For certain, Paris was mad enough to kill.
No one really blamed him.
Troy was standing at the base of the steps leading from Castle Questing’s keep. It was a temperate day in late May, still moderate and lovely, before the warmer days of summer would come. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky overhead, the deep blue expanse alluding to the fact that it could have been a glorious day.
Could have been.
But at the moment, it was a very uncertain one.
William barked at his son.
“Troy,” he snapped quietly. “Back away. Go and stand by the entry door.”
Troy turned to his father. Dark and handsome, he wasn’t as tall as William was, but he was powerfully built. Even at his young age, he showed skill well beyond his years. He’d also inherited an innate Scots rage from his mother’s side of the family, a woman born and bred in Scotland, because he was faster to temper than almost anyone William knew. He wasn’t afraid to act on that rage.
And that was William’s fear.
“I will not,” Troy said. “This is my battle, Papa. Kindly stay out of it.”
William shook his head. “I cannot and you know it,” he said quietly. “Let me speak with your Uncle Paris first before this gets out of hand.”
“It is already out of hand.”
“Please, Troy,” William begged softly. “Stay here with Kieran. Just… humor me. Please.”
Troy wasn’t pleased. “Papa, you are not involved in this,” he said. “I did what I did and I shall face it. Alone.”
William cocked an eyebrow at his stubborn son. “You involved me when you came home and confessed everything to me,” he said. “You pulled me into this, so do not tell me I am not involved. You are my son. I will always be involved in anything that affects your well-being.”
Troy stiffened, preparing for a fight with his father now, but Kieran put himself between William and Troy in an attempt to defuse the situation. Big, gentle Kieran was dearly loved by all of the de Wolfe and Hage and de Norville children, a man who was supremely patient and supremely wise. William could hear Kieran’s soft, deep voice speaking steadily to Troy as he headed off in Paris’ direction.
Paris, too, had come dressed for battle. He was wearing all of his mail and plate protection, with weapons strapped all over his body. Paris was a big man, muscular and agile, and he had been at William’s side in many a battle. William trusted him with his life and he had, too many times to count. William knew very well what the man was capable of. As Paris dismounted his war horse, William went to meet him.
“Paris,” he greeted. “I will not pretend to be ignorant as to why you are here, but I want to hear it from you.”
Paris met William’s gaze a moment before looking around him, seeing Troy with Kieran.
“Get out of my way, William,” he said. “This is between me and your son.”
William wouldn’t budge. “Tell me why you have come or I will not move.”
“You said you already know why.”
“I also said I want to hear it from you,” William said. “Do you think so little of me that you would not give me that courtesy?”
Paris looked at him. “This is not about you,” he said. “This is about your son. He thinks he is a man, so let him handle this like a man.”
“I am waiting.”
Paris took a step back, his jaw working angrily. “Very well,” he said. “If that is what you wish, then I shall tell you why I am here. You have raised a scoundrel for a son, William.”
“Why?”
Paris snorted, his cheeks beneath his three-point helm turning pink. “Did he tell you that Helene is pregnant?”
“He did.”
William said it so emotionlessly that Paris ripped off his helm, throwing it down in a rage. “My daughter is fifteen years old, William,” he snarled. “Fifteen years old and seduced by… by that feral cat you call a son. He seduced her!”
“He loves her.”
Paris’ jaw was ticking so furiously that he was close to snapping teeth. “I told him that he could court her,” he said. “I did not tell him that he could fuck her. That’s what he did, like a dog after a bitch in heat.”
William was struggling to keep his cool. He didn’t like to hear Paris calling his son names. “It is my understanding that she was a willing participant,” he said, trying to slow down Paris’ building fury. “She loves him, too, Paris. You know this.”
“I also told him that she was too young to marry!”
“My mother married at thirteen.”
Paris began to stomp around, kicking at anything that came near his foot. “I told you that this is not about you,” he said. “Your son has defiled my daughter and I shall have my satisfaction!”
William just stood there and shook his head. “What satisfaction?” he said. “Killing my son? And just how do you think I will respond to that? Did you ever think about that?”
Paris came to a halt, facing William with wide eyes. “I have every right to seek satisfaction.”
“If you do, then I have every right to seek revenge.”
That brought Paris great pause. He stood there, staring at the man he loved best in the world, a man who was closer to him than any brother. But at the moment, he was flabbergasted that William didn’t see his point.
Paris, as usual, only saw what he wished to see, in this case, the man who had impregnated his fifteen-year-old daughter. It didn’t matter to him that they were in love. It didn’t matter to him that Troy wanted to marry Helene. All that mattered was that his daughter was pregnant out of wedlock.
He simply wasn’t being rational.
“You would do that?” Paris hissed. “You would punish me for something that is my right?”
William was starting to
