The Wolfe (102 page)

Michael, Jason and Deinwald, their
torsos stripped naked and sweating in spite of the cool temperature, waved to
the party from their perch atop the western parapet. They had stones and mortar
between them, repairing a broken corner Jordan waved back, admiring Michael’s
magnificent form. He could compete with William on that level, she thought.

“My, my, how I do enjoy half-naked
men,” she remarked loud enough for William to hear her.

Jemma picked up her tone. “As do I,”
she agreed quickly. “Especially Michael; God must have been paying close
attention to his work the day that man was molded.”

“Agreed,” Jordan returned. “Do ye
suppose he knows what kind of effect he has on women? If he keeps that up, we
shall have maidens swooning all over the compound.”

“Kieran, I suddenly feel quite
inferior,” William said casually. “And you?”

Kieran nodded gravely. “As well, my
lord. Personally, I am much better defined than Michael. And you are much better
shaped. I cannot fathom the interest.”

“I concur,” William replied. “For
the sake of the maidens of Northwood, I will order the man to keep his tunic on
from now on.”

“Ye will do no such thing,” Jordan
said over her shoulder. “’Tis a rare and agreeable sight to behold. I hope my
waistline is as fine as his someday.”

William cocked a brow. “Madam, your
waistline is exquisite, and well you know it.”

She smiled coyly at her husband, her
lashes sweeping her cheeks. William grinned back at her.

“Not me,” Jemma put in. “My waist
has gone to fat.”

“Nay, it has not,” Kieran countered
firmly. “It is perfect, as is the rest of you.”

They continued into the outer bailey
and Jordan was relieved to see that the blacksmiths’ shop was semi-operational.
The man looked up and waved enthusiastically at her.

“My lady!” he called. “‘Tis good to
see you have returned. And I see you have born our dead earl twins. How joyous!”

Jordan’s smile faded. She had
forgotten that the population still believed her to be the dead earl’s wife.
She suddenly felt very depressed and saddened.

William was between her and Kieran,
putting Scott into Kieran’s arms. “I will escort my wife now,” he told him
quietly, his gaze on the blacksmith.

He steered her away from the lean-to
and they proceeded along the perimeter of the wall, observing the various
stages of repairs and building going on. Jordan tried to focus on the
construction, attempting to forget the inadvertent words of the blacksmith.

When the group rounded the corner
that led to the kitchens, Jordan suddenly saw a tiny figure dash across the
yard and disappear behind some burnt-out shacks. The certainty of what she saw
forced her to release her hold on her husband’s arm and run after the child.

She ran to the spot where the little
form had disappeared. William came up behind her curiously.

“What?”

“Shhh,” she put her finger to her
lips and knelt down, peering inside the crevice. It was dark, burnt and smelled
of soot.

“Mary Alys?” she called out softly. “Mary
Alys, ‘tis me. Lady Jordan. Are ye in there? Please come out.”

They waited for a few seconds when
they heard some rustling inside the darkness. Something banged and fell down,
and a dirty little face appeared in the light.

“Lady?” Came a tiny voice.

Jordan smiled. “Aye, Mary Alys, ‘tis
me.”

The little girl stepped closer,
within arm’s length. “You came back?”

“I did,” Jordan replied gently. “What
are ye doing hiding in here? ‘Tis dangerous for ye.”

She glanced behind her as if she the
concept was not thought of. “I live here, lady.”

Jordan looked astonished. “You do?”

Mary Alys stepped out of the
shelter, eyeing William with frightened eyes. “My mum wath kilt in the big
fight,” she said. “My houth burnt down, too. I live here now.”

“Ridiculous.” Jordan insisted. “Ye
will do no such thing. I am yer friend, Mary Alys, and I say that ye will come
into the castle and live with me.”

Mary Alys’ pretty gray eyes widened,
“Inside the casthle?”

