The Wolfe (124 page)

Jordan brought her arms up and wound
them around his neck. Together they giggled almost hysterically, their relief
evident in that they thought this moment might never come. The little boy being
tended by his father’s friend had been through a lifetime of worry before he
had even been born.

“He is beautiful, Jordan,” William
kissed her over and over. “Just like his mother.”

She was crying more now, the jubilation
wearing off and being replaced by sheer relief. His kisses were more tender,
more reverent, as he stroked her damp hair.

“I love ye, English,” she whispered.
“Bloody hell, I am tired.”

“I have no doubt,” Paris said as he
swaddled the babe as well as any midwife. “This child is as big as any I have
ever seen.”

William and Jordan looked over as
Paris brought their son over to them. William propped her up on some pillows as
she accepted the dark-haired boy, cooing sweetly to him and admiring his size.

Paris, meanwhile, carefully delivered
the afterbirth and wrapped it up for burial. When he was finished, he moved
quietly for the door to allow the parents time alone with their new son when
Byron suddenly came bursting in, faster than anyone could ever remember seeing
him move.

William and Jordan grinned at the
little man. “Too late, Byron,” William said. “My son would not wait for you.”

Byron peered at the infant. “Looks
healthy enough,” he observed. “Who delivered him? Not that one, I hope.” He
tilted his head in Paris’ direction.

Paris smirked. “Nay, Oh Great
Devil’s Apprentice. I simply assisted and the baron did the rest.”

Byron, used to Paris’ jibes, ignored
the man and settled himself between Jordan’s legs. “Well, the mother tore a
bit, but other than that she appears all right.” His eyes found William’s for
the first time and he cracked an ancient smile. “Good work, baron.”

William smiled weakly, feeling
incredibly tired all of a sudden but yet at the same time, not sleepy in the
least. He kissed his wife’s forehead, loving her more than words could express.
She had did as she promised, and gave him a third son.

William celebrated for the rest of
night the birth of Patrick John Thomas de Wolfe.

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

One week later and two weeks
overdue, Jemma delivered a huge, healthy baby boy after fourteen of the longest
hours in Kieran’s life.

Alec Matthew Jeffrey Hage was
christened along with his cousin Patrick in the small chapel of Northwood,
cradled in their fathers’ arms and surrounded by a host of male relatives and
non-relatives. Caladora was nearly the only female in attendance, standing in
for both mothers, who were still confined to bed.

Time passed quickly and the children
thrived. Within six weeks, Jordan had regained her figure and her vigor and
took total delight in taking care of her sons herself. Except for the wet
nurse, she insisted on doing everything by herself as if trying to make up for
the time she was unable to do anything at all. William tried to reason with her
but she was determined, and with resignation he allowed it. He feared she would
tire herself out, but she appeared to be limitless.

One bright April morning, Jordan and
Jemma took the children out for a walk around the compound. The weather was
beginning to warm and turn heavenly and they could all use a dose of sunshine.
Jordan held Patrick, his dark little head peeking out from beneath the blankets
and clutched Scott with her other hand. Jemma held Alec in one arm and gripped
Troy with her free hand as Mary Alys tagged along behind. The sun was glorious
and Jordan’s spirits were good, for it was the first time she had been out for
months and her body was fairly aching for air and sunlight.

She and Jemma talked and talked as
the twins screamed and pulled, trying to break away while Mary Alys tried to
calm them down. With all of the noise and movement, kids screaming and babies
yelling, Jordan had never been happier.

They rounded the corner into the
outer bailey, planning to head towards the practice field to see if they could
find their husbands, who had been missing all morning. Almost immediately they
ran into Ranulf, who took pity on them and clutched a twin in each big hand.
Troy didn’t want to leave his Aunt Jemma and fought the whole way, while Scott
didn’t want anyone to hold his hand and took to going limp as a rag. Ranulf
seemed to remember the lad’s mother using a similar tactic and talked softly to
the boy until he stood on his own feet. At fourteen months of age, they were
already brilliant little terrors.

There were several men on the field,
sweating under the newly warm sun, but neither William nor Kieran were there.
They saw Deinwald and Michael working with the new knights, but they were the
only men they recognized.

Puzzled, Jordan turned to Ranulf. “Where
did my husband go?”

“He, Kieran, Paris and Roan rode out
early, my lady,” he told her. “I know not where they went.”

Jemma shrugged. “Probably to
Questing.”

Jordan agreed. “William canna stay
away from that place. The sooner we move there, the better. At least I shall be
able to see him once in a while.”

Ranulf bit his tongue. When they
moved there, so would the children, and he was becoming quite attached to the
little devils. In fact, he feared the life would go right out of Northwood once
William and his entourage left. He was sorely tempted to go with them.

Caladora came up behind them, her
pretty face glowing, Jordan and Jemma smiled broadly in response.

 “Callie.” Jordan exclaimed. “Where
have ye been? We went looking for ye earlier but ye werena in yer room.”

Caladora shrugged. “Oh, I have been
around.” She bent over Patrick. “Give him to me, Jordi. I havena held him since
yesterday.”

Jordan handed over her son, her
hands free of children for the first time in a week. She almost didn’t know
what to do with herself until Troy cried and she picked him up. At that same moment,
Scott pulled free of Ranulf and the knight went running after the lad. She
smiled, watching the big man trying to corral the little blond-headed tot, trying
not to make him scream.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her
shoulder and she felt a wet, scratchy kiss to her cheek. “Good morn, Jordi,”
her father said.

“Hello, Da,” she answered as her
father took Troy from her arms. Troy loved his grandsire tremendously.

“How was yer visit with yer cousin,
Callie?” Thomas asked as he pretended to bite Troy’s fingers. “Did the twins
keep ye awake?”

