The Wolfe (125 page)

They all waited for Jemma to
explode, but much to their collective surprise, Jemma actually smiled.

“That may change,” she said
devilishly.

Caladora flushed bright red at the
divulging of such secret information. Paris, not particularly surprised that
last night had become common knowledge, shrugged and looked his blushing
paramour right in the eye.

“Mayhap,” he said evenly.

William shook his head. “I cannot
believe this conversation.” He went to retrieve his son from his wife’s
mortified cousin. “I am taking Patrick and retreating to my chambers. Jordan?”

“I am coming,” she lifted her
skirts, giving Paris a timid smile before following her husband.

Kieran watched William go. “He gets
to hold his son in full armor,” he pointed, then turned to his wife. “Give him
to me.”

Jemma frowned but complied after a
brief hesitation. Happy, Kieran crooned softly to the infant as Paris
approached Jemma and Caladora. He put his hands on his hips, gazing down at
Caladora and all but ignoring Jemma.

“Did you tell her to say that?” he
demanded softly.

Caladora was horrified. “Nay,” she
replied. “I would never do that.”

Paris glanced reprovingly at Jemma
before turning back to Caladora. “Well, it is of no matter, of course,” he
said. “I will marry you when I am ready to, in spite of your cousin’s opinions.”

Caladora nodded submissively. “I
know that, Paris. I have never said otherwise.”

“Callie, dunna be such a coward,” Jemma
admonished her. “Dunna let him talk to ye like that.”

Paris had had just about enough of
Lady Hage. He pursed his lips threateningly and her husband intervened. “Come
on, sweetheart, leave these two alone,” he cradled his son in one arm and
pulled his wife and daughter along with the other.

Poor Caladora was ready to run for
cover when they were finally alone. She stared, embarrassed and guilty, at the
ground. Paris looked her over, knowing she was slowly dying inside from shame
and it made him smile. He had never met a woman with more humility than she. He
put his finger underneath her chin, raising her eyes to meet his.

“It seems that I am to be branded a
cad if I do not marry you soon,” he said softly.

Caladora’s eyes widened. “I never….”

He put up a hand. “I know you did
not, for you are too much of a lady, unlike some women around here.” His point
was apparent. “I said that we would not marry until I was ready, but I never
said when I would
be
ready.”

Caladora didn’t know what to say. He
stared back into her pale green eyes and took a strand of hair between his fingers.

“I realized last night how much I
love you,” he said quietly. “‘Tis true I have told you that before, but I never
realized how much I meant it. I guess I didn’t want to admit that such a lovely
creature had control over me. I will love you now as well as fifty years from
now and, therefore, there is no longer any reason to wait. I am ready to marry
you now.”

Her eyes bulged. “Now?”

He grinned at her shock and put a
hand over his heart. “If you will indeed have me, sweet. I am an arrogant,
prideful man and I do not expect to change my ways.”

She shook her head, her eyes
welling. “I would not have ye change.”

He took that for a positive response
to his answer and pulled her into his arms.

***

William placed Patrick gently in his
cradle as the wet nurse hovered several feet away. It was overwhelmingly known
how protective the earl was with his sons, and mayhap Patrick all the more
because of the tough time he had had coming into the world. Although Patrick
was a large, healthy boy, William sometimes treated him as if he were suddenly
going to disappear.

“English, leave him to sleep,”
Jordan admonished him softly from the door to the nursery. “He wunna be able to
rest with all of that armor clanging about.”

William kissed his son’s tiny head
once more before reluctantly doing as he was asked. Retreating from the nursery
and back into the antechamber, Jordan helped her husband remove his armor until
he was dressed only in a tunic, linen breeches and boots. Then she threw
herself against him.

“I canna believe we are finally going.”
she exclaimed. “After all this time, ‘tis overwhelming.”

He kissed her before pulling away
from her and stripping off his tunic. “For me, as well,” he agreed. “It has
been a long time in coming.”

Jordan smiled, plopping happily into
the high back chair. “Is our chamber grand?”

He grinned. “As grand as you can
imagine, love. As grand as you deserve.”

She flashed her teeth with happy
excitement, laying crosswise on the chair so that her knees hung over one arm
and her head over the other. “And I want to find a place for a flower garden, English.
My mother had one, once, and I should like to have one. And pets, too, a place
for George and dogs and rabbits.”

He poured himself a cup of wine. “Aye,
there is plenty of room for that,” as he drank, he eyed her supple body as she
draped herself over the chair. Lord, the woman looked as if she had never seen
a day of pregnancy.

He remembered exactly when the last
time occurred that he had made love to her; eight months ago in London and he
was nearly dying with the urge to make love to her again. It had been the
longest eight months of his life, but well worth the sacrifice. They had waited
seven weeks to make love after the twins were born, and it had nearly been that
now, but he would not push her. He didn’t want to seem like he was hounding her.

“Is there a lake, English?” she
asked him, staring dreamily up at the ceiling.

“Aye, there is,” he regarded her. “A
big one. And Michael made a little boat for the boys to ride in.”

She smiled at him. “Did he? How
sweet.” She sighed happily and sat straight once again, looking her husband
over. “Ye look as if ye could use a bath.”

He looked down at his broad,
naked-but-sweaty chest and shrugged. “Mayhap.”

Jordan stood up. “I can smell ye
over here,” she stuck her head into the hallway and called softly to a serving
wench for a bath. Closing the door, she turned back to her husband. “Off with
the clothes, English. And I may burn them.”

He grinned, “They are not that bad.”

