Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (26 page)

BOOK: Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves
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admitted.Father Pierre smiled with more amusement than

reassurance. “Then, my son, I feel you were visited by the hand of God in that. Many men try for most of their lives to produce offspring. Perhaps God was testingyour convictiononthe matter ofyour choice witha man.”

Gaston nodded with a thoughtful frown. “I have been thinkingthat.”
Father Pierre nodded solemnly. “Then you have learned what perhaps He wished to instruct; and you have brought two childreninto the world that He surelywanted.”
He looked to me. “That kind of discussion—the matter of matelotage as marriage—is not one I dared engage in with your Monsieur Theodore.”
“Ah,” I said. “Oui, I do not know how he would accept

it.” “Dominic was my closest friend until…” Father Pierre

sighed. “He could not accept it. Not for religious reasons: non, he is an atheist, and I fear for his soul because he is surely beyond the ability to embrace God now. I can only hope God willforgive him. But non, he simply hates sodomy. He views it as anabomination. I know not why.”

He looked to Gastonwithcuriosity.

My matelot met his gaze with a shaking head. “The reasonfor his disapprovalwas not a thinghe ever told me.”
“I think he loved you,”I said.
Father Pierre gave a sharp intake of breath and my

matelot sighed; seeming to release the same breath back into the

 

matelot sighed; seeming to release the same breath back into the

 

world.“I have heard that fromothers,” Father Pierre said. “It is

said that Dominic wished to control Lord Montren, and that he wished to keep the moneyfromthe Marquis. I do not believe the part about the money so much, but Dominic was quite set upon Lord Montrenfollowinginhis footsteps.”

I managed, by sheer dint of will, to keep the grimace at hearing the lie I had concocted from my face. “We have heard that as well,”I said carefully. “I also do not think it was about the money.”

Gaston was looking toward the cross. Thankfully the good father had not beenlookingat him, as mymatelot had been less successfulinschoolinghis features thanI felt I had been.

“I wish to apologize to you both for my part in those events,”Father Pierre said.
Gaston turned back to him and said quickly. “I do not blame you.”
“Thank you, but I should have realized…” Father Pierre sighed. “I thought Dominic knew best. I still feel he meant no harm. He truly thought the method he would employ was in your best interests.”
“Did youknow what he would do?”I asked.
Father Pierre shook his head. “I only learned the details ofhis
cure
after allwas said and done.”He looked to Gaston. “I amtrulysorry.”
Mymatelot nodded and looked away.
“So,” Father Pierre said into the awkward silence, “You

wish to do right by these children God saw fit to deliver to you.”

wish to do right by these children God saw fit to deliver to you.” His brow furrowed and he turned a little to regard the cross over his shoulder. He turned back to us. “I am in a quandary. I view your intention as admirable and proper, but your method as disagreeable and unfortunate. I do not blame either of you,
per se
. I amsaddened by the hypocrisy and dogma that prevents the Church fromacknowledging your marriage, and thus making the other necessary; and that without marriage, those two children are bastards and not awarded the protection of law and Church. Thus there must be a lie under the circumstances.”

“My goal is not to lie to God about it,” I said quickly. “Allothers be hanged.”
He chuckled. “Spokenlike a true heretic.”
“He does that often,” Gaston said with subtle amusement.
“So you intend to accept this woman Vines’ claim of marriage?” the father asked. “Do you intend to lie with her ever again?”
“Non,”Gastonassured himemphatically.
“And what of the other girl: the mother of your son?” he shook his head sadly. “It is a poor thing that you cannot adopt him for your family’s sake; but no member of the Church in his right mind would accede to that request if they knew how you live—or learned ofit.”
“Oui,” Gaston said. “I feel my family name dies with me. That is if my father does not disown me—again. As for Agnes, we would have Willmarryher so that mysonhas a name.”
Father Pierre snorted. I was not sure if it was elicited by Gastontalkingofhis father, or Agnes.
Gastontalkingofhis father, or Agnes.
He looked to me. “You are a lord, are you not? Or were. Monsieur Theodore told me some of that.” His gaze turned curious.
I took a deep breath and told him succinctly of Shane, myfather’s hatred ofsodomy, and myrecent travails.
He listened in sympathetic silence. When I finished, he said, “I amsorry, my son. I see why you turned fromGod. But I see allthe more whyyoumust struggle to returnto Him.”
I sighed. “IfHe is the God ofheretics like ourselves, then I do not see that as a matter ofdifficulty. But…”I gestured at the church around us. “I cannot abase myself before the Church. I cannot abandon truth and love in the name of dogma and misguided law.”
“Lying to another man is a little thing compared to lying to God,” he said with a quirked smile. “I do not suggest you lie to your fellow men; but I have found peace in it, in that it allows me to continue to live and do good work inthis world—and I do not believe God hates me for it.”
I shook my head sadly. “I was willing to do that very thing in order to assist my man in gaining his inheritance—until those weeks on that ship. Now, I do not think I can. Not in good faith—withGod.”
Yet, here I was, feelingI was lyingto this maneverytime I uttered the name of the divine in the singular. It did not sit well withme, but we needed this man.
“Then I commend you,” he said sincerely. “You are a braver manthanI.”
I sighed. “But I do not feel I ama better man. Perhaps I
I sighed. “But I do not feel I ama better man. Perhaps I amas selfish as some have accused. You, at least, leave yourself free to offer aid where you can—for years to come. I will likely die fightingdragons.”
“Sometimes God needs dragon fighters,” he said carefully.
I smiled. “You have given me much to think on. I thank youfor your trust and candor.”
“As I do you,” he said with a warm smile. “I agree to performthe marriage betweenyouand Mademoiselle Agnes.”
“Thank you, that willbe a great relieffor allinvolved.”
“Oui, thank you,” Gaston said, and then his tone sobered. “I would make formal confession tomorrow. To you— alone.”
I fought the urge to frown: I did not like the sound of that. It was as troublingas his kneelingand praying.
Father Pierre nodded. “If you wish, I will be happy to accept it. I will let you know if the timing of your arrival is… difficult.”
We stood, and I felt moved to embrace him in parting. He returned it withreassuringwarmthand solidity.
Gaston and I soon stumbled back into the hot and humid

