The Wolfe (101 page)

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

William and his wife and their
entourage reached Northwood the next day near dusk.

Jordan sat with her husband, her
eyes widening at the sight of mighty Northwood. The fortress sat silhouetted
against a black, stormy sky, looking even more foreboding than she could ever
remember and belying the true warmth of the castle’s interior. But it was the
outer wall she saw, only half repaired, and the complete desolate terrain
surrounding her that made the fortress appear so utterly raped. Even the trees
that shielded the small lake she loved so well were barren and dead, and the
lake was a mucky bog.

Yet in spite of the appearance, she could
not imagine that returning to Langton after all this time would be any sweeter.
She was glad to be home and her thoughts immediately turned to her cousin.

She was shocked at the sight of the
outer bailey. There were few peasants trying to rebuild. The majority of the
outer buildings were destroyed as well as the outer village. Her stomach
twisted with the misery of their plight.

“English, what happened to all of
the peasants?” her voice echoed with disbelief.

“Gone or killed,” he replied. “But
there are quite a few left. We will rebuild.”

She hadn’t really imagined the
severity of the destruction until it hit her at this very moment. She was
sickened.

“This is terrible,” she shook her
head slowly.

“Aye,” he answered, thinking of the
empty hulk of Langton. He still had yet to tell her what he had found.

Jordan slid off the destrier,
looking about her with awed horror. The tanner’s shop, the cobbler, everything,
was gone. She remembered how nice they had been to her and she was absolutely
devastated.

“Where is the tanner? And the
blacksmith?” she turned to her husband, demanding answers. “What happened to
them?”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “I
just do not know, love. Things were still chaotic when I left for London.”

They heard screaming. Jordan’s head
snapped in the direction of the castle to see Jemma barreling through the inner
gates toward her. She yelled something in Gaelic and Jordan laughed in delight.

“What did she say?” William demanded
with a smile.

“She wants to know where my little
devils are,” his wife replied.

Kieran was closer to his wife than
Jordan and was the recipient of a flying tackle. He grunted with the force of
the small woman and staggered back a step, hugging her fiercely to him. She
smacked him on the side of the helmet, scolding him in Gaelic for not removing
it so she could kiss him. Although he had no idea what she had said, intuitively
he set her on her feet and removed his helm. With a grin, he proceeded to kiss
her so deeply that the other knights applauded with approval. Jordan just smiled.

When Jemma had caught her breath,
she pulled herself from her husband’s arms and immediately raced to her cousin.
The women came together in a clash of material and squeals, babbling in Gaelic
and no one could understand a word they were saying.

“Kieran, we must learn Gaelic,”
William commented to his second. “For all we know, they are plotting to escape
us.”

Kieran wiggled his brows. “Mayhap it
is better if we do not. If we learn then native tongue, they’ll be able to
order us about in two languages. I prefer to remain ignorant.”

“Where are those bairns, Jordan?” Jemma
finally demanded in English, well aware of her husband’s remark.

Jordan took her hand and led her
back to the carriage. Jemma accepted the first twin, Scott, as if he were made
of solid gold. She alternately fawned over one and then the other, declaring
them to be perfect. Kieran and William had come up behind them, William eyeing
his second to see if there was any particular emotion watching his wife cradle
a babe. There was none.

“And look at the beautiful
dark-haired bairn that ye have.” Jemma exclaimed. “Is this the one ye named for
my nemesis? Why on earth, Jordi, did ye saddle the babe with a namesake like
him?”

Paris pulled off his helmet and
scowled at Jemma, as was usual. “The child is most fortunate, banshee, and
never forget it.”

Jemma thrust up her chin at him arrogantly,
but not before he caught a glimpse of a smile. “Come, Jordan, let’s take the
bairns inside. ‘Tis cold out here.”

The babies were overwrapped like a
Christmas goose, obviously not feeling the elements but Jordan heartily agreed.
Jordan, Jemma, Byron, and the wet nurse crossed back through the outer bailey
and into the castle, leaving the knights to attend their duties.

Jordan insisted on sleeping in the
apartments she had originally occupied when she had first come to Northwood.
She wanted nothing to do with the apartments the earl had given her after their
‘wedding’, even though they were more spacious. Kieran and Jemma now occupied
them.

With the twins safely tucked away in
the smaller bedchamber for the night, Jordan’s fatigue had caught up with her
and she yawned sleepily as she crossed the adjoining antechamber and into the
bower she shared with her husband. She had noticed earlier that there was a
different bed filling the room and the vanity was missing, but she didn’t
linger on it. She was simply glad to be back, feeling content and warm and
delighted with her life. There was nothing more in this world she could
possibly want or need for.

The kitten Mary Alys had given her
so long ago was now a full grown fat white cat. The cat had claimed this room
as his own and awaited his mistress from his comfortable spot atop William’s
pillow. Jordan smiled at the animal and scratched his ears, bringing forth
rumbles of purring.

“Ye had better remove yer fat body,
George,” she told the tom. “Or William will be having cat stew for his morning
meal.”

The cat purred louder, dashing her
apprehension that the animal would not remember her. George was a loyal as her
knights.

She climbed under the covers, fully
intending to wait for William to join her, but drifted off to sleep before her
head even hit the pillow. George, not to be left out, moved to her and curled
up against her arms.

When William came to bed several
hours later and found the cat cuddled against his wife, he put his hands on his
hips.

“George, you will remove yourself,”
he whispered severely. The cat yawned, looked up at him and began to purr
loudly. He made a wry face.

“Do not try to sweet-talk me, you
hairy little rodent,” he pointed at the door. “Go.”

