The Wolfe (63 page)

“The man is acting like a smitten
boy,” he replied, his breath hot on her skin. “It would seem that he has become
most impressed with my reputation and demands war stories from me.”

She was melting to him, forgetting
about the king and the queen and her nerves. He was making her tingle with
passion and desire and she knew she had to have him now, here, at this moment.

Her hands moved to the latches on
his armor. “Take this damnable stuff off,” she demanded huskily.

“I cannot,” he insisted, yet still
suckling on her skin. “I am required in the outer bailey.”

Undaunted, she unfastened a latch. “I
require ye now, English, and I am more important.”

She expected an argument, but
instead he began to unfasten his armor himself. In no time it was off except
for his greaves and Jordan’s passion was building with every breath. They were
so consumed with each other that nothing else in the world mattered at this
very moment but their need for one another.

The need was more powerful than the law,
protocol, or the very monarchy that resided within the walls. They had been
denied then wedding night, they would have their night now.

William picked his wife up and
carried her over to an overstuffed silk couch near the windows. He practically
threw her down, pushing her skirts up while she fumbled with the stays on his
breeches. When his huge organ was freed, red and throbbing, she massaged and
caressed it, loving the smooth feel of him. He moaned, his tongue licking her
pink mouth and tangling with her own tongue.

She was slick and hot when he pushed
deep into her, filling her with the proof of his desire. Her legs hung over the
sides of the couch as his rhythm took flight and they began to move together
with such force that the legs of the furniture thumped methodically.

Jordan’s legs wrapped around his
buttocks as if she could pull him deeper and deeper inside. His arms were
braced on either side of her and she clung to his neck, holding him as he drove
deep, deep, into her. The friction was building in her loins, a hot pressure
increasing with every thrust until she finally felt the release she sought in
warm, delicious convulsions of pleasures.

William, feeling her tighten and
throb around him, lost himself in her with a scalding eruption. He could not
have controlled it any longer even if he wanted to.

He put his legs down on either side
of the couch and pulled her up to sit on his thighs, his arousal still joining
their bodies. She cuddled against him, her hands inside his tunic and caressing
his skin with blissful satisfaction. His chin was resting on the top of her
head and he was in utter heaven simply to feel her, all of her, against him.

“If you had married this Galloway, I
would have never met you,” he thought aloud, frightening himself.

She looked up at him, her hands
still in his tunic. “Aye, ye would have. My Da was specific when he told Laird
Galloway that I wunna be allowed to marry his son until I was twenty-one; I
think because Da could not bear to part with me. I met ye on the battlefield
when I was but twenty.”

He remembered the meeting better
than anything else in his entire life. “I remember you said you weren’t
married,” he sighed. “My God, do you mean to say that if Galloway hadn’t died
and if I had waited a nominal amount of time to return to Scotland to thank you
for your kindness, then your marital status would have been changed in that
space?” he kissed the top of her head. “Lord, I would have run myself through
for my stupidity and the damn luck.”

She grinned. “Ye wouldna been able
to marry me, anyway, English.”

“You think not?” he said. “Had your
father not consented, I would have simply kidnapped you.”

“Ye would have?” she looked up at
him. “But…but I thought ye said ye would return to thank me for my kindness,
not ask for my hand.”

He cocked his eyebrow. “Marrying you
would have been your reward.”

Her mouth opened at his arrogance. “And
what if I dinna want yer thanks? Lord, yer a conceited man.”

He smiled provocatively again. “You
would have refused?”

She looked away coyly. “Mayhap.
After all, ye’re a Sassenach.”

His hands found then way underneath
the dress and he began to caress her soft bottom. It was no time before he was
once again rock-hard within her and she began ride him up and down. It was a
sweet, erotic position and she found that if she stood tall on her knees and
then plunged back down again, she could make him groan most wonderfully.

He came first this time, holding her
hips down on his member as he erupted into her. When she felt his pulsations,
her pleasure was almost instantaneous.

Limp with bliss, they clung to each
other for long, contented minutes. Jordan had no idea when she would next see
him and savored every moment, as did he. Therefore, they savored the moment.

Unfortunately, William truly had pressing
duties. He felt guilty making love to his wife twice and then bolting up, but
he had little choice. She understood, of course, or at least insisted she did
and in a few minutes they were going their separate ways.

Deinwald escorted Jordan back to her
chambers at William’s request. She was a bit apprehensive because she knew
Aloria would be waiting for her and she was, frankly, afraid of the woman. She
was simply as big as a man and from what else she noticed, she was attractive
and probably a bit older than herself. She wondered apprehensively what sort of
temperament the woman possessed.

She found Aloria in the antechamber
waiting tall and silent. Jordan entered the room and Deinwald followed, his
blue eyes glaring hostilely at the queen’s lady. Aloria curtsied to Jordan and
eyed Deinwald.

“My lady, ‘tis an honor to serve
you,” she said. “As I am to understand it, I will have the privilege of guiding
you through your new station.”

“Aye,” Jordan replied. “I hope I am
a good student.”

Aloria nodded shortly before eyeing
Deinwald again. “I am sure you will be, my lady. And as a first lesson, if I
may, a proper countess does not allow any man other than her husband in her
chambers. The knight must leave.”

Jordan turned to look at Deinwald.
His face was hard and glaring.

“You’ll not tell me to leave, wench,”
he growled.

Aloria didn’t back down as Jordan
knew she would not. “Lady Jordan is entrusted to me now and anything that
directly affects her well-being is my concern. If I say you will leave, you
will leave, or I shall have you removed.”

“And just who will remove me?”
Deinwald flared.

“I will, if I must,” Aloria replied
calmly.

