The Wolfe (121 page)

He snatched her wrists and pulled
her up to sit so fast that she was dizzy with the suddenness of the movement.
Instantly, he was on his knees in front of her, pushed between her legs and
glaring at her with an expression that scared her to death.

“Listen to me well, madam” his voice
was low. “There is no one on this earth more desirable than you, and especially
not to me. You are neither fat nor have you ever been even remotely ugly and I
will not listen to you belittle yourself in that manner. I cannot count the
times I have told you how beautiful you are or how much I love you and I have
no idea where your insecurity is born. But you will cease with it this instant.
I have eyes for none other but you, as you well know.”

She stared back at him, wide-eyed,
and swallowed hard. “Ye’re hurting my wrists, English,” she whispered.

He slackened his grip but continued
to hold onto her, staring hard at her as if to forcibly make her understand his
statement. He was sorry he had been so harsh with her, but her ridiculous words
infuriated him.

He sighed after a moment, his gaze
softening. “Do I have six more months of this paranoia to look forward to?”

Relieved he wasn’t truly angry, she
nodded with a smile. “I am afraid so. I nearly drove Paris daft with it.”

He rolled his eye with comical
dread, kissing her hands lovingly before releasing her wrists. “This room is
destroyed quite thoroughly.”

She sighed wearily and tucked her
legs underneath her body, watching her husband pick his way among the mess,
righting chairs as he went.

“I will have a lot of cleaning to do
tonight,” she agreed, watching his broad back. “I am sorry, English. Sometimes
I think I am possessed.”

He smiled, the dimples in his cheeks
like deep grooves. “Do not worry about it, love. We are not staying.”

“What do ye mean?” she perked up.

He turned and smiled broadly at her.
“My meeting with Henry went well,” he said with satisfaction. “So well, in fact
that we leave for Questing on the morrow.”

Her mouth popped open.” What…what do
ye mean?”

“You did not give me a chance to
tell you, what with all of this fighting and ranting that you have been doing,”
he said. “Our king, in his ultimate wisdom, has decided to release me from my
obligation as king’s champion and has bade us return to Questing to resume my
new post as Warden of the North Border.”

Jordan was stunned. “But Henry was
so intent on keeping ye as his champion. What in the world changed his mind?”

William shrugged. “He knew I wasn’t
happy here in London,” he said quietly. “Although I did what was asked of me
and did it perfectly, Henry knew that my heart was not in it. He was being
selfish, of course, as a monarch is allowed to be because he wanted The Wolf as
his champion. Even to Henry I bring some sort of prestige. But even he realizes
that I served him better in the north.”

“But who will champion him now?” she
asked, concerned that if the king didn’t have another champion right away he
would change his mind and demand that William stay.

“Captain Steven Brockenhurst,” he
told her. “It seems the king was most impressed with his performance in the
north against the clans and with de Troiu gone, the opportunity presented
itself. I could not be more pleased.”

Jordan rose to her knees on the bed,
her expression reflecting the fact that she was coming to understand they were
leaving London for good. “Then we are truly leaving this place for home?
Our
home?”

He loved the look of happiness in
her eyes. “Aye, love,” he murmured. “We are going home.”

She began to giggle with joy and he
went to her, taking her into his arms and swinging her around gaily. She gasped
and laughed, ordering him to stop manhandling her but loving it just the same.
He kissed her loudly on the cheek.

“Oh, English, I can hardly believe
it,” she said as she gazed at him deeply, relishing the love and contentment she
felt for him. “‘Tis almost too good to believe with everything that has
happened to us. To actually live as man and wife, in our own keep… it is a
dream.”

He wiggled his brows. “And not just
any keep, love - Castle Questing. Northwood should be so mighty.”

She shook her head in awe. “‘Tis
hard to imagine a fortress mightier than Northwood. When do we leave?”

He laughed at her eager question. “Is
tomorrow morning too late?”

“Nay!” she cried. “Jemma and I will
pack this night.” Suddenly, her face fell and she looked rather fearfully at
him. “Kieran and Jemma will live with us, will they not?”

He put her back on the bed so she would
not step on the broken glass. “Aye, Kieran and Jemma, and Michael, Marc, Roan
and Deinwald.”

She immediately looked suspicious. “What
about Paris? Why not Paris?”

The sadness in his face and voice
was evident. “He chooses to stay at Northwood and help Adam run the place. As
much as he wants to come with us, he knows he is needed more at Northwood.
Believe me, Jordan, ‘twas a most difficult decision for him to make and for me
to accept. He is my best friend in the world, outside of you.”

She blinked, her eyes stinging with
tears. “I will miss him.”

He smiled sadly. “So will I, but I
understand his reasons. Yet the majority of my knights save Paris, Ranulf and
Corin, will be with us at Questing. And for that, I am satisfied.”

She gave a brief nod. “Then I am,
too. Oh, English, I am excited!”

He gave into her excitement, her joy
at moving to their new home. “Me, too.”

They grinned at each other like two
children with a giddy secret.

“And Aloria will come with us, too.”
She was thinking aloud. “And my Da, and Uncle Matthew and Ian and Cord, and
Cala….” Her face suddenly froze. “Callie! We will be taking her from Paris.”

William didn’t look overly concerned.
“She cannot stay at Northwood un-chaperoned,” he said. “Besides, ‘twill give
Paris an excuse to visit us every week if Caladora lives at Questing.”

Jordan nodded, liking that idea. He
smiled at her now that she seemed satisfied knowing her immediate future. Yet,
he still had one more surprise for her.

“Now, change into some clean
clothes,” he swept away a clean spot in the floor for her to stand. “We have an
appointment for supper.”

“Appointment? Where?” she asked.

William smiled happily. “My brother,
Robert, is here at Windsor and is dying to meet you.”

