The Strength of Baffin Read online

  A deafening void of silence engulfed the room and Jolin felt her knees wobble. “I-I…I beg your pardon? ‘His Lordship’? Tethran…de Gesch?”

  “Precisely. Otherwise known as Tethran LeMark. Though it hasn’t yet been officially announced, Lord Tethran happens to be the sole male heir of Baffin.”

  Jolin collapsed, her stomach queasy, and the last thing she heard was her father’s soothing voice.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Tethran sprung to his feet immediately once he heard the familiar footsteps outside the gaol’s door. It was a sound he’d been well anticipating. His mother was at his side in a flash. In fact, she hadn’t left his side since she’d discovered their blood connection. Over the three days they’d been huddling together in the dungeon, she’d did her best nursing him back to a workable state. Captain Carlisle had supplied them with clean clothes, and enough medicinals and salve to have him back on his feet. Though there was still a sting here and there, Tethran was certain he could work around it. The door eased open and Carlisle strode through, lamp in hand.

  He nodded. “It’s time. I’ve accomplish quite a miracle over the last couple days.”

  Tethran gripped the older man’s arm. “Did you rally the guards?”

  The man chuckled. “Enough. Just the ones I’m certain won’t up and change their minds. Surprisingly, the number was more than enough. I have them keeping watch.”

  “Good.” He glanced at the worried crease in his mother’s forehead and sighed. “Get my mother to a safe place while I deal with my…my father.”

  “You have my word nothing grave will befall on her. I swear that on my life.”

  Tethran nodded. The time truly had come. “And how is…Jolin, the last time you saw her?”

  “Well, like I’ve told you, the first time I broke the news she’d right fainted. Luckily, her father had been close enough to catch her. She’s fine. I’ve clearly instructed her and your friends to not venture a foot from the tavern until they are sent for.”

  “Good.” He really did not need to be worrying about her--any of them--while he was confronting Viktor de Gesch. “And what am I to expect above stairs?”

  “It’s quite a bit before dawn at the moment so many have not yet risen. The alderman is in his beloved Holding Room, punishing one of his footmen for God knows what. It’s not a pretty sight but I could not have stopped it. It’s best I not give him anything to be suspicious about, eh?”

  “You’re right.”

  “Whatever happens, the guards will protect you,” Captain Carlisle said, his expression sincere and a bit weary. “We’ve all been waiting for a little salvation.”

  Tethran felt his mother’s grip tighten around his left arm and he turned to face her. He had so much to say. So much he was yet to understand but he was certain about one thing. “Thank you for sending me away. For hiding me as a babe. I’ve been no saint, and I’ve done things I’m not particularly proud of but…anything must be better than being raised under the thumb of that bastard.”

  “Oh, Tethran--”

  “No. Let me finish. You did what you had to do. You did what many others probably would not have had the courage to do, and you…braved through sixteen years in this blasted hole! I acknowledge you as the mother I’ve always craved for but hadn’t realized it. You, Isabel Gauzere. But that’s all I’m willing to accept of my parentage.” He felt his teeth grind and his nostrils flare. “Viktor de Gesch will never be my father.”

  Tethran felt his heartstrings tug as tears flooded down his mother’s face, her palms gently framing his own. “I love you, my son. I’ve never stopped. You are the reason I held on for so long.” She tugged his hand to her heart. “I felt it in here, and I just knew you would made your way back somehow.” She sniffled and gave a wobbly yet gladsome smile. “But you overestimate my sense of forbearance, dear Tethran, for if it had all been up to me, I’d have wasted away years ago. It was you; you are the strength that has kept me these past years. And today…you’re the strength that Baffin needs to move forward on the right path.” She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “It means ‘strength’,” she whispered. “Your name. You, my darling, are the long awaited strength of Baffin.”

  * * *

  Captain Carlisle led them up two flights of slippery narrow stone steps before emerging onto a spacious landing. Five guards were already positioned there, and Tethran couldn’t help but falter in his steps. Could he really trust these men?

  “It’s okay, milord,” Carlisle said. “I’ve secured the entire way to the Holding Room. The other…suspected wayward guards have been stationed on the east wing and in the courtyard. There’s no need to worry.”

  Tethran nodded and stepped up onto the landing. The guards each inclined their head in the captain’s direction, and upon seeing him, bowed briskly. Tethran stood a little taller.

  “Temson. Benwood.” Two guards immediately moved forward at Carlisle’s command. “Escort the lady to the Red Room. Quickly, men. And do not leave her side. Understood?”

  “Yes sir!”

  Isabel gave Tethran a squeeze on the hand and then fled quickly down a corridor in the company of the door guards. He watched steadfastly as they went.

  “She’ll be safe there,” Carlisle said, as if reading his mind. “We should move. Now.”

  Tethran gripped his arm to stay him. “You only need direct me to where he is. I can take it from here.”

  The captain did not back down. “Not a chance. I want to be there… I want to see that bastard on his knees.”

