bulk was no easy feat, he came face to face with a young boy seated at the table.
He would have known his wife’s eyes anywhere, for the boy most definitely had them.
Big, pale blue eyes gazed up at him anxiously and Stephen had to swallow his momentary shock.
The boy also possessed his wife’s fine features and he actually stared at the lad a moment, dumbfounded by the sight.
He was the spitting image of Joselyn. The child had dark auburn hair, long around his ears, and as he stood up, Stephen noticed that he was already taller than his mother.
He was a big, healthy lad. Stephen took a deep breath before speaking.
“You are Cade?” he asked.
The boy nodded. “I am, my lord,” he replied.
“I am Stephen. You will come with me.”
“Aye, my lord.” The boy’s handsome features twisted somewhat. “May I ask a question, my lord?”
“What is it?”
“Am I in trouble?”
Stephen suddenly realized how it must look to the child.
A big man came to take him from virtually the only home he had ever known, without explanation, and brought him to an unfamiliar castle with strangers all around.
Now another big stranger was making demands.
If the boy was frightened, he didn’t show it, which pleased Stephen immensely.
“Nay, lad,” he motioned for the boy to follow. “Gather your belongings and come with me.”
Cade scooped up his measly satchel and did as he was told.
He scampered after Stephen, walking very quickly to match Stephen’s big strides.
As Stephen strolled back to the keep, Cade was fascinated by his surroundings.
Ettrick Castle was not nearly as big as Berwick.
He was distracted by the dogs upon the battlements for a moment and had to run to catch up with Stephen as the man drew near the keep.