“Yer brother, the earl?” she gasped.
“Well, why dunna ye say so sooner? I must bathe and wash my hair and I…!”

He laughed, leaving her to fret and
worry. As he passed through the antechamber, he heard his wife yelling for Jemma
as well as any battle commander and paused for a moment at the door leading
from the apartments.

“I shall be back in an hour,” he
called to her.

“Two!” she screamed back.

He laughed again and quit the room.

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

Two and a half hours later, Jordan
and William stood outside of his brother’s apartments at Windsor. Jordan looked
as beautiful as he had ever seen her in a red satin surcoat that revealed
plenty of her full breasts. Her freshly washed hair was free and flowing,
smelling like an entire field of lavender and William was having a difficult
time concentrating on anything other than her.

“English, what if he hates me?” she
whispered as her husband rapped on the door.

He gave her a scowl letting her know
just what he thought of that statement just as the door flew open and Jordan nearly
jumped from her skin.

Immediately there was a tall,
well-dressed man standing in the archway, smiling happily at her and she knew
that it was William’s brother. He was an older version of her husband with the
same golden eyes and his hair with a bit of gray but there was no mistaking the
resemblance. He tore his eyes away from Jordan long enough to look at William.

“This is her?” he asked
incredulously. “My God, William, no wonder you wanted to retreat to Questing
with your wife. How in the hell did you manage to marry such an exquisite
creature.”

Jordan was blushing madly. William
gave his brother an irritated smirk and put his arm around his wife, guiding
her into the room.

“Not much of a greeting, even for
you,” he said, then looked at Jordan. “Love, I am sure you have guessed by now
who this is. Robert, meet my wife, Lady Jordan Scott de Wolfe.”

Robert Richard Christopher de Wolfe,
the Earl of Wolverhampton, put his arms around Jordan when she went to curtsy.

“Don’t you dare act formally in my
presence,” he ordered. “I would display my affection for the woman that tamed
my youngest brother.”

She returned his pleasant hug. Then she
noticed a woman coming up behind him, a very pretty woman, with light brown hair.
The woman’s blue eyes studied her nicely enough.

“Robert?” the woman put her hand on
his arm. “Tell me that this is Jordan.”

Robert nodded. “I could scarce
believe it when I opened the door,” he said. “My little brother has done
unbelievably well for himself, would not you say? Lady Jordan, this is my wife,
Lady Giselle.”

Giselle took Jordan’s hand in her
soft one. “Lady Jordan, what a pleasure it is. I see that everything William
has told us is true.”

“Thank ye, my lady,” she said. “I am
so glad to meet ye.”

Giselle looked at William. “She’s
adorable.” she exclaimed with a wrinkle of her nose. “And her accent is
charming.”

William nodded gallantly. “I thank
you, both of you, for everything you say is true,” he helped his wife remove
her cloak. “She is all that and more.”

A serving wench took her cloak and
Giselle clutched her arm, leading her over to the warm conversation area near
the hearth. She felt very comfortable but still glanced over her shoulder to
make sure her husband was near her. He and Robert were close behind, William
taking a place by the chair his wife was settled in. Giselle sat opposite her.

“We were so surprised to hear that
William had finally wed,” Giselle said. “And doubly surprised it was a Scot
lass that had caught him. We had no idea what to expect.”

Robert cleared his throat and Giselle
suddenly realized what she must have sounded like. She was a sweet woman, but a
little dense. “I simply meant that William has been fighting Scots most of his
life,” she put in quickly. “We never expected him to marry one.”

“Or marry at all, for that matter,”
Robert’s brown eyes grazed his brother’s form. “‘Twas hard to believe the
mighty Wolf was snared. Jonathan still refuses to believe it.”

“Well, it is true,” William said,
his gaze lingering lovingly on his wife. “Jonathan is simply jealous that I
married before he did.”

“Jonathan is yer other brother?”
Jordan asked him softly.

“Aye,” Robert answered for her
husband. “He’s dark, like we are, but swarthier.”

“And shorter,” William snorted.

Robert nodded with a smirk. “But
he’s a terror with a sword. He taught William everything he knows.”

William looked doubtfully at his
brother. “Now, I would not go so far as to say that. I learned a bit on my own.”

“Of course you did.” Robert said
with a wink. “‘Else you would not have become The Wolf of the border. Even
Jonathan isn’t that good. Lord, we’re proud of our baby brother.”

Jordan grinned at William’s discomfort.
“So am I,” she said.

“What attracted you to my brother,
Jordan?” Robert broke into the warm moment between them.

Jordan looked up at the earl. “His
beauty, of course; inside and outside.”

Giselle smiled. “You cannot ask for
anything more than that, William. A woman who sees you for what you are.”

William put his hand on his wife’s
shoulder. “And she loved me, anyway.”

“I understand you are expecting
again,” Giselle said eagerly. “William was nearly bursting with pride to tell
us.”

Jordan nodded. This woman talked
faster than anyone she had ever heard. “Aye,” she said, “And our sons, Scott
and Troy, are at Northwood and thriving.”

Robert snorted into his wine. “Twins,”
he said. “My God, William, you must have had her abed day and night to beget
twins.”

Giselle shot her husband a most
reproachful glare before turning back to her guests. “You must forgive my
husband, dear. Sometimes he speaks before thinking,” she said. “We have yet to
be blessed with heirs, but I am still hopeful. I am not so old that I still
cannot conceive.”

Jordan was a little taken aback that
she was speaking so openly about such a private subject. She opened her mouth
to reply timidly but Giselle didn’t give her the chance.

“We have tried everything the
physician suggested,” she said. “Standing on my head, copulating during a full
moon, before my menses, after my menses. But, after sixteen years of marriage,
nothing has worked thus far. What is your method, dear, if I might ask?”