She wrinkled her nose and went to
the large wardrobe where she kept their hygiene products. She brought out a liquid
soap made with beer for his hair and a cake of sandalwood-scented soap. Scottish
soap, she proudly proclaimed.

He watched her busy herself for his
bath, his heart warm and full with her. Every day he fell in love with her
anew; when he saw her cooing over the twins, or breastfeeding Patrick, or
laughing with her cousins. He knew now as he had known when he met her, had he
not married Lady Jordan Scott, he would have shriveled up and died. He could
not imagine his life without her, and as much as he loved and worshipped his
children, he loved and worshipped her more. She was his all for living.

The serving girl and several
soldiers brought in a huge copper tub and began filling it with hot water.
William retreated to the bedchamber to remove his clothing as his wife saw to
the filling of his bath and called him when it was ready.

He sank to his chest in the tub and
watched Jordan as she put on an apron and pulled her luxurious hair to the nape
of her neck. She started with his head by pouring a huge pitcher of water over
him and lathering his hair until he thought she was washing all the follicles
from his head. She chattered endlessly as she scrubbed and scraped and rinsed.
She even shaved him, putting a glob of soap on his nose and then laughing
loudly when he grabbed her and kissed her, covering her face with lather as
well.

He was greatly enjoying the feel of
her soft hands on his back, his arms, and his chest. By the time she had him
stand so that she could lather his lower regions, he was almost fully aroused
and she gave him a reproachful glance.

“English,” she shook her head. “Not
now.”

He faced her as she washed his legs,
his large manhood standing straight out and nearly poking her in the eye. He
was smiling, and she was fighting off the giggles as she tried to ignore his
want for her and finish her task. But her restraint was waning, for she wanted
him just as badly and running her hands all over his taut, beautiful body was
making her mad with desire.

“It has been nearly seven weeks,
wife,” he reminded her, breaking his own promise to himself to remain silent.

She stood up and rinsed him until
all of the soap ran free. He got out of the tub and she dried him as he has seen
her dry the twins, vigorously yet tenderly. But she had yet to answer him.

“I know,” she said after a minute.

William watched the top of her head
as she worked. “I would bathe you now.”

She looked up at him. “But I had a
bath only yesterday.”

He reached around and pulled the
ribbon from her hair, running his fingers through it. “I would bathe you now,”
he repeated huskily.

Jordan closed her eyes at his touch,
the touch she had craved for months and months. She suddenly decided she wanted
him now and to hell with the bath; that would only delay her exquisite
pleasure. True, he would be running his hands all over her eager body, but she
wanted him in her much sooner than a bath would allow.

She pressed herself against him,
pulling his head down to her mouth and kissing him as passionately as she could
ever remember. Months and months of waiting were revealed in the kiss and her
hands entwined themselves in his thick damp hair, keeping him bent to her. His
lips were so warm and soft that she was licking him and whimpering his name in
no time.

William was consumed with desire,
love, and passion, everything as he picked up his wife and carried her into
their bedchamber. She was hanging onto his neck, kissing him feverishly as his
hands rid her of her clothing. Quickly, they were both nude and William
suddenly stopped kissing her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked
breathlessly.

He was looking at her body where she
stood on the bed, his hands reverently exploring her.

“Nothing,” he whispered, dragging
his hand down her torso.

“God, Jordan, you look better now
that you ever have, even before you had children. You are so beautiful.”

She watched his soft expression as
he got reacquainted with her body. “Do ye think so? I think I have gone to fat,
especially here on my stomach.”

He ran a hand over her slightly
rounded, but very desirable belly. “No, love. Before you had the boys, you had
the body of a nubile young girl. Now you have the body of a ripe, luscious
woman and you drive me mad with desire such as I have never known.”

She smiled, feeling deeply
complemented by his words. “Thank ye, English.”

With a groan he pulled her belly to
his mouth and licked and sucked at her until she was crying softly with her
need. His hands were kneading her buttocks as his mouth moved over her torso.
Not taking his mouth from her, he lay her down on the bed and half covered her
with his huge form while his hands roamed freely.

He pushed himself up to her breasts,
remember how he had enjoyed their lovemaking when she had been breastfeeding
the twins. His mouth latched onto an ultra-sensitive nipple and he suckled her
hungrily, listening to her sighs of pleasure.

“Oh, English,” she gasped,
electrified. “I had nearly forgotten the feel of ye. It has been too long.”

“Too long,” he brought himself up
and descended on her mouth and she tasted her milk on his tongue. It was enough
to drive her insane.

His hands were everywhere, touching
and probing and she parted her thighs to encourage him. As much as she relished
his touch, she wanted him in her and moving. It had been too, too long.

He slipped between her legs, his
mouth immediately closing in on her woman’s center. She stiffened and bucked
beneath him, silently encouraging him onward as her fingers entwined in his hair
and refused to let go. When he did finally raise himself up, he made sure to
look her in the eye before entering her. As long as they had both waited, he wanted
to see her face when he filled her.

Jordan gazed back into the
hazel-gold depths of his right eye, feeling his organ pressing against her most
intimate place. He would press a little and then release, over and over, gaining
headway little by little until Jordan was ready to scream with frustration.

“English. Dunna tease me.” she
begged breathlessly.

“But you are so tight, love,” he
told her. “I do not want to hurt you.”

She grasped his defined buttocks and
wrapped her legs around his thighs. “Hurt me.”

She thrust her pelvis forward,
driving him deep inside her. William groaned, assisting her by tightening his
buttocks and plunging forward as far as he could possibly go. She was so
incredibly tight that he knew he must be hurting her, yet she didn’t utter a
sound other than those of ecstasy.