The Wolfe (16 page)

Sweet Jesu’.
Jordan thought,
closing her eyes and submerging herself up to her neck in the warm water. What
have I done to myself?
What a fool I am.

She dressed herself slowly, her mind
a bog of swirling emotions. She sat in front of the brazier in a heavy linen
shift and matching robe, so huge it was like wearing a coverlet, and ran a
brush through her hair over and over as it dried. Her thoughts were a million
miles away.

William chose that moment to enter
the tent. One look at angelic Jordan sitting by the brazier was enough to make
him want to turn and run like hell simply to protect himself. But he could not,
even if he were able; she looked so beautiful that he could not take his eyes
from her.

“You are finished?” he asked,
clearing his throat.

“Aye,” she did not look at him. “I
am. Please take the water away.”

Three soldiers rushed in at
William’s signal and hauled the pot away. When they had gone, he walked across
the tent to where she was sitting and paused a few feet away, opening a
collapsible chair. She wondered what he was doing and when she did force
herself to look at him, she saw he had set a large white bundle on his lap.

“You have not eaten,” he said. “I
had Luke pack you some food.”

She didn’t say anything, watching as
he unwrapped the bundle and exposed the contents of cheese, apples, a hunk of
cold meat, and a half loaf of brown bread. She hadn’t realized how hungry she
had been until she saw the food.

William watched her eat. She didn’t
look at him once, nor did she speak a word. He was curious to know why she was so
quiet, but imagined that it had something to do with the earlier fight. Maybe
she was mad at him.

“Was your bath satisfactory?” he
asked.

She nodded, tearing off a piece of
bread and putting it in her mouth.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, feeling
the least bit uncomfortable. If, in fact, she were angry, should he apologize?
But why in hell should he? After all, she was the one who had thrown wine on
him.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked
before he could stop himself, immediately sorry as soon as the words came
spilling out of his mouth. Men didn’t ask those questions.

Jordan looked up at him for the
first time, her mouth frozen in mid-chew. She looked as if she wanted to say
something, but quickly shook her head and lowered her gaze.

Now he was piqued. “Then why haven’t
you spoken to me?”

She shrugged, breaking off a small
piece of cheese. “I have nothing to say, sir knight.”

“To me or just in general?” he
asked.

She put the cheese in her mouth, but
her movements had slowed considerably. “In general,” she said softly.

He watched her move like an old
woman, slowly, lethargically. All of the fire from not an hour before was gone.
He wanted very much to know what was upsetting her.

“Enough, Jordan,” he finally said,
quietly but firmly. “What is bothering you?”

Abruptly, she set the food down and
stood up. “I am tired. I wish to sleep now.”

He watched her from his seat on the
floor. “Not until you tell me what the matter is. We will stay up all night if
we have to.”

She whirled around to him. “Are ye
deaf? I said nothing. Can I go to sleep now?”

He scratched his head and stood up. “Are
you angry because Paris and I were fighting? I could see that we had frightened
you, but….”

“William,” she interrupted him in a
low voice.

She had never called him by his
Christian name. The way she said it was like a caress, so soft and soothing and
disarming. Hell, he didn’t even know up until this point if she even remembered
his name; she always called him ‘English’. He wanted to hear her call him by
his given name again. Always.

Jordan was looking at him with those
mesmerizing green eyes and he felt as if he was being swallowed whole. She took
a few hesitant steps toward him, putting her hand up. He stood stock-still,
wondering what she was going to do with that raised hand, when it came to rest
gently on his chest.

“Dunna ask me anymore,” she
murmured. “Please?”

His brows drew together. “But if I
have….”

She shook her head and put the hand
that was on his chest to his mouth. “Dunna ask me what is wrong. Ever. I beg
ye.”

He could smell the lavender on her
fingers. Instinctively, he reached up to grasp her hand. Her palms were
sweating.

“Then answer me and I will not ask
again.”

Honestly, she could not think of one
rational thing to tell him. There were too many worries fluttering about in her
mind. The more he asked her, the more likely she might be to spill everything
out. But she could see he was going to demand an answer until she gave him one.

She lowered her head. “I am tired,
that’s the truth, she said. “And I am….scared.”

He frowned, “What of?”

He still held her hand and it was
distracting her. “Of everything, English, of my life to be. I dunna know what
it will be like at Northwood and I am worried.”

“You worry too much,” he said. “I
already told you that de Longley is a decent man. You need not fear him.”

“I dunna fear him,” she insisted. “I…just
fear my future. Isna that natural?”

“Yes, providing you have a basis for
that fear. But you do not.”

“How do ye know?” she scowled. “Ye
are the captain of the troops. I am an enemy Scot. I do not belong. I will
always be an outsider, even in my own home. I will have no friends, just my
maids. I will be alone for the rest of my life.”

“I am your friend,” he said softly.

She looked up at him and her stomach
fluttered wildly. His eyes were so kind and sincere she knew he was telling her
the truth and she found her heart rejoicing at his simple statement.

“Are ye? Truly?” she asked, slightly
breathless.

He nodded. “Unless you do not want
me.”

“I want ye, English.”
Sweet Jesu’
,
did that come out wrong. She blushed to the roots of her hair and dropped her
gaze. She heard him chuckle softly.

“Fear not, my lady. I know what you
mean,” he said. “‘Twould be most unknightly of me to assume otherwise.”

She grinned in spite of herself. “I
spoke before I thought again.”

He sobered. “I hope not.”

