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  It was a plea spoken from the soul, something that meant so much to him coming from a woman who had spent her entire life antagonizing him or insulting him, in one way or another. But that part of her seemed to be gone, replaced by a good and true heart. Kieran had spoken of it, of this goodness that Paris couldn’t see until now.

  He saw it clearly.

  The glimmer was back in his eyes as he looked at her. After a moment, a weak smile crossed his lips.

  “I lied to you, you know,” he said.

  “What did ye say?”

  “I promised I would never call you Banshee again. I lied.”

  “I know.”

  A smile pulled at his lips. “I’ll try not to do it again.”

  “Ye just lied again.”

  He laughed softly. “It seems that you know me well, Lady Hage,” he said. Then, his smile faded. “Are you truly accepting of your widowhood? What I mean to say is… would you rather be alone? If that is the case, all you need do is tell me. I will not bring it up again.”

  Jemma shrugged. “If I only wanted a companion, I would get a goat.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  She giggled. “But I canna have a conversation with a goat,” she said. Then, she shook her head as if baffled by the entire thing. “Paris, why on earth would ye want tae keep company with an old woman like me? I’m old and I’m round. I’m not the lass I once was.”

  “Nor am I the man I once was. We are even.”

  Her eyes glimmered as she looked him over. “Ye look the same tae me.”

  “And you look the same to me. You are still pretty.”

  “That is good tae know.”

  “May we continue conversations on the subject of keeping company with one another, then?”

  She nodded. “If ye think we can without trying tae kill one another.”

  “We just did, right now.”

  “Aye, but it came close.”

  He nodded, acknowledging the truth. “Mayhap if we practice a little, we can overcome our usual reaction to one another,” he said. “We’ve never had that opportunity, not in all the years we’ve known each other.”

  “We can certainly try.”

  “Good,” he said, grinning. “I’ll go see what happened to the wine I sent for. I shall return.”

  Jemma simply nodded. Paris turned for the entry once more, but not before he gave her a wink before disappearing through the door.

  Returning to her sewing, Jemma just sat there and grinned.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Does Alec know about this?” Nathaniel Hage asked. “I think this is foolish. I cannot believe you would encourage Mother into this… this folly.”

  In the great hall of Castle Questing, now devoid of children after the meal had passed, Cassiopeia and Moira were facing off against a surprisingly angry brother. His anger had Cassiopeia offended.

  “My father is not a folly, Nat,” she said sternly. “And who is to say this is foolish? My father and your mother are adults. If they think it is foolish, then it is their decision, not yours.”

  Nathaniel was the one child of Jemma and Kieran that had inherited their mother’s fiery personality. As a child, people would tell him that it was the “Scots” in him and it would only make him more furious. At this moment, however, the Scots was taking over.

  “Where are they?” he demanded. “I saw Uncle Paris go into the garden. Is she out there with him?”

  Moira put herself in front of her younger brother. He was more than a head taller than she was, a muscular warrior like their father had been, but she wasn’t afraid of him.

  She blocked his path.

  “Aye, she’s out there,” she said steadily. “And you leave them alone, Nathaniel Hage. If they decide not to keep company with each other, that is for them to decide – not you.”

  Nathaniel frowned at his sister. “How can you be in favor of this?” he asked. “Mother has never shown any interest in Uncle Paris. In fact, the stories of those two fighting are legendary.”

  “People grow up,” Moira said, trying to explain this to a man who was fiercely protective of their mother. “People mature. Mayhap they’ve outgrown their annoyance of each other. In any case, it is not up to you. It is up to them. Even if you do not support their decision, it is theirs to make so you will keep your yap shut.”

  The last few words were said with insistence. Nathaniel frowned at his sister, his mouth working as if he wanted to say something but refraining. Moira was married to a de Norville so anything he said could be construed as an insult against Paris and that wasn’t what he wanted.