  There was an unmistakable glint of anger glowing in the other man’s gaze and Tethran suspected his own eyes might be mirroring the very same thing. Something told him that Captain Carlisle had much more to hate the alderman for than his corrupt and barbaric sense of ruling. No, it was definitely something personal that fuelled the captain’s rage. Something that could not be calmed or be atoned for.

  “Lead the way then, Captain.”

  Carlisle inclined his head and stomped forward. “By the way, if everything works out for the better, I’m retiring from this blasted post. This is all been quite too much for me.”

  Tethran bit back a chuckle and followed the man down the corridor. It took them at least six right turns, a file of well positioned guards, two flight of stairs and another five left turns before they arrived at the large wooden door which would eventually give way to the alderman’s dreadful punishing room. Six guards stood at the door who immediately shuffled out of the way upon their arrival. Tethran held a silencing finger to his lips and the men nodded their deference.

  He and Carlisle then exchanged steady glances. “They know what to do,” the captain said. “No one leaves until the bastard is in chains.”

  Tethran nodded, took a deep calming breath and clenched his fists.

  Carlisle then pressed a long blade with a curved tip towards him. “Just in case. He is one devious cur.”

  He’d be a fool not to take it. He flexed the weapon in his grip, testing the weight. Yes, it would do quite nicely. “I’m ready.”

  Carlisle nodded. “On three. One, two…three.”

  One of the guards shoved the door wide open, and Tethran stormed in, not even hesitating. The alderman shot up off the high seat from where he was acting spectator to a vicious beating. Two guards were holding up a bloodied servant whose face hardly looked anything near to recognizable. The one who was about to deliver another blow instantly dropped his hand and turned wide eyes on his master.

  “What is the meaning of this?!” The alderman stood where he was, eyes blazing with fury. “And you, Carlisle?” Viktor de Gesch spat, gaze narrowing on Tethran. “Fucking traitor!”

  “Shut up and face me down here like a man,” Tethran shouted.

  Carlisle instantly stepped forward, raising his own blade in the direction of the guards. “You three. Get out of here!”

  The men hesitated but then stormed out of the room as if the devil was on their heels. The servant’s b
ody crumbled to the floor in a lifeless heap.

  The alderman roared. “Traitors! All of you!” Then he withdrew a long blade from behind his chair and barrelled down the steps. “I’ll fucking kill you this time, you ugly mug. Carlisle, I’m going to bloody well skin you alive for this!”

  Tethran held his position firm, Carlisle at his side. “I’ve come to right a wrong, Viktor! And I’ll have my way, so help me God!”

  “God!” Viktor paused five feet away, chuckling bitterly. “There is no God. I’m the nearest thing to God you’ll ever see, you impertinent wretch!”

  The alderman surged forward like a mad bull on spotting a hint of red.

  “Stand down, Carlisle. This fight is mine!”

  Tethran sliced his blade forward, blocking the path of Viktor’s weapon. Metal scraped against metal, grunts and growls of battle soared through the filthy air.

  “You’ll die like the fool you are,” Viktor grunted. “No honour.”

  Tethran lunged, nicking at the alderman’s right shoulder and drawing blood. “You speak of honour?”

  “It’ll take far more than a scrape to unman me! Oh, I’ll enjoy killing you.”

  “Aim for the throat, milord!” came Carlisle’s interjection.

  Viktor chuckled, blocking Tethran’s blow. “I always thought you were inadequate, Carlisle. Switched alliances again so soon?”

  “I wasn’t speaking to you, you sick fuck!”

  “Enough!” Viktor jabbed at Tethran’s knee, successfully sending a slice of pain up his thigh.

  Anger exploded through Tethran and he propelled forward, swinging with all his strength. His blade cut straight through the alderman’s shirt, staining a long slash of blood across his chest. Viktor stumbled, clutching his wound, his blade clattering to the floor. Tethran then sent his fist flying into the man’s face, knocking him right over on his arse. The alderman went down with a reluctant growl.

  “Stay down,” he snarled, chest heaving and pointing his blade at the man’s chest. “Or I will kill you.”

  Viktor rasped a breath, eyes stormy. “Finish it! Go on. Run that blade through my heart.”

  “You’re not mine to kill.” Tethran eyed him with raw disgust. “Are you…Father?”

  Viktor de Gesch stared at him, his eyes bulged with anger. “You dare insinuate that I’m--”

  Carlisle stepped closer. “I’m sure there’s a special place in hell for men who set out to murder their own sons. Guards!” Four men hurried inside, eyes wide.

  “I have no fucking son! Least of all this…this unsightly creature!”

  Viktor made to scramble up but Tethran slammed his boot over the wound on the man’s chest. The alderman howled viciously but he ground his boot in some more, to underscore his meaning. “Throw some chains on the bastard and have him delivered him to his precious gaol. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the new accommodations. I’ve now far more important matters to see to.”

  Carlisle bared his teeth with an unmistakable smirk. “Gladly, milord.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Lin, I will force this stew down your throat if I have to. You cannot willingly starve yourself!”