As big as she was, she could
probably do it. Jordan cringed, although she was actually quite amused to see
Deinwald so ruffled.

“Try it, wench, and you’ll be sorry,”
Deinwald’s eyes narrowed in a challenge.

“Deinwald,” Jordan stepped in. “Dunna
call Lady Aloria wench, ever. I dunna like that term. And please do as she
says.”

He looked at Jordan uncertainly, not
wanting to leave her with a strange woman knowing how protective William was
for his wife.

“Aye, my lady,” he agreed
reluctantly, but not before shooting Aloria a deadly glare.

Jordan closed the door behind him
and smiled sheepishly at Aloria. “The knights are very protective of me,” she
explained. “But I do apologize for his rudeness. He can be rather surly.”

“I understand, my lady,” Aloria
said. “But from now on, you must conduct yourself properly and if it offends
the knights who have grown accustomed to being your escorts, then so be it.”

Jordan realized that this woman
meant all of the knights. “But…Sir William is my fiancé’s captain. In fact,
the earl has entrusted him with my safety always and he has had free access to
me since before my arrival. What of him?”

Aloria cocked an eyebrow. “I will
have a talk with Sir William, my lady, have no doubt.”

Jordan almost laughed; she would
like to be a fly on the wall when that conversation took place.

“Well,” Aloria said briskly after a
moment. “Since I have already settled myself, I will help you prepare for the
feast this evening.”

There wasn’t much to prepare for,
simply a bath and to be dressed, and all of that could be accomplished in a
couple of hours. There was plenty of time for Jordan to find out everything she
could about her new lady-in-waiting.

“There is time for that later,”
Jordan told her, moving for the high-back chair. “Tell me of yerself, Lady
Aloria.”

Aloria’s brisk manner faltered a
bit. “There is not much to tell, my lady. My father is the Earl of Devon and I
have two older brothers. I have served our gracious queen for four years, since
I was eighteen.”

“Did she order ye to serve me?”
Jordan asked.

“Aye, but I consider it an honor, my
lady,” she replied correctly.

Jordan looked at her a moment. “But
ye are displeased at leaving court.”

Aloria met her gaze for the first time
and cleared her throat before answering. “I like Windsor, my lady.”

Jordan cocked her eyebrow. “And now
ye find yerself in the wilds of northern England, far away from court life.”
She shook her head apologetically. “I am sorry if ye dinna want to come, Lady
Aloria. Having one of the queen’s women here was not my idea.”

For the first time, Aloria looked
less than the proper English court lady. Her eyes took on a sort of soft, sad
reflection. Jordan immediately was alerted to the change in mood and was aware
of the most human side of the stiff woman.

“Yet I have come, my lady,” she said
softly. “And I will serve you well, I vow it.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Jordan
looked intensely at the woman. “Why would I think otherwise?”

Aloria swallowed and squared her
shoulders, the stiffness returning. “I thank you for the opportunity, my lady.”

She deliberately avoided answering
the question and Jordan could see that it was because she didn’t want to, but
in that brief second that she had let her guard down there had been something
there, something painful. Jordan felt there was a reason why she was here at
Northwood other than the fact that the queen had ordered it.

But she would not pursue that now.
She shifted the subject as she rose from her seat. “I wish to take a walk now,”
she said. “Will you accompany me, Lady Aloria? ‘Twould be a chance to get a
look at Northwood.”

Aloria nodded shortly. “Of course. I
am your lady and I will go where you go.”

Jordan moved for the door and yanked
it open, jumping back in surprise to find Deinwald, Michael and Marc standing
in the doorway. They were as surprised as she was and she saw immediately that
they had been listening at the door.

Aloria suddenly jammed herself
forward, putting herself between Jordan and the knights.

“There will be no more of this.” she
boomed. “Lady Jordan is not a young maiden to be gaped and leered at, and you
will cease this moment. If I find any of you loitering at her door again, then
your punishment will be swift.”

The three knights looked taken
aback, if not irritated. Deinwald rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet curse.
Michael cleared his throat.

“M-my lady, we do neither gape nor leer
at Lady Jordan,” he said. “‘Tis our sworn duty to protect her; always.”

Aloria glared at him when Marc took
a step forward. “Whether or not you like it, my fine court lady, we are Lady
Jordan’s shadows,” he said quietly. He had a very deep and authoritative voice.
“You cannot get rid of us, so you might as well become accustomed to our
presence.”

Aloria’s chin jutted up. “We’ll just
see about that.”

He nodded readily. “Aye, we will,”
he countered with equal firmness. Marc could rile very quickly. “Obviously, you
have not been advised that there have been attempts on Lady Jordan’s life or
you would not make such a ridiculous statement.”

Aloria looked at Jordan in surprise.
No, she had not been told, and now she felt a bit embarrassed. Swallowing, she
turned back to the knights.

“Then I stand corrected,” she said
with forced humility. “I will not demand that my lady be rid of you, but I will
ask that you keep a proper distance. Now, if you would like to accompany us, my
lady wishes to go for a walk.”

The knights silently fell in behind
the two women and made it to the stairs when they were confronted by Jemma and
Kieran. Jemma’s amber eyes immediately flashed malevolently at Aloria.

“Ah, so this is yer court wench, is
it?” Jemma was in Aloria’s face, daring her to respond to the insult. She was
always particularly brave with Kieran behind her.

Aloria cocked a blond eyebrow. “I am
her lady-in-waiting if that is what you were trying to say.”

Jemma. Sassy Jemma. She put her
hands on her hips and looked Aloria over as if inspecting a side of beef.

“Ye’re a big one,” she observed, not
at all nicely. “Why did the queen pick ye?  Is it because if Jordan has trouble
learning English customs, ye can beat the lesson into her?”