night. “Will you confess everything—since your last

 

confession?”I asked inwhispered English.

He shook his head and replied in kind. “Nay, I will confess sins that pertain to me. I will trust that man with my sins, but not those that might harmmyfather or family.”

I nodded my understanding. “Do you believe in the
Devil?”
I nodded my understanding. “Do you believe in the Gaston frowned. “Nay. Not as a being. Why do you

 

ask?” “I feel religion is one of those things you spent great

 

thought upon whilst I frolicked; and I wish to know if we are still inharmonyinour beliefs, perhaps.”

He grinned. “I feel the Gods sent that priest to us for a reason:because Theyare benevolent. And I believe his God,”he pointed toward the church, “is but a face of many. Believe me, Will, I amnot in disagreement on anything I have heard you say onthe matter. IfI become so, we willdiscuss it.”

I was relieved; until I thought on all I perhaps had not said. Perhaps there was muchwe should discuss, but not tonight. I teased, “Well, youdid not tellme about Pete.”

He appeared stricken, and then he snorted and shook his head. “Never again,” he muttered as he led me into the hospital.

There were thankfully still voices in the atrium. I had feared the others had departed. We emerged into the soft lantern light to find Theodore, Rucker, and our cabal—save Pete— entrenched about the table over tankards of wine. The women were not to be seen, though. The menregarded our arrivalwitha mixture ofcuriosityand pleasure.

“Did that priest find ya?”Liamasked.

“Aye,” I said, “and we spoke with Father Pierre. At lengthand to good result,”I added to Theodore.
He slumped with relief, but he asked, “How did you manage that?”
He appeared happyinhis cups, but not adrift. “Willis quite charming,”Gastonsaid withamusement.
“Aye, but I find it hard to believe that would suffice in this instance,”Theodore said.
“Believe what you will,” I told him. “He will marry me to Agnes.”
“Well, damn,”Theodore said.
Gaston and I exchanged a look and a grin as he tossed me a bottle fromthe side table. Then we sat as was our wont, in a single chair with me at the front and him sandwiched between me and the back.
He embraced me and nuzzled my neck. “I love you,” he whispered.
“And I you,” I whispered, and turned enough to kiss the corner ofhis mouth.
I turned back to the others and gave Liam an inquiring

look. He was lazy-eyed with wine, but he caught my meaning.

“I tol’ ’em.”
“You’re madmen,” Cudro rumbled jovially. “But that
goes without saying.”
“Aye, aye,” I said with good humor. “Pete has already
lectured us sternly on the avoidance of the squishy hole and the
trouble it causes.”
They laughed, Striker among them, and I looked to him.
He seemed uncertain at first as to whether to meet my gaze, and
thenhe sighed and regarded me withresignation.
“We must talk,”I told himquietly.
“Not now,”he sighed and hefted a bottle.
“Nay, whenyouare sober,”I assured him.
“Did Pete tellyouhow rare that is?”he countered. “Allright, now,”I challenged.
Gaston brushed a kiss on my ear and I squeezed his
hand as I stood.
Allhad gone silent and watchful.
Striker sighed witha great show ofresignationand stood
languidly. “Fine.”
We made our wayinto the libraryto stare at one another
for a time. He leaned ona bookcase, I leaned onthe table. I was
judging his sobriety. I thought it likely he was not so drunk he
could not be reasoned with—especially since all I had smelled
was wine.
“Youwilllose Pete,”I said.
He started, but ire did not light his eyes. “I know,” he
said sadly. “I know. Will, it’s for the best.”
“Is it? Are youhappywithSarah?”
He chewed on his lip and studied the book spines on the
shelf beneath his shoulder. “I… want to sail, but I can’t leave