“Aye,” Jordan said firmly, grasping
the child’s hand. She looked up at her husband, daring him to challenge her. He
gazed back at her with total confidence and trust.

Jordan lowered her gaze and marched
passed him with Mary Alys in tow. “First we shall get ye a bath,” she was
saying. “Ye look as if ye have half the bailey coated on yer little body. Then
we must find ye some suitable clothes.”

Mary Alys mumbled something William
didn’t catch, obviously stunned and pleased at her turn of luck. Poor little
thing could not have been more than five years old. He admired his wife her
generous, gentle soul. It seemed that not only did he have two sons, but he was
to gain a daughter as well. The prospect did not displease him.

Jemma, still holding Troy,
recognized Mary Alys as Jordan approached with her. She had not heard the
exchange and was dismayed when Jordan repeated the story. She, too, demanded
gently that Mary Alys come to live in the castle with them. And that repeated
statement suddenly gave Jordan an idea.

“Mary Alys,” she turned to the
little girl, bending down to her level. “Ye say yer mother died and that ye
have no father?”

The child nodded sadly. Jordan gave
a short nod. “Do ye remember my cousin, Lady Jemma Hage?”

Mary Alys looked at the pretty
brown-haired lady. “Aye.”

Jordan’s voice was soft. “Lady Jemma
lost her little girl not long ago. She is sad with grief, as ye are. She knows
how ye feel to lose someone ye love.”

Mary Alys’ eyes were wide at Jemma,
who gazed back at the child with amazing serenity. William could not ever
remember that expression on Jemma’s face. He began to have suspicions as to
what his wife was leading up to.

“Now she has no daughter, and ye
have no parents,” Jordan went on softly. “‘Tis sad for you both to be so
lonely. How would you like to be Lady Jemma’s daughter?”

Both Jemma and Kieran looked at
Jordan as if she had gone insane. But, at nearly the same time, they looked at
each other as if the thought, and not a bad one at that, had not occurred to
them. Jemma seemed to appear the most hesitant even as Jordan smiled
encouragingly at her, very proud of her solution. When she saw Jemma’s doubt,
she put her free hand on her hip.

“Well, it makes sense.” she
insisted. “Besides, Mary Alys is so pretty if ye dunna take her as yer own,
then I will.”

It was Kieran who finally knelt down
beside Mary Alys, still clutching Scott. He gazed at the dirty little waif
gently.

“My name is Kieran,” he said. “I am
Lady Jemma’s husband.”

“You are a knight,” Mary Alys didn’t
appear the least bit afraid of the massive man.

He smiled, “Aye, I am. Would you like
to be my daughter?”

She was so cute as she looked at him
innocently. “Would you love me?”

Kieran’s heart melted right then. No
matter what Jemma said, he would take this child as his own. “Aye, I would.”

“So would I,” Jemma said, all of her
doubt gone. She suddenly had the most amazing feeling of excitement and
maternal joy. True, Bridget was gone and her heart still ached dreadfully, but
that did not mean that there was no room for another daughter. Somehow the thought
helped dull the pain.

Jordan was thrilled. She took Troy
from Jemma’s arms. “Take yer daughter, Jemma. She’s a filthy mess and I am
embarrassed that ye are so lax in yer duties as a mother.”

Jemma gently took Mary Alys’ hand,
her eyes narrowing in mock outrage. “How dare ye suggest such a thing. I shall
have ye know that my daughter will be the cleanest, prettiest, best-dressed bairn
in all of Northwood. Come along, Mary Alys.”

Kieran handed Scott back to William.
“Perhaps I can help them,” he said softly, his brown eyes finding Jordan. “Thank
you.”

Jordan watched them go with tears in
her eyes. William stood next to her.

“That,” he said softly, “was an
amazing act of kindness, wife. God, you are remarkable.”

Jordan sniffed and blinked away her
tears. “It made sense, English. They’ll be very happy, I know it.”

He leaned over and kissed her
forehead. “I love you.”

