The Wolfe (62 page)

The knights returned her smile,
relieved she was regaining her composure. Jemma thrust herself forward,
grabbing Kieran’s arm possessively.

“Stop smiling at him like that,
Jordi,” she sniffed good-naturedly. “Ye’re married already.”

Jordan grinned at her cousin and
threw her arms around Kieran’s massive arm, pressing herself against him.

“That may be, but I still appreciate
a fine man.” She looked into Kieran’s surprised face. “What say you, sir
knight? Would ye have married me had ye not met Jemma and had William never
existed? Well?”

He actually blushed at her jest. But
Jemma pushed herself closer to Kieran, putting her arms around his torso and
scowling at her cousin.

“Leave him be,” she ordered. “He’s
one man ye canna take away from me.”

Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. “I have
never taken any man away from ye.”

Jemma lay her head on Kieran’s
chest. “Mayhap not literally, but all the men look at ye and never me. Ye’re
too pretty, Jordi, and I have told ye that. So leave Kieran alone; you have the
captain.”

Jordan smiled faintly and shook her
head, thinking her cousin’s statements ridiculous. “Ye’re so beautiful and ye
dunna even realize it.”

“I realize it,” Kieran said softly.

Jordan gave the man a radiant smile,
glad he was backing her up on the matter. Michael shook his head at the entire conversation.

“I hate to interrupt, m-my
delectable stud stallion,” he said to Kieran drolly. “But we should be going.
They will be expecting Lady Jordan.”

Kieran gave Jemma a final squeeze. “Aye,
they will. We should be off.”

They all moved for the door,
including Jemma, until Kieran stopped her. “Just Jordan, sweetheart.”

She stuck out her lip. “But canna I
even go and watch from the shadows? Please?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nay, I
am sorry. ‘Twould be the king and queen you would be spying on.”

“I wouldna be spying,” she insisted.
“Oh, please, let me come and watch.”

“Not now, Jemma,” Jordan told her
cousin. “Ye’ll see them tonight at the feast.”

Jemma eyed both her cousin and
Kieran before sulking over to the high back chair and plopping her small body
on it. She didn’t say a word and Kieran was afraid he had mightily upset her.

“Tonight, Jemma. All right?” he
said, trying to pacify her.

She lifted her chin and looked away
from him, pouting. He started to go to her but Jordan put out her hand.

“Leave her be, Kieran,” she said
softly, then looked over at her cousin and raised her voice. “Acting like a
bairn, she is. ‘Tis not unusual.”

Jemma glared at them both again
before turning back around and curling up into a ball on the chair. Her hijinks
were making Jordan forget her own nerves as Michael opened the door and she was
escorted out by the two handsome knights.

Jordan’s nerves announced themselves
loud and clear the very moment she set foot into the grand hall. There were
more soldiers and courtiers than she could count, all distant and unfamiliar in
her grand hall. She would have felt as if she were in a completely different
place had it not been for the Northwood soldiers lining the hall in full
regalia and the sentries stationed in the gallery above.

The meal was an informal one, meant
to simply refresh after the journey and tide the guests over until the large
feast later on that evening. Kieran and Michael escorted Jordan through the
white-faced women and haughty men who made up the king’s caravan. She looked
the people in the eye, silently daring them to say one bloody negative word to
her. But even though she was putting up a brave front, inside she was feeling
exceptionally uncomfortable.

As they approached the dais, her
eyes immediately fell on her husband seated no less at the king’s hand. Even de
Longley was on the other side of William, one seat down from the king. Puzzled,
Jordan tried to keep her eyes downcast until she was spoken to.

Henry and Eleanor eyed the Scot
woman with interest. She was extremely beautiful, and that came of somewhat of
a surprise. Henry found his curiosity whetted; usually when the woman was as
beautiful as all that, she was as stupid as a door. He continued to observe her
for several long moments before speaking.

“Your full name,” he asked.

Jordan’s head snapped up. “The Lady
Jordan Mary Joseph Scott, daughter of Earl Thomas Scott of clan Scott, sire.”

Henry nodded. Jordan openly observed
the man, noting that one eyelid drooped profusely and gave him an almost dense
appearance. He was homely-looking, she thought.

“We are pleased with your
comeliness,” he finally said. “And we are also pleased that a mighty alliance
will be forged come the morrow. I, in fact, sent an invitation to your king,
Alexander, but he was unable to attend due to illness. A pity.”

“Aye, sire,” Jordan agreed quietly.

The king stared at her a few more
moments. William, at the man’s left hand, watched his wife impassively. God,
she looked lovely, but as nervous as hell. He didn’t blame her in the least.

Henry leaned around William to look
at the earl. “Fill her full of worthy English sons, John. She is of fine stock.”

Jordan heard the words, outraged
that she was considered no more than a brood mare. But she held her tongue and
her downcast expression, praying the man would dismiss her.

“Indeed,” Eleanor spoke up and
Jordan became nervous anew. “She is lovely. ‘Tis amazing to find one so lovely
and untouched. How old are you, child?”

Jordan looked at the queen, a
thick-featured plain woman. It was said that she was an extravagant woman, much
to her husband’s disapproval. Jordan could believe that rumor purely from the
jewels she wore.

“Twenty years, your highness,” she
replied.

“Twenty years.” Eleanor repeated. “You
are practically an old maid. Tell me; were you not betrothed to anyone at home?
Why have you not been married already?”

Jordan blinked. “I…I was betrothed
at one time, my lady,” she said. Not even William knew this particular detail
of her life and she spoke haltingly, knowing he was listening. “When I was a
bairn I was betrothed to the son of the clan chief Galloway. But my betrothed
was killed in a battle with the English when he was seventeen.”

