The Wolfe (17 page)

“You did not want to come.”

She looked at him. “Would ye?”

“Nay,” he said. “You are brave.”

She sighed heavily. “Nay, I am not.
I am scared all of the time.”

“You have nothing to fear,” he said
sincerely. “We are sworn to protect you.”

A flicker of an ironic smile touched
her lips. “Whether or not ye want to, right?”

“I do not do anything I do not want
to,” he said stubbornly. “Unless William orders it.”

She chuckled at him. “And when he
ordered ye to protect the earl’s betrothed, ye thought he was mad.”

He shook his head. “When I first saw
you, you looked as if you needed protection. So I wanted to protect you.”

Her smile faded, touched at his
gallantry. “Yes, ye were friendly. But not Sir Deinwald. He dinna look happy to
be around me.”

He snorted. “Deinwald’s grandfather
was full Scot. He likes to forget that.”

Her eyes lit with mirth. “I wunna
let him. I shall speak Gaelic to him now every time I see him.”

Kieran laughed. “That will make him
madder than a nest of harassed hornets.”

“Then I shall do it.” she said
decisively.

He continued to chortle. “My lady
has an evil streak.”

“A small one,” she agreed.

“Me, too,” he replied with a twinkle
in his eye. “Teach me some Gaelic insults to speak to Deinwald.”

She decided right then that she
liked Sir Kieran Hage.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

William and Paris entered the tent
fifteen minutes later. Jordan immediately noticed the kicking, fighting child
Paris had hold by the scruff of the collar. She peered closer; there was
something familiar about the voice but it was difficult to tell with all of the
hissing and cursing.

Kieran shot to his feet much faster
than she would believe possible for such a large man. He suspiciously eyed the
waif and William was aware that Kieran had put himself between the intruder and
Jordan.

It went without saying that Kieran was
doing his duty protecting the earl’s bride until William looked at his face;
his expression was battlefield-fierce. He’d never seen Kieran look so…protective
before. Jealousy shot up his spine like a wildfire and startled the hell out of
him.

But he banked it well. He was growing
accustomed to these emotional surges now where Jordan was concerned and it was
becoming easier to gain control of himself. Walking around Kieran, he beckoned
to Jordan.

“My lady,” he said. “We require your
assistance.”

Jordan’s eyes widened. “Me? What can
I do?”

He took her arm and gently led her
over to where Paris stood with the peasant youth. “Tell me if you know
this….person,” he said.

Jordan had to lower her head to get
a look at the face; the child was looking at the floor. But it took her less
than a second to recognize the features and her heart sank.

“Jemma Scott!” she exclaimed,
yanking off the cap her cousin wore. Dark silky hair went cascading to the tiny
waist.

“Aye, ‘tis me!” Jemma crowed. “I
told ye that I would follow ye. Dinna believe me, did ye?”

Jordan went rigid as if Jemma had
just issued her a personal challenge. Her eyes bugged and her fists clenched
and suddenly, without warning, she began beating her cousin with the cap she
held.

“Ye stupid little wench!” Jordan
yelled. “How could ye? How could ye do this?”

William grabbed her by the arms,
pulling her away and fighting off the compulsion to laugh loudly. Paris yanked
her cousin back out of the line of fire.

“Ladies, ladies!” Paris admonished
sternly.

They ignored him, and the others as
well. There was only the two of them and their spitting-mad anger.

“I told ye I would come whether or
not ye took me!” Jemma fought against Paris’ grip.

“And now yer a prisoner, ye idiotic
girl.” Jordan snapped back. “You always were a stubborn, stupid….”

“Aye, and it is yer own fault!” Jemma
screeched.

“My fault?” Jordan was
flabbergasted. “I shall hear none of that. I told ye to stay.”

“And I told ye I was coming!” Jemma
countered.

William let them yell. People often
said things in anger that one would never otherwise get out of them. Wisely, he
stood silent while the two women raged. From what he could gather, this was
either a sister or cousin of Jordan’s. They obviously knew each other well.

“Ha!” Jordan cried. “This is none of
yer affair and ye canna stand to be left out, is all it ‘tis. Ye’re jealous
because I am going to be married.”

“Ha!” Jemma mocked her. “And it ‘tis
an English husband ye’ll be getting. I’d rather marry a pig.”

“’Tis the only mate that would have
ye,” Jordan countered nastily.

Jemma shrieked and fought against
Paris to let her go so she could take a swing at her cousin.

“You will cease!” Paris ordered to
her, to them both.

Jemma twisted on him, her amber eyes
flashing. “Ye dim-witted clod, treating me as if I was an animal!” With that,
she drew back her small foot and kicked Paris as hard as she could square in
the shin. When he flinched and loosened his grip, she plowed both fists into
his abdomen.

Air escaped from Paris’ lungs as she
knocked the wind from him. Stunned, but not senseless, he snatched her arm and
twisted it behind her back before she could attack her again. He could not
believe she had actually assaulted him.

“Why, you little witch! That hurt!”
he said, more outraged than injured.

Jordan, her anger shifting from Jemma
to Paris when she saw how he was manhandling her cousin, jerked free of William’s
grip and dug her sharp nails into Paris’ forearm. They were all surprised to
see docile Jordan turn into a she-cat with her cousin being threatened and
Paris was completely unprepared for the knee to his armorless leg.

“Ouch!” he yelped in surprise.