  But he didn’t want his mother setting her cap for the man he’d known all his life as Uncle Paris.

  The whole situation had him flustered.

  “It is a betrayal to Papa,” he hissed, stepping back from his sister. “If Uncle Paris takes up with our mother, it is a complete betrayal to Papa.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a man simply does not marry his dear friend’s wife once he is dead!”

  “And I say Papa would want Mama to be happy, especially with someone she’s known most of her life.”

  “But Uncle Paris? It’s simply not done! Friends or brothers do not claim each other’s wives like that!”

  “So you would rather see them alone?” Moira asked. She jabbed a finger at Cassiopeia. “Cassie told you what Uncle Paris did, how he tried to kill himself because he’s so lonely. You would rather see the man die than find companionship and hope with our mother, and she with him? Are you truly so cruel, Nat?”

  Nathaniel wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t sure what he was, but he wasn’t trying to be hurtful. He simply didn’t agree with what the women were advocating. But he could see that his sister was quite determined. So was Cassiopeia. He was viewing it from his father’s perspective, or so he thought. He wasn’t convinced that Kieran would like to see his wife with one of his oldest and dearest friends, a man who was part of their family. But he backed off, unwilling to let the conversation dissolve into a fight.

  He needed reinforcements.

  “I am going to tell Alec,” he said. “He will not like this one bit, either.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Moira said. “I will tell him. You’ll make it sound like something horrible and I will tell him the truth. He will understand that it is perfectly acceptable for Mother to keep company with Uncle Paris so that neither one of them is alone.”

  Nathaniel made a face of distaste. “And that’s another thing,” he said. “You say ‘keep company’. What happens if Uncle Paris wants more than that. What happens if he wants to… you know… kiss her?”

  Moira fought off a grin as she saw her brother’s squeamish reaction to the thought. “I hope he does,” she said. “And I hope Mother kisses him back.”

  Nathaniel had enough. Putting his hands over his ears, he quit the hall. Instead of going for Alec, he went in search for his wife who, he knew, would more than likely side with his sister when he told her everything. Wynn St. Hever Hage had a lovely and generous heart and that’s why he loved her so. But at the moment, he was having a serious problem reconciling the situation between his mother and Paris. He needed her counsel, whatever it was, because he thought the entire suggestion was ridiculous.

  As Nathaniel fled the chamber, Moira turned to Cassiopeia.

  “If Nat reacts like that, I’m concerned to see what Alec does,” she said. “He is extremely protective over my mother, especially since Papa died. I had better find him and tell him what is going on before Nat gets to him and distorts it.”

  Cassiopeia sighed faintly. “It’s possible he already knows,” she said. “He has been with Hector and Adonis, and they know.”

  “That is true. I hope they do not poison him.”

  Cassiopeia looked at her curiously. “You weren’t entirely convinced about a relationship between my father and your mother at the beginning, but you did not convey that to Nat. You sounded certain about it.”

  M
oira lifted her shoulders. “I have thought on it and I am coming to agree with you. It makes sense that my mother and your father not be alone in their old age. They will have each other and that is a comfort.”

  Cassiopeia was glad to hear that Moira was on their side. She turned her head towards the door that led out into the garden, listening to the children outside, playing and yelling.

  “He’s still out there with her,” she said. “He hasn’t come in yet. That is a good sign.”

  Moira nodded. “At least there is no yelling that I can hear.”

  “True.”

  “I suppose we should get the wine he asked for. Mayhap if they get drunk, they will not fight.”

  Cassiopeia laughed softly. “Then we had better hurry.”

  Together, they headed to the kitchens of Castle Questing, a low-ceilinged collection of rooms on the south side of the castle complex. As they entered the first of three connecting chambers, heading for the buttery where the wine was kept, they happened upon Jordan, sitting in the kitchen with Cassiopeia’s youngest child in her arms. The baby had just awoken from a nap and Jordan had brought the child to the kitchen to get some milk, but as soon as the baby saw his mother, he let up a cry. Cassiopeia went to collect her son.

