WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations by Kathryn Veque (top 20 books to read .TXT) 📗

on the bed, quiet and exhausted, the old woman continued to comb through her hair before finally braiding it into a long, thick braid.

But all of the grooming had taken time and the food that had been brought into the room was cooling now. Still, Gavriella could smell it and, cool or not, she was going to eat it. The lure of bread and butter was enough to get her up off the bed. As she took a seat at the small table in front of the hearth, the old woman gathered up the damp linens and opened the door, hissing at her husband. He rushed in to help her remove the copper pot that was now heavy with lukewarm water. They lugged it out together, sloshing it on to the floor. As they departed, an enormous figure took their place.

Gavriella looked up to see the knight standing there.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked quietly.

She had a big piece of bread and butter in her hand, having just taken an enormous bite. In truth, she wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Did she feel better? Maybe physically. She was warm and clean. She had food.

Mentally was a different matter altogether.

After a moment, she lowered the bread and fixed on him. “You… I simply do not understand you.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why you will not leave me alone.”

His response was to shut the door, but he didn’t bolt it. He shut it just enough to give them privacy with their conversation. “I told you why,” he said. “You became my responsibility when I helped you find your way out of Gomorrah.”

“And that includes pulling me out of the river?”

He nodded faintly. “I could not let you kill yourself,” he said quietly. “At least, not in my presence. It is a sin, my lady. Surely you understand that.”

She pushed the bread aside completely, her appetite waning at the subject of conversation. “Mayhap it is, but it is my sin,” she said. “You had no right to stop me.”

He regarded her a moment and as he did, something in him snapped. He was tired of being noble when it wasn’t appreciated… or wanted.

“My lady, I have gone out of my way this evening to present you with a courteous man of honor and you have done your very best to insult me every step of the way,” he said, a flash of temper rising. “I can tell you, plainly, that I have no motive in all of this. I saw a lady in distress tonight and I felt compelled to help her, but that will end in a couple of hours when the sun rises and I help you find your way home. After that, I will trouble you no further. Run back to the river and drown yourself if you wish because I will not be there to pull you out. If you succeed, then God have mercy on your soul. But I will wash my hands of you and your foolish behavior. I am finished showing any measure of concern for your safety because, clearly, you do not care.”

It was a scolding, probably far less than she deserved, but in those stern words, she began to see something in him that she hadn’t seen before. A hardness that he hadn’t shown her, a darkness flashing in those pale eyes. She sat there, looking at him, feeling indignation. Anger.

Pain.

“I never asked you to save me,” she said. “All I did was agree to permit you to help me find the way out of that horrible guild. That was it. You took it upon yourself to become my protector and I never asked you to do that, either.”

He just looked at her, slowly shaking his head. “God, you’re an ungrateful creature,” he muttered. “You may look like an angel, but you have the manners of a lout. Since you feel that way, I’ll pay for you to use this chamber for the rest of the night, but you can find your way home on your own in the morning. I am sorry to have wasted my time with you. You make a good act of being fearful and weak, but when someone tries to help you, you have no idea how to graciously accept such help or even be polite about it. What do you get out of this abusive game, my lady? Some kind of sick satisfaction?”

She was taken aback by his words. “What are you talking about? How I behave is not a game, my lord.”

He snorted rudely. “How you behave is as poorly as I have ever seen,” he said. “God help the next man who tries to give you any measure of assistance. You’re not worth any of it.”

She frowned. “How dare you say such things,” she said. “You know nothing about me.”

“And I do not want to,” he snapped back. “I honestly thought I was doing something good. You see, I have sisters and a mother and many female relatives, and in my family, we treat our women with great esteem and respect. It is natural to us. I was raised to be a chivalrous man and I thought you needed someone to be kind to you, but I was wrong. So very wrong. Therefore, I will not trouble you further, my lady. Good luck to you. You are going to need it.”

With that, he turned for the door and yanked it open. Stepping through, he shut it behind him, pausing a moment because he’d just yelled at a woman who had tried to kill herself. He tried not to feel like a monster. But her ingratitude had inflamed him. He didn’t expect praise, but simple thanks would have been nice.

But he’d been wasting his time.

He’d been an idiot.

With a sigh of frustration, he was about to step away from the door when he heard something.

It sounded like weeping.

Keep walking, he told himself. She didn’t want his help. She’d told him to go away multiple times. She didn’t