The Wolfe (37 page)

The group moved on. They passed the
blacksmith and the carpenter. Deinwald himself gave her the tour of the
blacksmith’s shack, his arrogant manner causing the stocky blacksmith to shake
his head in irritation. The more Deinwald talked, the more the man would shoot
him sardonic glances. Deinwald glanced over his shoulder at him once or twice
in response to Jemma’s giggles, eventually realizing what went on. As they left
the shed, Deinwald retaliated by pinching the great draft horse the man was
shoeing in the arse and the horse nearly bolted through the wall.

Jordan was making a deliberate point
of stopping and speaking to the workers, commenting on their labor and asking
thoughtful, keen questions. It wasn’t long before they responded to her openly,
as if she did not speak with a thick burr. There were a few that were less friendly
than others, but no one was openly hostile and that relieved her greatly. She
realized that it was because her escorts were silently threatening each and
every one of them behind her back, but she didn’t care. As long as it gave her
a chance to talk to them, she figured she could do the rest on her own.

She wanted them to see the woman,
not hate the Scot. Even if she knew nothing about their trade, she was intent
on learning. She was bent on making acquaintance with these people, to let them
see their future countess and to allow them to see she that she was not their
enemy.

They wound their way around to the
rear of the fortress where the kitchens were. Children dashed about, chasing
each other and playing games Jordan smiled. She liked children and she hoped
they would give her a chance to be their friend, too.

A group of small ones passed too
close to Deinwald and he barked angrily at them. They scattered like rabbits,
save one little girl who fell down in her panic. She sat on the ground whimpering
as she nursed a scraped knee, her big blue eyes filled with tears as she looked
up at Deinwald. Jordan rushed to her, dropping to her knees beside the little
girl.

“There, there, lass,” she said
soothingly. “Let me see it.”

Sniffling, the little girl let her
see the scrape and Jordan smiled reassuringly. “Is that all?” She drew out her
handkerchief and brushed away the dirt and dabbed at the little bit of blood
there was. “All better. See?”

The girl looked at the small wound,
letting Jordan’s gentle touch ease the sting. Once, she stole a glance at the
beautiful lady, thinking that her dress was prettier than an angel’s and she
smelled good, too. She felt special that the lady was paying attention to her.
She wasn’t quite so scared of the knights with the lady protecting her. When
Jordan smiled at her, she returned it.

“What’s yer name?” Jordan smoothed
away a stray lock of dark hair.

“Mary Alys,” the little girl replied
with a heavy lisp.

“How old are ye, Mary Alys?” she
asked.

“I shall be five years next week,”
the girl replied. “How old are you?”

Jordan smiled broadly. “I am twenty
years. Old, is it not?”

The little girl shrugged and they
both giggled. Then Jordan rose and pulled the child to her feet, brushing off
her simple and rather dirty dress.

“Here, Mary Alys, take this,” she
pushed her silk handkerchief into the small hand. “I might not see ye on yer birthday
and I want to make sure ye have a gift.”

Mary Alys looked astonished at the
beautiful cloth. “For
me
?” she gasped.

“Aye,” Jordan said. “Take good care
of it, lass.”

Mary Alys’ smile was as bright as
the sun. “Oh, thank you, lady, thank you!”

They were all smiling when Mary Alys
bound off, including Deinwald. Jordan turned around, her smile vanishing when
her eyes fell on him.

“Yer a nasty brute, Deinwald
Ellsrod,” she scolded.

He hid his smile and tried to
pretend indifference to her statement. “If it pleases my lady.”

“It doesna,” she snipped. “Get out
of my way.”

Turning her nose up at him, she
showed him her back and marched away. The other knights, and Jemma, smiled
broadly and followed.

Somewhere between the buttery and
the smokehouse they picked up Corin, Lewis and Jason. I looked like a line of
trees following the two young women, certainly an unnecessarily large escort.
Had Jordan stopped to think about it, only William, Paris, Ranulf and Marc were
missing. But she was paying more attention to the newness that was Northwood.

They stopped at the coldhouse and
the old woman there offered them all wedges of ‘green cheese;’ soft cheese with
herbs and bits of onion mixed in. Only Jordan and Jemma took delight in the treat.
The knights stood silently behind them, content to watch the two beautiful women
happily stuff then mouths. It had been a long time since any of them had seen
beauty this fair and they meant to enjoy it.

Jordan had no idea how long William
had been standing behind them. When she caught sight of him, her expression
must have given away her surprise because the knights and soldiers looking at
her swung around with incredible speed. They knew before they even turned
around who was there and what trouble they were in for.

William’s expression was unreadable.
He stood with his legs braced apart, arms crossed over his chest casually. He
eyed each and every man deliberately. Jordan almost smiled and asked him to join
them, but she realized that William was angry. His body or his face did not
give him away, but she knew just the same.

“I was wondering where all of my knights
had gone,” he said mildly.

Jordan could feel the tension in the
air. The stiff bodies in front of her told her that indeed they were in a hell
of predicament, although she wondered exactly why. They hadn’t been doing
anything but escorting the ladies on their walk. Then, of course, all of the
possible reasons for his anger flooded into her mind; the men were neglecting
their duties in order to follow she and Jemma about like guard dogs. She knew
that whatever punishment they received, it was her fault.

She handed Jemma her cheese and
pushed her way to the front of the group, right in front of William. It almost
looked as if she were going to try and bodily protect them from William’s
wrath.

“‘Tis my fault, sire,” she said
earnestly. “I insisted on going for a walk and out of the kindness of their
hearts, they accompanied me.”

He looked at her and she was nearly
physically impacted by what she saw in the dark angry eyes.

