The Wolfe (128 page)

He had a decision to make.

It wasn’t a difficult one. This was
not his war, and Thomas was the only one who could accept or refuse the
apology. The damage had been done to him, not to William. He wondered vaguely
if the apology was refused if they would not find themselves in the middle of
another battle.

“Very well,” William said after a
moment. “Have the clan chiefs assemble and I shall go get Thomas.”

Paris nodded with a smile and sent
Ranulf off.

William turned tail and roared into
the outer bailey. Thomas, Matthew, Cord and Ian were up on the wall and he
motioned them down. As he waited for them to descend the stairs, his gaze
habitually roved the walls making sure his men were properly positioned when
his sight suddenly came to rest on a very familiar, very blond female head on
the inner wall. More irritated than angry, he reined his horse over near the
wall.

“Jordan?” he yelled in exasperation.

Her beautiful face gazed timidly
down at him. “Hello, English.” she greeted innocently.

He rolled his eye with resignation.
He should have expected her not to stay put with so many tartans approaching
and was not surprised to see Jemma looking down at him, as well.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Looking at the Scots,” she said
obviously. “What are ye doing? What’s going on?”

William thought a moment. If there
was any apologizing to be done, his wife would receive one, too. For everything
that had been said about her and done to her, for all of the hatred the clans
bore her simply because she had done what was asked of her. By damn, if they
wanted to apologize, let them apologize to her, too.

He flicked his finger to one of the
men next to the gate. “Open the gate,” he ordered, then looked back up at his
wife. “Come down here. Jemma, you too.”

Their heads disappeared and they
came running through the gate about the same time Thomas and the others reached
him. Six pairs of curious Scot eyes looked up at him expectantly.

“In all my years of a fighting man,
I have never heard of this,” William said with a shake of his head. “That army
out there is comprised of several clans that showed up at Northwood yesterday
looking for you, Thomas.”

Thomas was not surprised but his
stomach took a dive. “To kill me, I am sure.”

William shook his head hard. “Nay, My
lord, not to kill you. To apologize.”

Thomas glanced at his kin in shock. “Apologize?”

“Aye,” William answered. “Would you
and your kin ride out with me?”

Someone went to retrieve mounts for
the Scotts as Jordan came off the wall and approached her husband. She had
heard most of what he had said.

“English, what do ye mean?” she was
afraid for her father. “Surely they are lying and just want to get at him.”

“Nay, love, Paris seems to think
they are sincere,” he said. “But, to be sure, he brought along Northwood’s army
as support for our own in case the Scots entertain the thought of changing
their minds. We would outnumber them two to one.”

Jordan sighed reluctantly, glancing
around him to look out at the distant troops. William held down his hand.

“Come with me,” he said.

She looked up in surprise. “Where?”

He jerked his head in the direction
of the army. “Out there. If there are any apologies to be made this day, then
you will hear them. You as much as your father deserve them.”

She’d never really thought about
that. After all, she had suffered little compared to the rest of her family.

“Are ye sure?” she asked hesitantly.

He smiled in answer and she
immediately placed her hand in his and mounted in front of him easily. She was
quite used to it by now.

***

Her family mounted, with Jemma
riding behind her father, they rode from the bailey at an easy canter. As they
crossed the field and approached the group of knights, they noticed several
other men wearing plaid had joined the group. Jordan stiffened as she
recognized the Elliott, McCutcheon, McKenna and Barr chiefs. William felt her
go rigid and squeezed her waist reassuringly.

They came to a halt behind the line
of English knights. Thomas was the last man to ride up, and he eyed the clan
chiefs for a long, long time before slowly dismounting. All eyes were upon him
as he approached his one-time allies.

Oliver Barr was standing slightly
ahead of the others, his burly face expressionless. He met Thomas’ gaze
unwaveringly as the man approached and it was difficult to describe the
emotions that were prevalent in the air. There was tension, yes, but not of a
truly bad sort.

Jordan sat in front of her husband,
here pale green eyes huge as she watched her father’s proud back.

Thomas and Oliver faced off against
each other, each man trying to read into the other’s soul. They had known each
other since they had been bairns and for their alliance to have come to this
point was a truly sad event.

Finally, Oliver cleared his throat. “We
are glad we have finally found ye, Thomas. We had heard ye went to live wi’ the
English.”

Thomas’ eyes were hard. “Ye gave me
no choice, man, when ye burned my keep.”

Oliver looked uncomfortable and
started to fidget. “That is why we have come, Thomas,” he said, glancing over
his shoulder at his fellow chiefs for support. “What I mean to say is that we
regret everything that has happened. I know it is too little, too late, but I
wanted ye to go to yer grave knowing that we are sorry for what we did. We were
foolish, and we are sorry.”

Thomas cocked a salt-and-pepper
brow. “So that’s it?” he said with growing anger. “Ye burn a man’s keep to the
ground and kill his kin, and ye think saying yer sorry will somehow right things?”

Oliver shook his head. “Nay, we
dunna mean that.” he insisted. “We just… oh, bloody hell. Thomas, we wanted to
tell ye we were stupid fools to listen to McKenna and to tell ye that we’ll rebuild
yer keep and anything else ye want done to show ye that we truly are sorry.”

“Can ye replace Anne and Lilith, and
Donald and Benjamin and Nathaniel?” Thomas shot back. “Sorry or not, rebuilding
my keep willna bring my kin back. The reasons matter not why ye did it, because
the fact remains that ye did. Dunna look to me to ease yer guilty conscience,
Oliver. Only God can forgive ye that.”

Oliver looked truly hurt. He knew
Thomas was right, but his guilt had so consumed him that he had to come,
anyway. They all did.

