The Wolfe (112 page)

Then, they were upon lt. There was
no mistaking the sign; two large bushes side-by-side with a boulder to one side
of them; half of the boulder buried in the slope that led up to McKenna Keep.

The four of them began searching,
kicking at the dirt, looking for the signs of a newly dug grave. But the ground
was hard and undisturbed. Puzzled, they ceased exploring for the moment.

“Are you sure he said this was her
grave?” Paris asked.

William nodded. “He told me to find
her here.”

Michael had begun probing the
boulder, running his fingers along the edge of it. “My lord,” he said after a
moment. “The ground is giving way. ‘Tis very loose.”

William and Paris were instantly at
the boulder. “Do you think she’s under this thing?” Paris asked of no one in
particular, horrified at the mere thought.

William could not even allow himself
the thought of the horror that idea provoked. He, too, ran his fingers along
the edge and felt the dirt give way. He shook at the boulder and was amazed to find
it unusually light.

“Let’s see if we can move this
aside,” he said, his voice dull.

The knights positioned themselves
around the rock when suddenly, out of the cover of the trees, there was a loud
booming yell that sent their hair standing on end. The first thought racing into
all four minds was an ambush, and they immediately whirled with swords in hand.

Jason, the closest knight to the
attacker, barely had time to react when a sword caught him in the back of the
neck, cutting through his mail and nearly severing his head from his body. He
was dead before he hit the ground.

William, broadsword arcing, cut the
offender down with a deft blow to the chest. The man wore no armor and was
cleanly gutted, dead, too, as he hit the ground.

Two men dead in mere seconds.
William and his men braced themselves for more enemy soldiers, but the trees
were quiet except for the hum of lichen and the sounds of the distant battle.

Michael knelt to Jason as William
and Paris stood over the dead Scot; they knew Jason was beyond help. The Scot
was a fat man bearing McKenna tartan; older with a scraggly beard and dirty
hair. He wore a few pieces of armor but nothing functional, and he wore no
scabbard for his sword. He looked half-dressed to them and they wondered what
he was doing hanging out in the trees, away from the battle like a coward. They
assumed he was an old fool, too old to fight but not too old to pretend he might
be of some use.

They had no idea they were gazing on
the remains of Dunbar McKenna.

Turning away from the scot, William
passed a lingering glance at Jason Gray. Young, foolish, but a good knight, he
was deeply sorry. Michael was bent praying over the young lad, making the sign
of the cross when he had finished. Over his shoulder he heard Paris mumbling a
prayer and making the sign of the cross as well.

As regretful as William was, he
could not spare the emotion for the knight. The only praying he would be doing
would be for his wife, when he found her. He moved back to the boulder.

“Help me with this,” he said
hoarsely.

Paris and Michael obeyed, moving to
different positions around the rock and throwing their backs into it. After the
first couple of shoves, the boulder finally budged ever so slightly.
Encouraged, and with a fear fed by adrenalin, William barked inspiring words as
they rocked in unison, slowly moving the boulder bit by bit.

They stopped for a moment and
re-examined the slope surrounding the boulder and discovered that there was
some sort of cave or hole underneath it. Bile rose in William’s throat when he
saw that they were getting closer. Above them, in the distance, they could
still hear the sounds of a fierce battle and the smoke in the air grew heavier.

“Again,” William was filled with
dread. But he had to get to her.      

“How in the hell did they get this
rock here?” Paris demanded with a grunt. “Seems like an awful bit of trouble to
me just to cover a grave.”

Michael gave a loud groan as they
pushed in unison and the boulder gave a bit more. “It must’ve taken twenty of
the bastards to carry it here.”

“Shut up and keep pushing.” William
grunted.

After several laborious, endless minutes,
they had managed to move the stone about two feet, enough room for them to do
what needed to be done.

William rested against the stone for
a brief moment, feeling the horror of what he was about to see sweeping over him
but fighting against it. He had to remain in control just a while longer. He noticed
that Paris and Michael had stood back, allowing him the first few moments of
the discovery to himself.

With a sigh of utter reluctance, he
stood away from the gap and gazed down into it, seeing nothing. With tremendous
hesitation, his heart pounding in his ears, he crouched down and peered into
the inky hole. Jordan’s face confronted him almost immediately.

But she wasn’t dead. She was on her
hands and knees, looking up at him.

“William!” she gasped in surprise.

William was so stunned that he fell
back onto his arse. Shock was not a pertinent term; astonishment was a more
fitting description.
Utter
astonishment. Dear God, she was
alive.

Not being able to see his face
through his helmet, Jordan was unaware of his amazement. In fact, she wasn’t
all that surprised to see him, for she thought Malcolm had sought William out
and sent him to rescue her.

“Dunna sit there!” she demanded
irritably. “Help me out of this hole. ‘Tis not good for a pregnant woman to be
crawling around on the damp ground, all cold and dirty. I shall catch my death
while ye loll on yer behind, English.”

He began to shake violently. When he
lifted his hands to his helmet, she could see that they were shaking and when
he ripped off his helm and she saw the astonishment on his face, she was
genuinely puzzled and concerned.

“Are ye all right?” she asked
softly. “What is wrong?”

He chuckled, coming out as more of a
cough.
What is wrong, she asks?
Suddenly he was back on his knees,
pulling her from the tunnel and clutching her to him with a death grip. Jordan
threw her arms around his neck, holding onto him for dear life. But, truly, she
had never been honestly worried; she had always known he would come for her.

“William,” she tried to push away
from him but he was squeezing her too hard. “English, I canna breathe.”

“God, Jordan.” he whispered huskily
into her hair, his voice filled with tears. “Are you all right, love?”

“I am fine. Oh, English, I knew ye’d
come!” She pushed against him hard enough to be able to look into his eye. “Did
Malcolm find ye? Where is he?”