William was highly amused to watch
Paris on the defensive from two small women. But he took mercy on the man and pulled
Jordan away, pinning her arms to her side. She was hollering in Gaelic and he
decided he’d had quite enough. Shifting her, he managed to keep both of her
arms pinned with one of his own while covering her mouth with her free hand.

“Silence!” he roared. “Both of you.”

He felt Jordan jump, but Jemma
disobeyed him and was still cursing Paris in Gaelic. Paris slapped his hand
over the offending mouth.

With the tent suddenly silent,
William smiled but there was no humor to it. Kieran had to turn his head; he
was close to collapsing with laughter.

“Much better,” he said calmly. “Now,
Lady Jordan, am I to understand that this is a relative of yours?”

Jordan nodded and he removed his
hand from her mouth.

“Aye,” her eyes were splitting
daggers. “She is my cousin, Jemma Scott. She said she was going to follow me,
but I dinna believe her to be serious.”

“Hmm,” William glanced at Jemma. She
was small and darkly pretty, but not nearly the beauty her cousin was. He
looked more sternly at her. “We were attacked today, lass. What do you know of
it?”

Jemma’s face went blank with
surprise. Then she scowled, angry again. “I know nothing.”

William handed off Jordan to Kieran,
his stare sending shivers of fear down Jemma’s spine. She was terrified of this
man, but she tried desperately to maintain her level of fury for all to see.
Now was not the time for cowardice.

William was nearly standing on top
of her, his eyes cold and glittering. “You are a liar.”

“Nay, I am not,” Jemma protested
loudly. “I will tell ye that I did hear the army, but I was trying to stay
close to ye by hugging the trees and hiding in the grass in the fields. I am no
spy.”

“I did not say you were,” his voice
was gritty. “I called you a liar. You called yourself a spy.”

“I am not a spy.” In spite of her
anger, she was close to tears. This man scared the hell out of her and twisted
her words.

Jordan’s heart was in her throat,
terrified that William was going to decapitate her cousin as an enemy.

“Sir knight,” she said in a soft,
controlled voice. “She is telling the truth. Jemma is no spy. She is
disobedient, willful, and stubborn, but she is no spy. I swear to ye on my
mother’s grave.”

He knew that. But, in case Jemma did
know something about the attack on his army today, he wanted to find out and
intimidation could be a wonderful tool. To his surprise, she was holding her
own rather well. Hell, Jordan looked more frightened than she did.

He slowly moved away from Jemma, his
hands on his hips and his head lowered thoughtfully.

“Lady Jemma, what do you have to say
in your defense before I pass judgment?” he asked.

“Pass judgment?” Jordan paled. “What
do ye mean?”

Jemma was in no mood to plead her
case. Now that he believed she was not a spy, she was mad because he had called
her a liar.

“I have nothing to say to ye,” she
snarled. “I came to serve my cousin, not answer to ye.”

Paris fought off a grin. “Ye has a
lot to learn,” he mimicked her burr perfectly.

Kieran could not take it anymore;
the man was long gone into convulsions of laughter. Jemma and Jordan, however,
were outraged and unleashed a barrage of insults at Paris.

“Paris.” William warned him, then
turned back to the women. “Ladies, enough already. God, my head is pounding
from all of this shouting. Everyone…
shut up.”

Paris could see Kieran doubling over
and was nearly lost himself. Jemma and Jordan looked to kill each other as well
as the men, and William tried hard not to look at his knights. He would surely
lose control should giggles overtake him. He continued to fight to maintain his
calm facade.

“Now,” he continued calmly. “Lady Jemma,
if in fact you are not a spy, I see no reason why you should not be allowed to
accompany your cousin. However, I will brook no disobedience from you. You will
take orders and obey them as everyone else and there will be no argument. If I
so much as catch wind that you have raised your voice, I will truss you up like
a goat on a spit and have one of my knights take you back to Langton. Do you
understand me?”

Jemma looked to be properly put in
her place. She wanted to scream that she would never take orders from an
Englishman, but her common sense won out and she wisely kept her mouth shut. If
she wanted to go with Jordan, then she had to tame her tongue. A most difficult
task.

“Aye,” she grumbled. “I understand.”

“Good,” William responded. “Paris,
since you found her, you may see to her safety. Now everybody get out of here
so that Lady Jordan may get some sleep.”

Paris’ mouth went slack. Letting go
of Jemma, he moved to William. “A word, My lord?”

William had not yet agreed when
Paris was all but dragging him over to the far side of the tent.

“You intend to saddle me with
that…that she-devil?” Paris hissed.

“You have your orders.”

Paris’ jaw ticked with angry
disapproval. “Those are not orders, they are a death sentence.”

William straightened. “Paris, I
forbid you to lay a hand on her no matter what she does. Is that clear?”

Paris sneered at him. “I have never
struck a woman and I do not intend to start now, even if she does deserves it,”
he said. “I meant that she will probably kill me the first chance she gets.”

“Then tie her up while you sleep if
you must, I care not,” William said. “I have my hands full with Jordan.”

Paris cocked an ashy-blond brow at him.
“I have a better idea,” he said hopefully. “You take Jemma and I shall take
Jordan. Jemma seems much less hostile toward you.”

There was no way William was going
to let Jordan out of his sight but he would not let on to Paris that it was for
mostly selfish reasons. With a twinkle in his eye, he turned the tables.