“And your father did not immediately
make another betrothal?” Eleanor pressed.

Jordan felt sick. Why didn’t she
simply drop the subject? “Nay, my lady. My Da was rather particular about his
only daughter. He felt no one worthy for me.”

“The earl is worthy, however,” Henry
was back in the conversation, wanting to know if Laird Scott was snobbish in
general, not merely with his fellow Scots.

“Aye, sire, the earl is worthy,”
Jordan replied quickly. “My Da was pleased for the opportunity of peace.”

Satisfied with the answer, Henry
turned his attention away from her and she assumed she was dismissed. But
Eleanor, however, had other intentions.

“Come here,” she motioned to Jordan.

Jordan immediately went to her,
curtsying. Eleanor flicked her wrist in the general direction of a dozen women
to her right.

“The earl has requested one of my women
to guide you through your new station in life,” she said. “I have selected a
young woman who I believe will be quite to accomplish this task. Aloria?”

A tall blond separated herself from
the pack and stepped forward. Jordan’s eyes widened a bit; she was nearly as
tall as the knights, with long, straight hair and a prettier-than-average face.
But,
Sweet Jesu’,
she was big-boned; Jordan had a horrible feeling that
one wrong move or word and this woman could seriously disable her. She looked
as if she could take on some of the men at Northwood and win.

“This is Lady Aloria de Gare,”
Eleanor said. “She will serve you quite capably.”

Aloria moved around the table and
came to stand slightly behind Jordan. Eleanor, with a final glance of approval,
turned her attention away and Jordan knew she was dismissed.

She was expected to stay and eat
with the king and queen. Yet she was so nervous and sick that she knew if she
tried to eat a bite, it would all come back up again. However, she allowed a
steward to show her to a seat on the dais next to Analiese and she slouched in
her chair, trying to hide behind her friend.

“Where is that monstrous creature?”
she whispered to Analiese.

Analiese gazed inconspicuously over
her left shoulder. “About ten feet behind you, as she should be. She is a big
one.”

Jordan gave Analiese’s arm a squeeze
as a servant filled her trencher with mutton and spiced new apples. “God help
me,” she murmured as she tried to eat.

As worried as she was about Lady
Aloria, her biggest concern was her husband. She could not even look at William.
She felt as if she had fibbed to him somehow, when honestly, she never thought
to tell him that she had been betrothed as an infant. To be truthful, the
subject had never crossed her mind to tell him, but this was not an ideal
circumstance for him to find out . She knew he would be furious with her and
she didn’t blame him. She simply wanted to get this meal over with and retreat to
her chambers.

Her wish came shortly. The king and
queen were tired and wished to rest before the festivities began, graciously
dismissing their vassals as the earl and Alexander led them from the hall. Amazingly,
William wasn’t required by the king and when Jordan realized that, she was
panicked to return to their chambers to escape his wrath.

A servant led Aloria away and
Analiese had vanished, leaving Jordan walking alone as quickly as she could
from the hall without running.

She wasn’t fast enough. William
caught up with her just outside the hall and without a word, grasped her arm
and led her down a corridor and into a small solar. He waited until he closed the
door softly before even looking at her.

She tried to read his expression,
but she could not. He looked as controlled and neutral as always and she was
scared to death.

“You look lovely,” he said after a
moment.

“Thank ye,” she replied. “I couldna
decide what to wear and I am glad ye like it.”

He nodded faintly. “Indeed,” he
paced a few feet across the floor. “That was quite a revelation you dropped
before the king. Not even I was aware of it, and I thought I knew nearly
everything about you. You are, after all, my wife. Why is it that I never knew
you were betrothed to another man?”

Jordan swallowed. “I never thought
to tell ye, English. It was never of any importance to me.”

He looked at her and she saw his
gaze hardened. “It is of great importance to me. Who is this man that would
have married you?”

“I was betrothed to him when I was
three years old,” she said quietly, calmly, hoping he would understand. “His name
was Ian McCulloch and his father was Laird Galloway. I only met him four times
in my entire life; the last being one week before he was killed by the English
near Melrose. That’s all there is to it; I never knew him, nor loved him. I
only love ye.”

William was silent a moment. “The
last time you saw him…how old were you?”

“Sixteen,” she answered.

“And you felt nothing for him?”

Her eyes narrowed with puzzlement. “Nay,
English, I told ye that I dunna even know if I liked him at all because he was a
big brute with an arrogant disposition.”

William leaned his large frame
against the wall, crossing his arms. His movements were slow, and thoughtful.
His anger was abating with her straightforward answers, although he was still
perturbed that she had never mentioned this ‘little’ detail. If he was honest
with himself, he realized that he wasn’t angry as much as he was insanely
jealous.

“Very well,” he said. “Then tell me
this, wife. Is there anything else you wish to tell me that you feel
‘unimportant’ yet that I might find otherwise?”

She was glad he wasn’t too angry,
but annoyed that he was insinuating that she was keeping secrets. She pursed
her lips wryly. “Oh, let me see,” she said with exaggeratedly thoughtfulness. “Have
I told ye that I was once the kept woman of King Alexander and bore him twelve
bastards? Or, better yet, have I told ye that I have kissed every man south of
Edinburgh and there isna one of them who dunna live for the sound of my voice?

And I intend to conquer England the same
way.”

She was rewarded with a faint twitch
of his lips and he pushed himself off the wall, moving to within an inch of
her. With a soft, seductive gaze that took her breath away, he spoke. “You have
already conquered me.”

She smiled and threw her arms around
his neck, her lips latching onto his. She did not have to wait to feel his
muscular arms around her, or his lips responding to her. She laughed softly
with triumph.

“What does the king want of ye,
English?” she breathed as his lips paid exquisite attention to her soft neck.