William was dazed and confused,
delighted and overwhelmed. “What are you talking about?”

“My cousin, Malcolm,” she repeated
patiently. “He helped Callie and I escape to the little room back there,” she
pointed back down the tunnel. “He said he had to go and unblock the secret exit.”
She shook her head at him with puzzlement. “Dinna he find ye and ask ye to help
him? He knew ye had come for me, too.”

William stared at her with amazement
and growing horror. “He
helped
you?”

“Aye, he did,” she replied with a
nod. She looked incredibly beautiful and composed. He was a wreck.

He shook his head slowly, his mind
boggled. “Oh, my God,” he mumbled. “Jordan, I thought he had killed you. I
found him in the bailey and ran him through. With his dying breath he told me
to find you in the gully to the north, between two bushes and under a boulder.
My God, I thought he was talking about your grave.”

She stared back at him, “Nay,” she
whispered in horror, then louder. “Nay! William, he was telling you where to
find me. ‘Tis the secret passage from the wall.”

William’s mouth opened and closed
shut tightly with the horror of the mistake he had made. He had killed Malcolm
thinking the man had slain his wife when, in fact, he should have pledged him
his life. But he hadn’t known any better.

“Oh, Jordan,” he breathed. “I am so
sorry, love. I killed him. I thought he was responsible for everything.”

Her eyes were filled with tears. “He
was responsible for a lot of it, But in the end he helped Callie and I, out of
guilt, I think. If it wasna for him, we would still be holed up in the barred
room.”

William exhaled sharply, dealing
with the overwhelming knowledge. As bad as he felt about killing Malcolm, the
only thing that mattered was that Jordan was alive and well in his arms. His
joy overrode his guilt as he gazed back at her.

“Are you sure you are all right?” he
smiled with tentative joy.

She nodded, wiping at her eyes and
returning his smile. “Aye, I am.”

He kissed her reverently, her face,
her eyes. She sighed raggedly at his touch, new tears of joy stinging her eyes.
Her courage was fading, replaced by the dependent need for her husband. There
was no longer any need for her to show courage and she was quickly becoming an
emotional bundle.

“I ought to bend you over my knee
right here,” he whispered against her temple. “How could you have done
something so foolish?”

“I wanted to see my Da and ye
wouldna take me,” she answered, her throat tight. “They killed him, too.”

“Nay, they did not,” William
replied. “We found him on the road. He is quite well.”

She gazed back at him; now, it was
her turn to be astonished. “He lives? Oh, English, ‘tis a miracle. The last I
saw of him, he was surrounded by a dozen McKenna soldiers.”

“I assure you, he is very much
alive,” her husband said. “Come now, stand up. We’ve got to get you out of
here.”

He pulled his wife gently to her
feet and she was immediately confronted with the bodies of Jason and Dunbar.
She screamed, burying her face in William’s armor.

He patted her gently. “Jason felt no
pain. He is a knight and death is a part of that vocation.”

“I know.” she cried, muffled, into
his breastplate. “Who killed Dunbar?”

He pulled her face up to look at him.
“You know that man?”

She nodded hesitantly. “’Tis Dunbar
McKenna. Was the fight a fierce one?”

William glanced at Paris and Michael
in wonder. “Not verily,” he replied. He had killed the infamous Dunbar McKenna
and had unknowingly accomplished what he had set out to do. But he didn’t dwell
on it; it was over and he simply wanted to get his wife to safety.

“Let’s go,” he said to her.

“Wait,” she pulled away from him and
poked her head back into the tunnel opening. “Callie? Come out now. ‘Tis safe.”

There was some rustling inside the
tunnel, growing louder. “Who’s there, Jordan? Who are ye talking to?”

“My husband, ye silly goose.” she
called back. “Hurry up.”

Caladora Scott emerged from the
tunnel a few seconds later and the knights had a good look at the third of the
Scott women. Her hair was a glorious shade of golden red, thick and faintly
wavy. When she stood her full height, she was at least a head taller than her
cousin and with the same beautiful pale green eyes. She was a very lovely girl,
graceful and slim with incredibly white skin.

Jordan took her cousin’s hand and smiled
at her husband. “This is my cousin, Lady Caladora Scott. Callie, this is my husband,
William de Wolfe, Baron Kilham.”

Caladora’s big eyes widened. “Ye’re The
Wolf?” she blurted. “Ye dunna look at all like I imagined.”

The knights chuckled softly. “I hope
that is good, my lady,” William smiled at her.

Embarrassed, Caladora blushed
prettily and lowered her gaze. “I am sorry, ‘tis not what I meant to say. ‘Tis
a pleasure to meet ye, sire.”

“And you, my lady,” William said,
wishing there was more time for formalities, but he had to get the women to
safety. “Paris, Michael, find the destriers. We shall take them out on
horseback.”

Jordan happened to catch of glimpse
of Paris’ face as he left then. His gaze lingered exceedingly long on Caladora
and Jordan was alerted to his thoughts. Amidst the pain and shock of the day,
she felt a ray of joy and had to hide her grin.

Caladora suddenly gasped and Jordan
knew she had seen the bodies, especially Dunbar’s.

“He is dead, Callie,” she said
softly. “He canna hurt us again.”

William put his big body
protectively between the women and the two dead men, shielding them from the
unpleasantness. Pulling his wife against him and saying a silent prayer to God
for her safety, he waited for his men to return. His thanks, his relief, went
beyond words.

Caladora studied William’s face
intently as he held Jordan against him and she was astonished at the depth of
emotions she read. Without even knowing him, she could see that everything
Jordan had told her was true. They were very much in love, and Caladora was
thrilled and jealous at the same time. Would she ever be so lucky?