her.” “So you will drink yourself to death and abandon her

witha clear conscience?”
“Damn you,” he said. “How can I leave her with all
that’s happened? Your father could send menagainat anytime.” I frowned at that. It was a valid threat. My sister’s
challenge about Gastonbeinginperilstillsat heavyonmychest if
I listened to it.
I sighed. “What if my father were no longer a threat?
Would yousailthen?”
“Aye!” he said quickly, but then he frowned thoughtfully.
“Not to rove as Pete wishes, though. There’s money to be made
as a merchant, and it’s less dangerous. And the word from
France is that there will be a treaty soon: no more privateering.
So… EvenifI have what I want, it won’t be what Pete wants.” “Perhaps Pete doesn’t know what he wants quite yet.”
But Pete was all Horse, and that was a forlorn hope. “And
perhaps you are correct,” I admitted sadly. “But be that as it
may, whether you stay with him or not, living as a drunkard is a
damn foolthing to do. And I think you know it. And you are not
as youare inport whenyouare at sea.”
That raised his ire. “I know, Will. We’ve been waiting –
on you. What are you going to do about your father? Run off
and hide againwhile the rest ofus sit here like targets?” His words were those of a man sloshing about in his
cups – and much the same as my sister’s. I knew well what they
had allspent their time discussinginour absence.
“Oh Bloody Hell,” I sighed. “I just had this discussion
with your wife—and Pete. We cannot go off half-cocked in this
matter. And aye, I amscared of him. I don’t want anyone to die
over
my
problem. Your lives have been upended enough over
the matter. His life—or death—is not worthanyone else’s.” “Well, then you need to solve your problem,” he
challenged. “Not get mired in babies and wives and cooing and
cuddling your matelot. Ifyou truly care one whit about any ofus,
you’llsee to it that we’re no longer indanger.”
He was so correct it scalded mysoul, yet…
“Would you die for it?” I demanded. “Would you go
there and walk into his study and put a pistolto his head and fire
—knowing you would never escape and you would hang? It is
your problem, too. You married her. Even if I were dead, he
would still be after you—as would Shane. If you would truly
choose that method, then why have you sat here awash in rum
for sixmonths? Youcould have solved it allmonths ago.” “I amnot a coward,”he spat.
“Neither am I,” I growled. “I just want to live. I do not
want to spend my life—to squander my life—ending his. What
does that solve? He wins as a martyr. His mad sodomite son
was seduced by the Devil and killed him. And he will have
accomplished his goal of making me miserable. He will have
literallyruined mylife.
“Striker, there are times when I envision himdying ofold
age, miserable every waking moment and even haunted in his
dreams bythe knowledge that he failed to ruinme and that I was
alive somewhere and happily fucking my matelot. I think that
would be the finest revenge; but I do not think I can have it
because he does pose sucha danger to us all.”
He slid down the shelves with a dejected mien, the anger
washed away for the moment once again. “Why do you think I
drink?”he mumbled.
ThoughI knew his intent rhetorical, I answered sincerely.
“Because you like to worry and wallow in duty and the opinions
of others, and you cannot continence the madness those things
can bring if unchecked and unbalanced: so you seek to drown it

—to drownyour thoughts.”

 

—to drownyour thoughts.”

He frowned up at me. “You’re the one who thinks too much.”
I was overcome with disappointment in him—and irony inwhat I now felt to be the truthonthat matter. “Aye, and I ama fool. Aye, Aye. It is well known.” I left him with a dismissive wave and joined the others.
Gaston was regarding me with curiosity and concern, and the rest were oddly quiet. I thought it not due to the lateness ofthe evening. I wondered what theyhad heard.
I did not seek to take my seat with Gaston: I stood and addressed them. “I have gathered from several conversations today that many here feel my first order of business would—or should—be to muster anattack uponmyfather inEngland.”
The tables were filled with quiet curses, frowns, nods, head shakes, and a few gazes becoming transfixed by the contents of a cup. Gaston’s Horse was glaring at them with annoyance. I left himto it and forged on.
“I know myfather poses a threat to us all, but… damnit, you must know he poses a threat even if he is dead. Even if I killed him—and hung for it, the wolves—the King’s wolves and other nobles—would root out my
conspirators
, and you would all be in even greater peril. I am sorry your lives have been thrown into turmoil by your association with me. You are our dear friends, and I would not have anyharmbefallyou. But…”
I paused, suddenly sure the next words I wished to utter would be folly ifspoken.
But I will not lay down my life to kill him, even if it would save you.

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