“Yer right, of course, ” he replied
softly. “I dinna expect yer forgiveness, but we’re willing just the same to try
and make it up to ye.”

Thomas’ face was red and he turned
away, walking aimlessly back toward his horse. Jordan, her eyes full of unshed
tears, watched her father a moment before sliding off the destrier and
approaching Oliver.

Oliver looked down at her, noticing
how truly beautiful she had become over the past two years.

“Greetings to ye, Jordan,” he said
softly, shamefully.

Jordan nodded faintly, staring back
at him. “Are ye truly sorry for what ye have done, Laird Barr?”

Oliver looked miserable. “Aye,
lassie, we are or we wouldna have come. ‘Tis a humbling thing to admit yer own
mistakes, but we are just the same. We realize how wrong we were to listen to Dunbar’s
plans of gold and glory.” He looked her over. “And he told us ye were the
biggest traitor of all because ye married an English earl. We knew ye that ye
weren’t, but we believed him anyway. We’re sorry to ye, too, lass.”

Jordan was taken aback by the
confession and the apology. She knew the human character and she could see from
Oliver’s open stance that he was sincere. She glanced over her shoulder at her
father, her husband.

“Give my da time. ‘Twill take a
great deal of time to heal him,” she said softly. “As for marrying the earl, I
dinna do it.” She pointed up to proud, strong William. “I married The Wolf.”

Oliver’s eyes widened as he looked
up at the earl. “Ye married The Wolf? The border Wolf?” he repeated. “Is that
who he is?”

“Dinna they tell ye that at
Northwood?” Jordan asked.

Oliver shook his head. “Nay, lass,
they dinna,” he was quite awed. “They simply told us they knew where Thomas had
gone and nothing more. Lord, lassie, ye married The Wolf?”

Suddenly, Jemma was beside Jordan,
glaring up at Oliver. “And I married his captain,” she said menacingly. “I
ought to kill ye right here and now for what ye did to my mother, but in the
name of peace I wunna. What in the world makes ye think an apology will help us
now? Why dinna ye come months ago?”

“Because…because there was not one
man among us who wanted to admit his mistake,” Oliver said. “Dunna vex me now,
lass. ‘Twas hard enough to get the courage to come here. But know how sorry I
am about yer mother, Lilith. Truly, lass.”

Jemma was breathing hard, gearing up
for another nasty retort when tears suddenly spilled down her cheeks and she
turned away from him, sobbing. Kieran bailed from his destrier and went to his
wife, enveloping her in his huge form. Oliver’s eyes widened at the sight of
the truly massive man.

Jordan watched her cousin
sympathetically a moment before turning back to Oliver. “And Caladora married
Northwood’s captain, in case ye dinna know that,” she said softly. “Ye see,
Oliver, we’re all married to English. And our children are of a new generation
that ties our countries together, linking them. I pray my sons grow up to love
Scots as well as English and that they never know what it is to hate another
man simply because he is different. Yer hatred and yer greed blinded ye, and ye
destroyed my father’s fortress because he formed an alliance with the enemy. Ye
realized too late that the real enemy was from within.”

Oliver listened to her, agreeing with
every word. The others heard her, English and Scot, and William had never been
more proud of his wife.

“I love the English I live with and
the English we are allied with, Laird Barr,” Jordan said after a moment. “I
used to love the Scott allies, too, but ye have all but destroyed that tie.
‘Twill take a long time to regain it.”

“I hope someday ye can find it in
yer heart to forgive us,” Oliver said huskily. “We did so wrong ye.”

She lifted her eyebrows and nodded
faintly in agreement. “Aye, ye did.” She glanced behind him. “I notice ye carry
some of my father’s men.”

He nodded. “A little over one
hundred.”

She gazed at her father again. “Ye
will send the men back to Langton to begin rebuilding,” she told him. “My da
will join them later.”

Oliver cleared his throat again,
looking once more to Thomas’ turned back and over to Jemma where she stood
clutching her husband. His damn stupidity had done this.

“Aye, lassie, I shall return them,”
he said. “And I shall build up the first stone myself. Mayhap…mayhap actions
will speak louder than words.”

Jordan watched him go, followed by
the other chiefs. They mounted their horses and began shouting orders to the
multitude of tartan-clad men as the Scots began to split from the English
troops. They all watched in silence, emotions swirling between them like devil
winds, touching all. It was difficult to know how to react.

Jordan was suddenly aware of William
beside her, watching the army march away in complete silence. Above them the
sky was bright summer blue, and the field grass licked at her bare legs. Birds
chirped around them and Jordan was suddenly filled with a sense of hope. Hope
for the future, her children’s future.

“That was quite a speech,” William
said after a moment.

She shrugged, turning to look at her
father. “’Twas no speech, but the truth,” she said. “English, I think I shall
walk back to Questing with my da if that is all right.”

He nodded, removing his helmet and
kissing her forehead. “Quite all right, love. I shall meet you back there.”

He moved away from her and she
turned to watch him, so regal and strong. Her Wolf. Her life that had come full
circle.

Everything they had dreamed of and
hoped for had come to past and she loved him more than life itself.

“English,” she called out softly.

He turned to look at her, grasping
his destrier’ s reins.

“What is it, love?”

Love.
He had always called
her love. She smiled at him, a beautiful radiant smile that lit up her entire
face. The smile that always made him go weak in the knees.

“See ye at home,” she said. Blowing
him a kiss, she moved to her father and took his arm, walking leisurely with
him across the sweet English grass toward the distant fortress of Questing.

Home.

EPILOGUE

San Diego, California

San Diego Naval Base