The feline stretched and amazingly,
rose. Satisfied the cat was doing as it had been ordered, he proceeded to
remove all of his clothing. However, when he turned around he saw that the cat
had taken up position on his pillow. He frowned.

“Damn cat,” he hissed.

“English, quit fighting with George
and just come to bed,” Jordan said, her voice muffled into the bedclothes.

He obeyed, but he slid into bed on
the opposite side of his wife and shoved her over against the cat. She didn’t
protest, grinning as George stood indignantly at being shuffled and then tried
to lie back down on her face. William saw the animal’s intention and reached
over Jordan to shove the cat clear off the bed.         

“Stupid beast,” he muttered.

Snuggled in William’s arms with a
faint smile on her lips, Jordan drifted off to sleep again. George jumped back
on the bed and draped himself across William’s feet, prompting a murmured curse
but naught much else. He was nearly asleep, too.

***

The following morning Jordan awoke
in William’s arms, not even remembering the pleasure of being enveloped in
them. She twisted a little, relishing the warm security of his body.

“Are you awake?” he asked into her
hair.

She nodded, pulling away to smile
sleepily at him. “Aye. Did George bother ye overmuch last night?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I am going to
roast that cat over a pit someday.”

She grinned and pressed against him.
“He loves ye, English. What took ye so long last night?”

“There was much to go over with
Brockenhurst and Will,” he replied vaguely.

He didn’t mention he had informed
Captain Brockenhurst on the fate of his liege. Brockenhurst, being a sensible
and level-headed man, was appalled at the story but truthfully not surprised. Earl
de Troiu was a sort of parallel to Alexander in a sense, though not as bad. The
captain was genuinely sorry with the turn of events, but he was not the least
remorseful that de Troiu was dead.

In fact, Brockenhurst told William
that the army that had attacked them in the forest was a sort of loyalist guard
to de Troiu, troops that only the earl commanded. He forbade his captain access
to the hundred-man company of mostly German mercenaries.

Payton-Forrester had left that very
night, taking his three hundred men with him back to Beverley. William had
thanked him profusely for his loyalty but his friend had waved him off,
swearing that he would demand the favor be returned someday. William had
promised him he would come when called.

He realized with happiness how very
blessed he was; with fine knights who served him, friends that were tremendously
loyal, and a wife he loved madly. The titles and the favor of the king seemed
secondary to the things that truly mattered to him, things that at one time he
had never truly appreciated. Surely he was the most fortunate man in England.

“But ye’re here now,” Jordan broke
into his train of thought and he caught the unmistakable seductive tone.

He cuddled her. “Indeed.”

She snuggled against him, smiling as
he kissed her hair, her neck, and inevitably they made love; twice, as the sun
rose in the remarkably cloudless sky. Then they rose, bathed, and dressed
leisurely.

Jordan wore a heavy brocade surcoat
in a rich brown color and pulled her luscious hair back, securing it at the
nape of her neck. William liked her with her hair loosely restrained; he liked
to see her face revealed. She noticed that he had not donned his armor, as he
did ritually every day. He was wearing black breeches, thigh-high black boots
and a fine linen tunic. He looked absolutely dashing.

Jordan had plans for the day. First,
she would take the twins and visit Jemma. Then, she and her cousin would take
the children for a walk in the sunshine so she could get a better look at what the
Scots did to the fortress. Then, they would call on Adam. Then, …

William put up his hands listening
to her schedule. “Are you sure you will be able to accomplish all of this in a
single day? Why are you running yourself ragged?”

“I am not,” she insisted, going to
the nursery with William in pursuit. “I simply have a great many things that I
wish to do today. Will ye join us?”

“For a while,” he said, picking up
Scott. “But I, too, have many things to do today.”

She gathered Troy against her,
smiling at him dotingly. “Like what, pray tell?”

“Things that would not interest you,”
he said, meaning it was none of her business. She gave him a reproachful glare
and he returned with a pleasant smile. “Come, wife. Let us go disturb your
cousin.”

William and Jemma fought over who
was going to hold Scott until Jordan handed her Troy simply to shut her up. Kieran
declared himself lucky to have Lady Jordan all to himself with his wife and
William occupied.

Sylvie and Aloria greeted Jordan
happily and went mad for the boys. Sylvie declared she had never seen such
beautiful children and William proudly agreed. He had never been this proud
over anything in his life, with the exception of his wife. But somehow, his
pride with his children was different. They were a physical part of him; his
flesh and blood, and being proud of them nearly didn’t describe exactly how he
felt. There were not words strong enough to describe how he felt.

Jordan was afraid to ask Sylvie
about her husband for fear the man had perished, but silently promised herself
that she would ask Jemma when they were in private. Tall, blond and plainly
pretty, Aloria seemed to look much happier now than when she had first arrived
at Northwood. Jordan could not help thinking that she wasn’t the only one not
cut out for life at the palace; Aloria was thriving away from that environment
and the fact that Deinwald had returned put an extra sparkle in her eye.

Outside, the repairs were in full
swing. The king’s troop provided a wonderful work force as the outer wall went
up stone by stone. Jordan thought that it was beginning to look a bit like the Northwood
of old with all of the activity and peasants dashing about their business, and
it did her heart good. Mayhap things would indeed return to normal eventually.
But she was curious to know what became of her friends; the cobbler and the
blacksmith and the other craftsmen she had come to know.

Her hand nestled in the crook of
Kieran’s big arm, Jordan strolled into the outer bailey. Behind her, William
and Jemma were arguing over who was the bigger baby. She put an end to the
argument, telling them it was Troy easily. But Jemma had to insist that Scott
had a bigger head.