  “Where is Edward?” she asked Jordan.

  “With William,” Jordan said as she reluctantly gave up her little prize. “They are out in the stable with Alec and Hector and Adonis looking over Adonis’ stallion.”

  “Aunt Jemma is in the garden with Uncle Paris,” Cassiopeia said quietly, lifting her eyebrows encouragingly. “We were fetching them some wine.”

  Jordan’s features lit up. “He’s with her?”

  “He is.”

  “And?”

  Cassiopeia shrugged. “There has been no screaming or bloodshed yet,” she said with some humor. “That is good news.”

  Jordan was clearly excited. “It is,” she agreed, rushing over to Moira as the woman was pouring two measures of red wine into cups. She snatched the cups away. “I’ll take these tae them.”

  “I’m coming!” Moira said.

  Jordan rushed out with Moira on her heels, leaving Cassiopeia in the kitchen with her baby and his cup of milk. They scurried through the keep, heading to the hall, with Jordan trying not to spill anything. As they neared the door that led to the garden, they could hear commotion in the foyer at the front of the keep. It was enough of a commotion to give Jordan pause because she could hear William and Edward, along with another de Wolfe son, Blayth.

  And they were not alone.

  Curiously, she looked at Moira before the two of them headed to the keep entry in time to see men spilling into the foyer and shutting the door behind them. Along with William, Edward, and Blayth came Hector, Adonis, and Alec.

  They seemed to be arguing.

  “Here, now,” Jordan said as she approached. “What’s all the noise about?”

  All six men turned to her with William speaking first. “Alec has just heard about Paris and Jemma and has come to speak with Paris.”

  Already, Jordan could see there was going to be a battle by the expression on Alec’s face. “I see,” she said quietly, turning to hand the cups of wine to Moira. “Who told ye?”

  “Hector,” Alec said, displeasure on his face. “I saw you in the garden not long ago, Aunt Jordan. You and my mother could not have told me then?”

  “There was nothing tae tell at the time,” she said. “Come intae the hall with me, all of ye.”

  Alec didn’t move. “But I must speak with…”

  She cut him off. “I said come intae the hall with me. Now.”

  Her commands were not meant to be disobeyed, even by seasoned knights. Alec was three times her size but he gave in without a fight, moving into the hall with William and Edward, Hector and Adonis. Jordan stood aside, letting all of them enter before entering herself, but Blayth was the last one in. He grasped her gently by the arm.

  “He is very angry,” he told his mother quietly. “Is it true that Uncle Paris wants to marry Aunt Jemma?”

  Jordan turned to the man, sharply. Blayth, whose birthname was James, was the son she thought she’d lost ten years earlier when he was struck down in a battle in Wales. In reality, he hadn’t been killed, but a terrible head injury had robbed him of his memory, some of which he was only now getting back.

  Blayth was in command of Castle Questing’s army now that his father had mostly retired from active duty and there was no one more diligent, devoted, or true. Though the head injury had changed his personality somewhat, and he’d had to relearn much of what the de Wolfe and English stood for, what he hadn’t lost was his gift of emotion. He was very intuitive with others, something he was displaying at the moment.

  When Blayth spoke, Jordan listened.

  “Paris and Jemma are not getting married,” she told him. “Is that what ye heard?”

  “Hector has strong feelings about the situation, too.”

  Jordan rolled her eyes. “Come with me intae the hall and hear the truth for yerself.”

  Blayth did. He followed his mother into the great hall where the others were gathering. Jordan headed straight to Alec.

  “Now,” she said. “Why do ye wish tae speak with Paris?”

  “Because I’ll not have him hounding my mother.”

  Jordan rolled her eyes, frustrated with how information could become so badly misconstrued.

  “Sit down,” she commanded. “All of ye; sit down. We are going tae lay this out once and for all so ye’re not spreading lies and gossip. Do ye hear me? Sit.”