She snapped her eyes up to him and
she  tore her hand away.
No. No. No.
She could not think these thoughts,
these daft emotional thoughts. Sweet Jesu’, she could not be strong if he wore
to encourage her in any way. He didn’t even realize her internal struggle, yet
he was making it most difficult when he said or did things that broke down her
resistance.

She spun away from him. “Dunna do
this to me, English.” she whispered before she could stop herself.

William went rigid. Good God, why
did she say that? And the
way
she said it. All of his control flew out
of the window; he had to know why she said that. He was advancing on her when
Paris suddenly appeared in the tent flap.

“My lord,” he said gravely. “You are
needed.”

William moved to Paris, trying to
regain control of his soaring emotions. He was at once glad for the diversion,
but also angry Paris had entered before he’d had a chance to pursue her
comments. Damnation, he was going mad.

“What is it?” he demanded harshly.

Paris was indeed serious; he didn’t
so much as cock an eyebrow at William’s tone. “Outside, My lord,” he
instructed.

William followed him. Jordan sank
wearily onto the collapsible chair just as Sir Kieran entered the tent, smiling
pleasantly at her. He took position by the tent flap, his gigantic arms folded
across an equally gigantic chest.

Jordan sighed sadly. She should not
have said such things to William; she could see how angry he had become. Thank
God Paris had saved her from sure scolding. She hoped he would be calm by the
time he came back. At least calm enough not to strike her.

Jordan glanced over at Kieran. “Are
ye to be my watchdog tonight?” she smiled. He really was devilishly handsome, with
his flashing brown eyes and light brown hair. Not as strikingly gorgeous as
William nor as sensual as Paris, but handsome in a very manly sort of way.

“Just until William returns, my lady,”
he replied.

She continued to stare up at him a
moment. “Do ye want to kill me?”

He was completely stumped. The smile
vanished. “Do I
what?
”

She turned away, staring at the
brazier. “Nothing.”

She heard his timid footsteps come
up behind her and stop. She almost wished he’d strike her down and end her torment.
She’d not only embarrassed herself, but she probably lost her only English friend.
Why did she speak before thinking? One of her many, many flaws, she thought grimly.
And now, she had spoken completely out of turn with Kieran. She did not even
know why she had asked him that. Her mind was not working properly.

“My lady, why would you think that I
would want to kill you?” he asked sincerely. He had a deep, gentle voice.

She shook her head and let out a
sigh of exasperation. “Forget I asked ye, please. I shouldna have.”

He didn’t move or speak. After
several moments, she turned around to look at him.

“Sit down, man,” she commanded
softly. “Dunna stand there staring at me.”

He raised his brows before moving into
a crouched position several feet away. William was massive, but Kieran was
unbelievable. And it was all muscle, too; she could see his bare forearms and
they were like roped steel.

Jordan could see that he was still
very puzzled but was politely obeying her request not to ask again. She stared
back into the brazier.

“Because I am Scot,” she explained
quietly. “After the battle today, I assume everyone wants to kill me because I
am Scot.”

She heard him sigh. “I see,” he
said. “Nay, my lady, I do not want to kill you. You have done nothing.”

She turned slowly to him, looking at
his strong profile.

“Thank ye,” she said. “Yer a kind
man. For an Englishman.”

He laughed. “Thank you, my lady,” he
replied. “And may I say that you are a beautiful lady. For a Scot.”

She looked sharply at him to see if
he was teasing her, but he could see no malice in his smile. She was suddenly
embarrassed at his compliment. First William, now Kieran. She was going to
become swell-headed if this kept on. But, God’s truth, she was beginning to
enjoy the attention.

She smiled back. “Most Scot women
are beautiful,” she replied.

He drew his brows together. “What
about your maids? Surely you cannot mean them.”

“Every woman is beautiful in her own
way,” she insisted.

“As you say,” he replied dubiously. “They
look more like men than some men I have known. No offense.” he added quickly.

She giggled. “Be that as it may,
they are loyal servants and their hearts are indeed beautiful,” she said.

He nodded sheepishly, hoping he had
not offended the earl’s new bride.

She studied him more closely. “Tell
me, sir knight, how long have ye served under Sir William?”

“We have known each other since we
were squires,” he said. “I have served under him for six years.”

“Then ye have known him a long time,”
she said.

“Aye, my lady,” he replied. “We have
been through much together.”

He meant battles. With Scots. She
dropped her gaze and fell silent. Kieran saw her downcast expression and was
again fearful that he had again said something to offend her.

“Sir William is a good man,” he
said, hoping she would forget about whatever he had said. “He is the very heart
of this army. All of us would die for him.”

Her head came up. What had William
told her? That he would die for her? Strangely, she felt special, as if she
were included in this brotherhood in some way.

“‘Tis a well-trained army,” she
replied. “How many soldiers are there?”

“Five hundred.”

Her eyes widened. “Five hundred. But
I thought….”

He smiled, following her thoughts. “This
is a light brigade, my lady,” he told her. “We left four hundred men back at
Northwood. Hell, I didn’t think we’d even need this many men, but William insisted.”

“Why? Because he thought he would
have to burn Langton down to get me?” she asked, half serious, half in jest.

But Kieran took her seriously. “Mayhap.
Once the treaty was agreed upon, you became Lord de Longley’s property. Mayhap
William was afraid you would change your mind.”

She shook her head, “I dinna have
any choice one way or the other.”

He knew that. She was so young and
vulnerable and lovely that he would have burned Langton down himself just to
get a word from her. It was too bad she was being used as a pawn in a much
larger game.