The Wolfe (118 page)

“I would never allow my wife such a
display,” Andrew said, loud enough for them all to hear.

William and the others turned slowly
to look at him. It was such a ridiculous statement that they all suddenly burst
out laughing. Obviously, the man had never gone up against a headstrong Scot.
And, obviously, he had never been in love.

Andrew looked at them curiously but
did nothing more than shrug to emphasize his point.

Michael and Deinwald joined the
others as Jordan, Jemma and Caladora took their places in front of the swords.
A hush settled over the crowd as Jemma signaled to the musicians. Paris and William
stood huddled together, their critical expressions growing soft.

“God, she has magnificent legs,”
Paris murmured.

“Aye, she does,” William agreed
softly.

“You are a married man. You should
not be agreeing so readily,” Paris admonished him.

William passed him an impatient
glance. “I was talking about my wife.”

Paris grinned wolfishly. “I wasn’t.”

The music began, quick and lively,
and made everyone sit up and take notice. Jemma and Caladora, on the ends,
suddenly leapt to their toes and began to jump and twitch and skirt the swords
in perfect synchronization. After a few seconds of that, they froze in the
pretty position they were in and Jordan followed, mimicking their movements
exactly but putting a little spin into her routine as she, too, ended in the
same position her cousins were in. When she spun around, her plaid belled up
and revealed the entire length of luscious leg. William, as entranced as he was
with his wife’s dancing, had this horrible fear that every person present would
be able to see her most private part and was relieved to see that she wore some
sort of strange briefs underneath. He found himself sighing with relief, reminding
himself to yell at her later for giving him such a scare.

The music quickened and so did then
dancing. They were as quick as foxes, their toes twitching and then legs kicking,
huge smiles on their faces. They moved together with such precision that they
almost looked to be of one brain. It was the type of dance that left the
audience hanging from one move to the next, watching and waiting with
excitement.

At one point they did a little jig
about their respective swords, then each girl took a hop to the right, and the
two remaining girls did a jig about that set of swords. Then they hopped to
then right again, leaving the last girl, Caladora, doing a solo jig before
jumping entirely free of the swords.

Next, in a line with Jordan in the
lead, they proceeded to spin in a wide circle around the swords, spinning like
tops with hair flying and plaid twisting about them. It was so perfect, so measured
and so beautiful that when they resumed their dancing atop the swords, the
audience went wild even though the dance wasn’t through yet.

William was grinning like a fool.
He’d seen his wife dance before, but never this. Was there nothing the woman could
not do? He was as proud as a new father when he suddenly remembered Jordan’s
father was watching, too. A glance in the man’s direction showed him to be moved
to smiles and tears.

The dance ended abruptly and the
audience went mad, screaming and pounding the tables and calling for more.
Quickly, and somewhat humbly, the women bowed and Jordan raced to her husband’s
side, motioning for Michael and Deinwald to retrieve the swords.

She threw herself into his arms, all
smiles and laughter and panting. He held her tightly, kissing her sweaty cheek
and listening to the cries for more.

“You were wonderful,” he exclaimed.

She laughed, trying to catch her
breath. “Oh, my, it has been a long time.” she gasped. “I am exhausted.”

“They want more of the same.” Paris
demanded. “Listen to them.”

Jordan listened to the applause and
yells, thrilled with their approval but shaking her head all the same. “Callie
and Jemma can, but I am too tired,” she let out a blustery breath and leaned
into her husband. “Having babies makes me tired.”

“I am finished, too.” Jemma said
firmly, in Kieran’s arms. “I feel as if I have just run the entire way from Langton
to Northwood.”

Thomas pushed his way through the
knights and Jordan embraced him happily. “Da, were ye pleased? We did it for ye.”

“Aye,” he pulled back, looking into
her smiling face. Ye were wonderful, as ye always are. Just like old times.”

“Then we shall do it every night
until Jemma and I get too big to move,” she declared.

He grinned. “If yer husband allows
it, Jordi.” Was all he would say, indeed wanting to see her dance every night
but realizing William wasn’t keen on the traditional costume she wore in front
of all of these people.

The applause died down and the music
began again, this time a traditional English ballad. The diners turned back to
their food and their conversation.

“Now, madam, you will change from
that…skirt,” William took her by the arm. “We will return shortly.”

Thomas watched them go, followed by
Kieran and Jemma, and Paris and Caladora. He sighed, realizing how much his
life and their lives had changed. But it was a good change, he decided. A very
good change. He moved over to join his brother and his nephews.

Caladora and Jemma returned to Jemma’s
apartments while William and Jordan retired to theirs. The twins were asleep,
vigilantly watched by Sylvie and the maids. William checked on the boys before
joining his wife in the bedchamber.

She already had her plaid off, yards
of the material laying on the floor and was stripping off the linen tunic she
wore. William went and sat on the bed, eyeing the briefs that covered her
slender hips.

“What are those things?” he motioned
to them.

The tunic came off and she stood
clad only in the briefs, running her hand over them. They hugged her hips and
cut high in the leg, made from very soft linen.

“I wear these when we dance,” she
shrugged. “So people wunna see my bottom.”

Fire raced through William’s loins.
He found the peculiar things very enticing. He stood up and Jordan recognized
the look of passion on his face. She smiled in anticipation.

His clothes came off and he was all
over her, licking and suckling and kissing. The briefs stayed on until he could
stand it no longer and ripped them off with his teeth.