Jordan smiled at him, her throat too
tight with emotion to reply. Silently, they took their children back into the
castle.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

That night, after the children were
put down to bed, Jordan and Jemma sat in Jemma’s grand antechamber before a
roaring fire, sitting in comfortable silence. It had been a long time since
they had been alone together.

“How does Mary Alys like her new chamber?”
Jordan asked.

“She loves it,” Jemma replied. “She
kept telling us it was the Queen’s bedchamber. Kieran told her it was a
Princess’ bedchamber because she was a princess. He is remarkable with her,
Jordi. He is a natural father.”

“Mary Alys is a fortunate lass,”
Jordan agreed. “I am so glad you have accepted her.”

Jemma nodded. “She is mine. No
matter that I dinna birth her. She is mine.”

Jordan smiled, tilting her head as
she looked at her cousin. “She even looks like you a little,” she said. “She
has the same color hair, and the same curls as ye.”

“Aye, but her hair is much prettier,”
Jemma replied. “And her eyes are such a beautiful gray. Have ye ever seen
prettier eyes?”

“Aye,” Jordan said with an arrogant
lift of her chin. “On my own sons. Scott’s are pale blue and Troy’s are turning
golden like his father’s.”

“I noticed,” Jemma agreed. “Troy’s
eyes are very unusual. But dinna yer mother have pale blue eyes?”

“I do not remember, of course, but Da
said so,” she said. “In fact, Da said mother was the fairest lass he ever saw.
He said her hair was white-gold silk and her eyes the color of a hot summer
sky.”

“I dunna remember her at all,” Jemma
said, staring into the flame. “We were so young when she died.”

The subject of her mother didn’t
bother Jordan anymore, but it was years before she was able to talk of her without
crying. Now, she could speak of her quiet logically. But speaking of her mother
suddenly brought to the surface questions about her father’s fate and she felt
her chest swelling with anxiety and grief.

“Has Kieran told ye of Langton’s
fate?” she asked her cousin quietly.

“Nay,” Jemma said, saddening. “I
havena asked. I have been a-feared to.”

“Me, too,” Jordan admitted. “Before
William left London he promised me he would go to Langton himself. I havena
even asked him if he did. I almost dunna want to know.”

“But we
must
know,
eventually,” Jemma said.

“I know,” Jordan said dully. “Mayhap…mayhap
we will ask together. We can support each other’s courage.”

“Aye,” Jemma nodded. “‘Tis as good
an idea as any. But ye do the asking.”

“I will,” Jordan replied quietly,
wondering where she was going to find the strength to do it.

***

William and Kieran entered the room
nearly an hour later, having supped in private with the knights. Kieran went
immediately to peek in on Mary Alys for his own peace of mind before greeting
his wife with a kiss to the temple.

“She is swallowed up by that huge
bed,” he chuckled.

William grinned, pouring himself a cup
of wine. “She will grow into it.”

Jordan lifted her cheek for a kiss
as William settled himself in another chair. The four of them were quiet for
several moments, relaxing at the end of a busy day Jordan took a breath and
glanced at Jemma. From the look on her cousin’s face she could tell that they
were thinking the same thing. The time was now; they wanted to know what had
become of Langton and their kin.

“English?” Jordan said softly.

“What, love,” he took a sip of wine.

“Did ye ever go to Langton as ye
promised?” she asked casually.

He froze in mid-swallow. Steadying
himself, he cleared his throat. “Why do you ask me that now?”

“Because ye havena said anything
about it,” she turned to look at him. “Ye promised me when ye left London that
ye would see to my kin. Did ye?”

He sighed. “Aye, I did.”

Jordan’s heart lurched. “And?”

He set down the cup. He knew she was
going to eventually demand answers, but he was dreading giving them. He had
hoped to spare her as long as he could.

“And, it was fairly destroyed, as we
were told,” he said.

She blinked at him, expecting the
answer but shocked nonetheless. “And my kin?”