William and Kieran were watching Paris closely. That’s not the tack or the approach they would have chosen to take when there was something far more important to tell Paris. But very quickly, they realized that it was a brilliant tactical move by Scott by gaining the man’s permission to marry first.
Then, deliver the questionable news.
Paris looked at Scott, processing what the young knight had said. Beneath that drunken façade, his mind was fairly clear when it came to matters of the family, including Scott and Athena. The pair that had both pined for one another and ignored one another, and this had been going on for years. Scott was a fine lad and Paris loved him like a son. In fact, he had a special attachment to him, as William’s first born, and he had been expecting this question for the past two years.
Was it the right time to ask? Probably not, but he had. Attending a wedding had a way of inspiring bravery in those considering it.
But Paris didn’t want Scott to think he was too eager to agree.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “She is quite young.”
“Not too terribly,” Scott said. “Women are married at an age younger than she is now.”
“But she may not want to marry you. Have you asked her?”
Scott blinked in surprise. “Of course I have,” he said. “She wants to marry me very much.”
Paris shrugged, leaning against one of the supporting posts for the roof of the stable. “I am not certain of this,” he said, sounding both casual and inebriated. “Rafe d’Vant has an eye for her, you know. He’s an excellent knight from an excellent Cornwall family.”
Scott knew enough about his Uncle Paris to know the man was trying to goad him. “Rafe has an eye for someone else,” he pointed out. “He has no interest in marrying Athena when he knows she is for me.”
He may have had a better answer than Paris was expecting, but that didn’t deter him. “There are a half-dozen lords in Northumberland who are better prospects than you are,” he said. “Men who have wealth and titles.”
“I’ll have those someday.”
“But you do not have them now,” Paris said. “De Vesci’s heir has looked at my Athena with longing in his eyes. Mayhap I shall ask him if he wishes to pursue her.”
Unfortunately, Scott didn’t have much patience, especially when it came to Athena and his pride. He knew Paris was just being difficult for there was truly no reason for him to deny him permission to marry her. The families had been expecting it for quite some time, so Paris was just being childish, in Scott’s opinion.
That served to fuel his ire.
“Do that and I shall kill him and bring all of Alnwick down around our ears,” he said. “Is that what you want? A war?”
Paris took another swig from his cup. “The war will be with your father, not me,” he said. “My daughter is quite beautiful.”
“I know.”
“Many men look at her with longing in their eyes.”
“How many men have asked for her hand?”
He had Paris on that point because there hadn’t been any. Paris’ eyes narrowed. “That is none of your business,” he said. “The point is that you may not be her only suitor. She is young and I will not rush into anything.”
Scott’s face was beginning to turn red and William had remained silent long enough. He didn’t like seeing Paris harass his son in that fashion because it was bordering on mean-spirited.
“Paris,” he rumbled. “Either give your permission or deny him. Stop torturing him for your own amusement.”
Paris looked at William. “It is not for my own amusement,” he said. “Your son wants to marry my daughter. Did he think it was going to be a simple thing? Did he think I would simply shake his hand and thank him for the offer? She has other choices than your arrogant son, you know.”
William shook his head at the man, exasperated, as Scott’s dander rose. He knew he shouldn’t clap back, but with Paris calling him arrogant, he found that he was deeply insulted.
“She does not have any other choices,” he pointed out hotly. “I am her first and only choice. If you do not want to give me permission, then simply say so, but know that I will not listen to you. I am going to marry her no matter what you say.”
Paris drank the last of his cup and tossed it aside. “Is that so?” he said. “You think no other man will want her, then?”
“No other man will want a woman carrying another man’s child!”
Both William and Kieran looked at Scott with wide eyes, shocked that he’d just blurted out something that should have been gently delivered. But Paris had provoked him; there was no question in their minds that Paris had unreasonably provoked him.
But now, they waited for the explosion.
It wasn’t long in coming.
With a roar, Paris grabbed the nearest weapon, which happened to be a big, iron bar that the smithies used when shoeing the horses. He lifted it like a club and charged after Scott as the man dodged out of his way. Kieran leapt back as Scott raced past him, sticking out a foot and tripping Paris as the man came near. Scott ran through the stable yard as Paris picked himself up, grabbed his iron bar, and took a swing at Kieran. It was a drunken swing, but a swing nonetheless, and Kieran easily ducked it.
“I will kill you!” Paris shouted at Kieran. “I must kill Scott first, but when I do, I’ll come back and kill you!”
Kieran was fighting off a bad case of the giggles. “I will be waiting right here.”
Paris roared again and stumbled after Scott, who had retrieved an enormous pitchfork that the grooms used to dispense the hay. It was heavy, made from iron and wood, and he held it up to deflect Paris’ blow as the man swung at him.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Paris,” Scott said, trying to defend himself. “I did not mean to tell you in that manner, but… well, you were being hateful. It just came out.”
Paris was on fire. “I’ll tell you what else is going to come out,” he bellowed. “Your guts when I’m finished with you! I am going to disembowel you right in front of your father! Guts everywhere like a sea of red!”
He was swinging the iron rod recklessly because he was so drunk that his aim was horrible. Scott was trying to stay out of his range, defending himself more than he was actually fighting back.
“If you kill me, Athena really will have a bastard,” Scott said, dodging a swing that came close to his knees. “Uncle Paris, I love her. I want to marry her. If the child is male, we are going to name him after you. Your grandson will be named Paris. Does that not please you?”
Paris growled. He didn’t stop swinging the rod, as Scott had hoped. “You’ll not sully my name with the de Wolfe stench,” he said. “You cannot name the child Paris de Wolfe. I forbid it!”
Scott was walking in circles around Paris, trying to stay away from the rod. “You are going to have another grandchild with Troy and Helene,” he said. “Both of your daughters have chosen de Wolfe husbands. You love my father and he loves you. Stop saying terrible things about the de Wolfe name.”
“It stands for animals! Foolish, reckless animals!”
“At least these animals have wealth and property, unlike the de Norvilles.”