“This is no casual stroll, my lady,
it is a herd of sheep,” he said evenly. “If you were, mayhap, being attacked by
thirty Scots the odds would be even, but that is an unlikely event in the bailey
of Northwood.”

He might as well as slapped her in
the face. She stung with his comment and her initial reaction was to back away,
but she did not. She felt responsible for the actions of the knights and she
would not back down in their defense.

“That would be an unlikely event in
any case, considering the cost of peace,” she shot back quietly. “These men
meant no harm, sire, and yer assessment that nine men could fend off thirty Scots
is both arrogant and untrue. I do not appreciate having my kinsmen so blatantly
insulted.”

She caught a flash of softening in
his eyes followed by a larger flash of anger. This William before her, the hard
and cold commander, was not the William that had made such sweet love to her
last night. This was the William she feared and on occasion, despised.

“I was not attempting to insult
anyone, simply stating a fact,” he said.

She inhaled deeply and stiffened.
Several vicious retorts sprang to her mind, but she could not force one of them
from her lips. She was deeply hurt by his remarks. Why did he have to be so
bloody complex? What had started out as a plea for the knights had now turned
into a personal battle between the two of them.

“I willna forgive ye for that,” she
whispered, turning her back on him. “ Come, Jemma.”

“Hold, madam.” It was not a request
but a direct order.

‘Twas not the wisest move to keep
walking, but she did. She was angry and upset, and her whole day was ruined.

“One more step and I will truss you
up until I have finished dealing with my men,” he said in a low voice.

She almost kept going. But, in a
flash of sanity, she realized that he would do exactly that and she did not
want to be embarrassed any more than necessary. For that reason, she stopped,
with Jemma beside her, and turned to face him angrily.

He knew she had stopped but didn’t
look at her. Instead, he was focused on his men.

“Deinwald, since you seemed so
well-versed with the blacksmith’s trade, you may assist the man this afternoon
when he shoes all of the destriers.” Deinwald didn’t even flinch and William
continued. “Michael, I am sure Hilda here could use your help transporting
goods from the coldhouse for the next week. And Corin and Lewis must be very
good at milking cows since you were both so familiar with the buttery.” He
clasped his hands behind his back. “Adam and Jason, I believe the stablemaster could
use your help for the rest of the week, which leaves me with Kieran. You are
already charged with Lady Jemma and doing a fine job. In fact, I believe you
could handle the household servants with as great an efficiency. Considering
Lady Analiese has her hands full planning an engagement party and a wedding, I
believe I have just granted you the title of interim chatelaine.”

They were cut to the bone, insulted,
degraded, stripped of their knightly dignity. Jordan was sick for them, but
strangely saw none of their humiliation in their faces. They looked at William
as if he were talking about the weather. They dispersed themselves without
being dismissed. Kieran brushed by the ladies long enough to reach out and pull
Jemma along with him.

William watched them until they had
all disappeared from his view. Then, he went to Jordan.

“Walk with me,” he said.

“Nay,” she returned coldly.

He looked long at her. “I am growing
weary of hearing that word come from your lips.”

She continued to glare at him, his
insulting words rolling back and forth in her mind. She was so mad she was
afraid to say anything more to him.

“I dunna wish to walk anymore,” she
explained with embittered control. “I would return to my rooms.”

He continued to gaze impassively at
her. “I will gladly return you after you accompany me.”

He was fueling her anger. “I have no
wish to accompany a man who openly insults my heritage and then refuses to
apologize.”

She heard him sigh sharply. “Jordan,
do not fight with me. Just do as I ask. Walk with me.”

She considered balking once again,
but relented reluctantly and together they walked across the compound, through
the inner gates and into the outer bailey.

He led her outside the great wall of
Northwood, across the drawbridge that lay over the stinking moat. She tried not
to look at the sludge when they passed over for fear she would see something
that would cause her to lose her recently-eaten cheese. She briefly wondered if
he was taking her far away so he could yell his head off and no one would hear
him.

He took her elbow and led her
through a bank of trees and across a small field to a lovely little lake. The
smell of wildflowers were thick in the warm air and she could feel sweat beading
on her back from the humidity.

He let go of her and walked to the
edge of the lake, taking in the scenery. He was trying to think of a way to
delicately phrase the news he bore, but had come to the unalterable conclusion
that there was no easy way. She was already riled, which didn’t make matters
easier on him.

“There is no simple way to put this,
Jordan, so I must tell you bluntly,” he said finally. “I have just come from a
meeting with the earl, the viscount, and Analiese. They have decided that
Northwood would be better off without Jemma within its walls.”

Jordan’s anger fled, the void filled
by complete horror. Her face went white. “What are ye saying, English? They
mean to kill her?”

He turned to her. “Nay,” he assured
her. “They simply mean to send her back to Langton. ‘Twas a compromise of the earl’s
choosing; Analiese still wanted her flogged but relented under the condition
that Jemma be sent back to Scotland.”

Jordan was overwhelmed. “How can
that bitch still be concerned over the events of last night?” she demanded. “She
started it, all of it, yet Jemma is being punished? ‘Tis not fair.”

“Jemma is not the earl’s daughter,”
he replied quietly.

Jordan’s face was a mask of
disbelief and anguish. She simply stared at him as if she could not believe
what she was hearing.

He gazed back at him, compassion
filling his eyes. “I am sorry, love. I really am. I tried to defend her.”

“Then there is nothing I can do?”
she begged quietly. “Nothing I can say that would change his mind?”

William shook his head. “Nay,” he
replied. “He is set. She leaves on the morrow.”