  Jolin paced the room, just a tiny snap away from ripping her own hair out. How long was she to wait? How…long? Captain Carlisle had visited twice day over the last two days, bearing fresh ‘news’ of Tethran’s situation; that he was alright and that everything would be fine. But how was she to control her worrying? How was she to reassure her fretful mind when she hadn’t actually seen that he was well? Goodness, it was all too much for one woman to bear, really. And not only that, but they had been informed that Tethran was also the long lost son of Viktor de Gesch. The bloody alderman’s son. Which also meant that the rumour Josephine had told them about was true and that Tethran--her Tethran--was the singe male heir to the alderman’s seat. The captain had confirmed as much but she was still having a great difficulty processing all the details. It seemed all to surreal to be true, and she wasn’t quite certain if she wanted it to be true. What did this mean for her? Would the alderman’s heir still want her? Bloody hell, her heart was surely going to explode right out of her chest!

  “Lin? Jolin?” came her father’s voice again. He was standing just behind her now.

  Jolin turned to regard him, a little thankful for the privacy. They had acquired a new room and allowed Sinclair to remain in hers since he was already recuperating in the bed. She also suspected that he and his sister had much to catch up on and would very much appreciate the gesture as well.

  “I am not in the mood for food, Father.” She returned to pacing.

  “People do not need to be in the mood for that which keeps them alive, Lin!” came her father’s sharp retort. “Have you ever felt in the mood for air?”

  She paused. “Actually, yes.” She could think of many times when she had felt in the mood for air. Now, was one of those times.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Jolin, listen to me.” Her father grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “I’m not--”

  He gave her a swift shake. “Listen, I say! You must quit with torturing yourself. I’m sure LeMark will come for you as soon as things are settled at the castle.”

  She gazed at her father, raking her eyes over his short dark hair streaked with silver. His eyes were a bit red from fatigue, his mouth drawn tight. When was the last time she had truly seen her father angry? Jolin sighed and sank into a chair. “I’m…I’m sorry. It’s just that…”

  “You can’t help being worried.” He passed her a mug of cider. “But you can’t fret yourself to death either. Christ, if the lad doesn’t ask for your hand the moment I lay eyes on him, I’ll have to throw him down the aisle myself!”

  Jolin sniffed the beverage. “Do you think…I might be alone for just a bit?”

  Her father sighed. “Are you sure?”

  She swallowed, nodding. She meant to have another good long cry and had no intention of having her father in the room to witness it. “Yes. I just…need a little time alone. I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t want to leave y--”

  “Please.” Jolin stood, hugging her father tightly. He was safe. He was here, but she really needed some reprieve. Crying would help, and it would also give her added strength to face Tethran when---or if he returned. “Just a couple hours. That’s all I ask.”

  His arms tightened around her. Much like they always did when she’d been a little girl. Like they’d been merely weeks ago before she’d last seen him. Jolin smiled into her father’s chest and sighed. She was truly thankful to have him.

  “Okay. I’ll leave you now.” He stepped back and pecked her on the forehead. “But only two hours. And not a second longer.”

  Jolin couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in her throat. Her father was ever so exact. And she loved him for it. She watched him as he exited the room and took her seat again, staring down at the amber liquid in her mug.

  She hadn’t even realized when the tears first began to fall.

  * * *

  He stormed through the doors of the tavern, ignoring a loud call from Mr. Smythe, and took the stairs two step at a time. He was sweaty, and the scent from the gaol most likely still clung to him, but he didn’t care. He had to see Jolin. His heart would surely fail him if he didn’t. He had reached the landing and was ready to shot down the hallway when he almost collided with another man.

  “Watch where you’re going, will--” The remaining words died on his tongue the moment the other man looked up. Tethran swallowed. “Mr. Wulf?” He shook his head. “I mean, Mr. Crymble?”

  The man chuckled, clasping his hand in a tight handshake. “I go by both, actually. Hadn’t expected you so soon, though.”

  “Yes, I--I had some…matters to see to.”

  “No need to explain. I know all about it. So…you must be looking for my daughter.”

  “Yes. I need to see her.” He glanced over Mr. Crymble’s shoulder anxiously.

 
The man blocked his path. “Hold on just a second there, lad. Can’t allow you to pass until you answer one question.”

  Tethran could feel more sweat beading his temples. “Sir?”

  Mr. Crymble crossed his arms, his brows puckering in what Tethran could only describe as the I’m-going-to-kill-you-if-you-ever-hurt-my-daughter stance. “You do plan on marrying her, don’t you?”

  He suppressed a breath of relief. Easy question, that one. “I don’t intend on marrying anyone else, sir. I love your daughter and we will be married as soon as possible. If she’ll have me, of course.”

  Two thick slightly greying brows rose. “If she’ll have you? The poor girl is in her room crying her daylights out over you. I am begging you to get on with it already before I’m resorted to mopping the bloody floors to get rid of her tears.”