Caladora froze, her eyes wide as she
looked between her uncle and Jordan. “Nay, Uncle Thomas,” she said. “They… they
are angels. We all slept through the night just fine.”

She said it rather strained, looking
at Jordan with wide eyes, silently begging her to go along with the story. 
Jordan could see that something was up and she would not give her cousin
away.   Thomas was very protective of unmarried Caladora and kept a sharp eye
on her.  Evidently, the woman had lied to him about where she had been the
night before.

“Callie was very helpful, Da,” she
said, dying to know where her cousin had been although she could guess.  She
took Troy from her father’s arms. “Da, would ye like to take the twins to the
lake? They like to throw rocks in the water.”

Thomas was happy to take the
fidgeting twins on a walkabout. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jordan and
Jemma turned to Caladora.

“Well?” Jordan demanded. “Out with
it. Where were ye last night that ye fibbed to my Da?”

Caladora had expected the
interrogation. Her focus was on Patrick, cradled in her arms. “Where do you
think?”

Jemma crowed. “Ye were with
him
!”
she said. “Did he bed ye, then?”

Caladora flushed. “It wasna like
that,” she insisted weakly. “He was very kind and gentle and….”

“Did he bed ye or not?”

Caladora looked up at Jemma,
frowning.  “You make it sound so… so cheap.”

Jordan and Jemma passed glances. 
Jordan was fighting off a grin. “I am happy for ye, Callie, truly,” she said
somewhat gently. “When William and I first coupled, it was miraculous.  I had
never felt such… such love or passion. Was it like that for ye?”

Caladora looked at the baby again,
her frown turning to a smile. “He is a truly wonderful and giving man,” she
murmured. “I… I love him very much.”

Jordan and Jemma grinned at the
expression on their cousin’s face.  They were both thrilled for her.

“Did he speak of marriage?” Jordan
asked.

Caladora nodded. “He did. He says I
will marry no one but him, when he is damn good and ready.”

Her cousins scowled at that
less-than-romantic remark. “That sounds like him, the arrogant pig,” Jemma said
firmly.

Jordan cocked a knowing eyebrow. “My
husband has certain influences over Paris. I will work on him.”

Caladora shrugged. “‘Tis of no
matter, really. Mayhap I will conceive and he will have to marry me.”

Jemma began to rock Alec as he let
out a little mew. “I am curious, Callie. Ye and Paris have known each other for
months now and this was the first time he bedded ye?”

Caladora thrust up her chin. “Aye,
it is, but it wasn’t for the lack of trying on his part. I simply wasna ready
to give in to him.”

“But ye did,” Jordan said softly,
pushing her cousin’s hair over her shoulder. “I know he cares for ye a great
deal.”

“He loves me,” Caladora insisted. “He
tells me that every day.”

“Well, he better marry ye if he
knows what’s good for him,” Jemma said threateningly, “or he will have to deal
with me.”

Caladora nodded. “He knows that. But
marriage frightens him, even though he has seen it do remarkable things for
William and Kieran,” she sighed patiently. “I will simply have to wait, ‘tis
all.”

As if on cue, four huge destriers
came barreling in through the open gate of Northwood and the women turned,
immediately recognizing the riders.

Jordan’s heart swelled with pride
and love. She had seen him riding hundreds of times, sitting proud and tall in
the saddle, but the sight still brought a giddy feeling to her every time as if
it were the first. No one in the world looked as good as her William in armor.

The horses headed straight for them,
kicking up dirt as they went. People scampered to clear the way as they came to
a halt a several feet away. Jordan smiled, approaching her husband as he
dismounted his dark gray steed.

He pulled off his helmet and gave
her a big kiss. “Hello, love,” he said. “We saw your father and the boys out by
the lake.”

She nodded. “I know. Where have ye
been?”

“At Questing.” He was fussing with
his armor, his saddle, not looking at her. She lifted her eyebrows expectantly.

“And?” she bade him continue.

He looked at her, propping his
helmet on the saddle. Then he smiled. “When can you be ready to leave?”

She smiled gleefully. “Today?”

He shrugged, pleased at her delight.
“Whenever you are ready.”

“Today!” she cried. “Oh, Jemma, did
ye hear? We’re finally going to Questing!”

Her dark-haired cousin was nodding
happily, although the other cousin did not look as pleased. Jordan saw
Caladora’s expression and her heart sank. William sensed the sadness and
hesitation.

“We do not have to leave tonight, or
even tomorrow,” he said, smiling at his wife and at Caladora. “Take your time.
Questing will wait.”

Kieran had dismounted, approaching
his wife. “Give me my son,” he said.

Jemma turned away from him,
protecting Christian. “Not with all of that armor on. Take it off and then ye
can hold him.”

Kieran put his hands on his hips. “Lord,
Jemma, the armor won’t bite him.”

“Daddy won’t bite, either,” Mary
Alys defended Kieran. He smiled down at her and patted her dark head.

But Jemma took a step back, defiance
written all over her face. “Take it off.”

“Kieran, your wife is desperately in
need of discipline,” Paris dismounted his own animal and took off his helmet. “How
you tolerate such bad manners, I will never know.”

Jemma snarled her lip at Paris. “And
why ye haven’t married my cousin yet, I will never know,” she fired back. “This
beautiful woman has dozens of admirers that would marry her tomorrow, but she
waits for ye.”

Jordan rolled her eyes at William,
who was growing amused with Paris’ discomfort. Paris remained in control,
although he would have liked nothing better than to throttle the little Scot.
But she angered him and he could not resist the chance to jab at her, although
it would be risking Kieran’s wrath.

“As I recall, you
had
to get
married,” he said deliberately. “I do not.”

William groaned to himself. As
touchy as Paris was about marriage, he should have known this would have been
his reaction.