  The men planted themselves, including Blayth, who was vastly confused by the entire situation. He sat next to Edward, who was shaking his head in exasperation. He had been there when Hector had brought up the subject to Alec and even he was surprised how badly the situation had veered out of control. In fairness to Alec, Hector and Adonis had put their own particular spin on the situation. But he looked at his mother expectantly, knowing she would straighten it out.

  This was of her doing, after all.

  Edward, the diplomat, just kept his mouth shut.

  “Now,” Jordan said, mostly to Alec. “Paris isna hounding Jemma. No such thing has happened. But he is speaking tae her. It is possible he wants tae keep company with her.”

  Alec’s jaw twitched dangerously. “I will not…”

  “Silence,” Jordan hissed. “I’m not finished speaking. Now, it just so happens that yer mother has been lonely since yer father’s passing. Do ye think she would tell ye? Of course not. She’s a proud woman. She’s not going tae admit weakness tae her sons, and more than that, she’s not going tae express it for the very reason I’m faced with – men huffing and puffing about nothing at all. So yer mother canna make her own decisions when it comes tae the company she keeps, Alec?”

  Alec eyed her unhappily but there was some doubt in his expression. “I never said that.”

  “Then just what did ye want tae speak tae Paris about?”

  Alec drew in a long, heavy breath, glancing over at William, across the table. “I told you,” he said. “I do not want Paris hounding my mother. She’s never shown the slightest interest in him.”

  Jordan lifted her hands. “And she’s not allowed tae show any now?” she asked in a tone that had Alec’s anger deflating significantly. “Do ye want her tae remain alone for the rest of her life, then? Is the woman not allowed a companion in her old age? I tell ye that yer father wouldna want her tae be alone and I have known him far longer than ye have. Kieran Hage was a generous man and he would want his wife tae be happy.”

  Alec was growing increasingly subdued. “Of course he would,” he said. “But with Paris…”

  Jordan cut him off. “Would ye rather have her keeping company with a man ye know absolutely nothing about?” she asked. “That would give ye nightmares, Alec Hage, and ye know it. At least ye know Paris and ye know his heart. He’d never be anything but good tae yer mother.”

  Ale
c looked at Adonis and Hector, who were trying not to be insulted by the man’s resistance to Paris. They had their own reservations about Jemma, so the men were trying very hard not to insult each other’s parents. After a moment, Alec shook his head.

  “Uncle Paris is a good man,” he muttered. “He is not lacking in any way. But suppose… suppose I just do not wish to see my mother with anyone other than my father. I’m allowed that prejudice.”

  “Not at the expense of yer mother’s happiness, Alec. If ye love her, then ye want her tae be happy. Even if it isna with yer father.”

  Jordan’s logic had taken all of the wind out of Alec’s sails. Putting his elbows on the table, he covered his face with his hands, as if to wipe away the stress of the situation.

  “Of course I want her to be happy,” he said. “This whole situation is just… unsettling.”

  “Why?”

  The voice came from the doorway and everyone turned to see Paris standing there. Moira was standing next to him, looking very concerned, with two cups of wine still in her hand. Paris took a few steps into the hall, his focus on Alec.

  “Answer me, Alec,” he said. “Why are you unsettled?”

  There was tension in the room. Everyone could feel it. Jordan opened her mouth to intervene but William reached out, grasping her by the wrist to silence her. When she looked at him, he shook his head faintly. Alec was being addressed and Alec needed to answer.

  She couldn’t do it for him.

  Alec was a grown man and could face his own battles. He stood up from the table and faced Paris.

  “It is nothing against you, Uncle Paris,” he said. “I… I suppose the entire situation with you… and my mother… caught me off-guard.”

  Paris’ gaze lingered on Alec for a moment before he turned to Moira, standing behind him. “Will you summon your mother, please?”