Jordan laughed softly at his haste.
He grinned in return, turning her over on her stomach and giving gentle
attention to the backside of her. Not wanting to put his weight on the new
babe, he would make love to her as he had been doing since he found out she was
carrying. Lifting her hips up until she was supported by her knees, he gripped
her firmly as he drove himself into her waiting body from behind.

Jordan loved it this way, the
pressure and sensations were so different that it brought an instantaneous moan
of pleasure from her lips. Within the first few hard thrusts she was climaxing,
her hair askew all over the pillow as she hung her head, savoring the
contractions until they faded away and left her feeling warm and relaxed and limp.

William’s hands left her hips and
moved up to her full breasts, grabbing onto them like anchors and pulling her
up against his body as he rocked into her. Even though she had achieved her
pleasure, the pure animalistic mating ritual brought pants of sheer euphoria
from both of them until he released himself into her forcefully, still
clutching her to him as if to never let her go.

When they fell forward on the bed,
he made sure to turn them both onto their sides and away from the baby. He
continued to hold her gently, stroking her arms and running his fingers through
her hair as he stared dreamily off into the dim room. Jordan dozed in his arms,
purely content. It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep and her
breathing became regular and steady.

He smiled, kissing her hair. God,
how he loved her.

***

He was up before dawn, prowling
Northwood like the days of old, forgetting it was now Paris who was in charge
of the fortress. His friend met him in the inner bailey, the pink sky
reflecting on his blond hair. William immediately caught his expression and
deduced that something was wrong.

“What is it?” he demanded before any
greeting.

Paris held up a scroll of parchment.
“This. It came last night for you.”

William looked at it as if he could
read through the paper and knew the message already. After a long, reluctant
moment he took it.

“From Henry,” he murmured as he
broke the seal. “I knew it. ‘Twas only a matter of time before….” He broke
off and began to read.

It was a short missive. Almost as
soon as he opened it he was closing it.

“I am called back to London,” he
said simply, emotionlessly.

Paris nodded, knowing as much. “When?”

William became brisk and
business-like, not wishing to dwell on the unpleasantries he knew were bound to
come. “I will be sending six men on to Questing today. I would like Roan and
Michael to take them, and anyone else you can spare. I shall be taking Kieran
and Deinwald with me.”

“Aye, I can spare someone –
me
,”
Paris said curtly. “I shall get your fortress up and running while you are in
London.”

William nodded. “I would appreciate
it,” he said, his gaze lingering on Paris for a moment. “Paris, we’ve never
discussed this, but what do you plan to do when I take possession of Questing?
Will you stay here at Northwood or go with me?”

Paris met his gaze, pausing but a
moment. “I have given it a great deal of thought, William, have no doubt,” he
said slowly. “You are my closest friend and my greatest source of inspiration. But
you do not need me. Adam, however, does. He is young and inexperienced and
needs a firm, wise hand to guide him. He has come to depend on me a great deal
and I feel that it would be unfair to leave him, considering the majority of
the knights, if given the choice, will go with you. In my heart, I feel that I
must stay here.”

William looked at him, his heart
saddened but understanding completely. “Then I will miss you, my friend,” he
said after a moment; his throat tight. “And you may do me another favor while I
am away. If Adam has no objections, then approach the knights with the choice
of where they wish to serve. Those who choose to serve at Questing may go there
and wait for me to return from London.”

“I know of only two knights who will
stay here at Northwood,” Paris said. “Ranulf, although he lives to serve you,
feels much as I do. Adam needs Ranulf to handle the men-at-arms and you already
have Deinwald for that duty. And Corin and Adam are the best of friends; they
are both young. You see, William, we knew this day would come and each man has
already made up his mind. When you return to Questing, you will find Michael,
Marc, and Roan waiting for you. Corin, Ranulf and I will remain here.”

The more William thought about it,
the more he wanted Paris with him. They had been together for so long it was as
if he was having an arm amputated. Yet he would have felt the same way if
Kieran had decided to stay. He was so fortunate in that he had two right-hand
men he could trust.

“If I thought begging you would
change your mind, I would do it,” he said softly, clapping Paris on the
shoulder. “It will not be the same without you.”

Paris smiled uncomfortably. “Stop
it, William, or you shall have me bawling like a woman. You know you will never
face a battle without me, I swear lt.”

“Nor will you,” William replied,
glancing at the parchment in his hand. He took a deep breath. “I had better go
inform my wife of our future plans. Lord knows, she will not be happy to hear
this.”

He left Paris with a friendly smile
and a warm handshake. Much to William’s surprise, his wife was quite calm about
the whole thing. Almost instantaneously she whipped out her traveling satchel
and began to pack. He watched her, knowing how her heart must be breaking to be
separated so soon from her family, but she was reacting how she thought he
would want her to react; there was nothing she could do about it, therefore,
she must deal with it.

“Jordan,” he said softly as she
stuffed garments into the bag. “Love, look at me.”

She stopped abruptly and looked at him,
her face artificially void of emotion. “What?”

He smiled sadly and pulled her to
his massive chest, burying his face in the top of her head. She held onto him,
drawing strength from him.

“I am sorry,” he said.

“For what?” she asked. “For being so
magnificent and skilled that Henry would demand that ye champion him? ‘Tis
nothing to be sorry for, English; ‘tis an honor to serve yer king.”

“Well-rehearsed, wife,” he said. “What
I meant is that I am sorry you must leave your father and family. Unless, of
course, you would rather stay. I would not fault you.”

She looked up at him sharply. “Never,”
she said emphatically. “My place is with ye, wherever ye go. And I would not
leave ye alone in London with all of those court wenches hot for yer body.”