The Wolfe (68 page)

“I heard you call her Lady de Wolfe,”
she whispered.

William was holding Aloria so
tightly that he was cutting off the blood flow to her arms. She met his gaze,
however frightened she might be, watching to see what he was intending to do to
her.

Jordan stood near the antechamber
door, her hand over her mouth in fright. Had William been right? Was Aloria a
spy? If she was, she now knew their secret and Jordan was terrified. She didn’t
know what to think.

William’s enraged face relaxed a bit
as he stared back into Aloria’s terrorized blue eyes. But his jaw was ticking
and the veins on his temple bulged, strongly indicating the level of emotion he
was feeling.

“You have put me in an awkward
position,” he said most quietly. “You are not a very good spy; it has been a
long time since I have caught one.”

“I am
not
a spy,” Aloria
insisted hotly. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Then how do you explain
eavesdropping at Lady Jordan’s door?” William fired back.

“I was not eavesdropping,” she said
persistently. Oh, lord, he had to believe her. “I told you the truth. I was coming
to thank her for her support and the door was slightly ajar. I did not know
that you were in the room with her.”

William clenched his teeth. True,
she didn’t know he was in the bedchamber with Jordan. And, true, the door was
ajar. But the woman had just discovered Northwood’s mightiest secret and all of
their lives were now in jeopardy. She had to be silenced, unfortunately for
her.

He lowered his gaze but did not
release her. “You leave me with no choice.”

“No, English.” Jordan suddenly
cried, racing to him. “Dunna do it.”

Jemma opened her bedchamber door,
having heard the entire conversation. She wasn’t about to let William kill
Aloria, either. But instead of going to stop him, she fled the room in search
of Kieran or Paris. They were the only men who could stop him, if at all.

“Jordan, go back into your
bedchamber and close the door,” he told her calmly.

“Nay.” she cried, clutching one of
his arms. “Dunna kill her. Oh, please,
no.
”

Jordan was starting to cry and Aloria
was already sobbing. But William was hard and knew what he had to do. Too many
people’s lives depended on it.

“Jordan, do not argue,” he yelled at
her. He never yelled at her. “Go back into your room.”

She was tugging at his arm, her
beautiful face coated with frightened tears. “I willna let ye.” she wept. “Ye
canna murder her.”

“Jordan, I have no time for this. Do
as you are told.”

She began beating on his arms,
trying to force him to release his hold on the woman. But it was like striking
iron and her hands were smarting.

“I willna let ye kill her,
Sassenach,” she wept, furious as well as frightened. “She says she wasna spying.
Why dunna ye listen to her?”

He could not think with his wife
hysterical. Grasping Aloria by the hair, he freed up one of his hands and took
his wife by the arm and attempted to shove her back into her bedchamber.
Jordan, however, proved to be uncannily strong and fought him every step of the
way.

He grunted with exertion, Aloria
struggling in one hand and Jordan fighting like a tiger in the other. As
intense and focused as he was, all of a sudden the situation with his wife
struck him as comical and he fought off the desire to laugh. He was trying to
save her life and she wasn’t cooperating in the least.

“Let me go.” she twisted and tried
to slug him.

He sidestepped the blow and pushed
her into the bedchamber, slamming the door closed. There was a small bolt at
the top of the door; he slid it through and locked her in.

He had to close his ears to her
screaming and kicking, hating himself for being so cruel, but knowing what he
had to do. She would understand, too, eventually. He only hoped she didn’t hate
him, for an overlong amount of time.

Pulling Aloria to him, he hastened
to the antechamber door when he was suddenly met by Paris and Kieran.  Jemma
stood behind them, shaken and tearful.

“What goes on, William?” Paris
asked, eyeing the hysterical Aloria.

William was in no mood to be
challenged again, but he did his knights the courtesy of explaining. There was
no telling what Jemma had told them.

“She is a spy,” he said quietly,
quickly. “She was eavesdropping at Jordan’s door and discovered the truth about
her.”

Kieran and Paris looked at the big
woman. “Christ,” Kieran muttered in disgust. “A plant from Henry, no doubt.”

“Give her to me,” Paris said quietly.
“I shall take her.”

“Nay,” William replied. “I will do
this. I will not have her blood on your hands.”

From behind Jordan’s locked
bedchamber door there was suddenly a frenzied burst of cursing and pounding,
all directed at William. Jemma, behind the knights, thrust herself forward.

“What did ye do to her?” she
demanded harshly to William.

William wasn’t going to dignify her
question with a response; he had no time for her. When she tried to move past
him and to Jordan’s door, Kieran reached out and grabbed her.

“Nay, Jemma, leave her,” he said firmly.
“I suggest you retreat to your bedchamber as well.”

“Nay, I willna. I willna allow ye to
conspire to kill Aloria.” she spat, taking a swing at Kieran’s face.

He ducked her fist, snatching her
arm. “Do as I say.”

“Nay.” she screamed, all feet and
fists. “I wunna let ye take her.”

Kieran grabbed her, but not before
she made good contact with his left cheekbone. He hauled her up against him,
kicking and screaming and fighting him every step of the way as he took her into
her bedchamber. When he exited the room and tried to close the door, she
attempted to break free and he was forced to push her back, hard, so that he
could close the door completely and bolt it from the outside.

William could now do as he intended.
He had Aloria roughly by arm, guiding her out of the room and into the
corridor. The knights could still hear Jemma and Jordan screaming and cursing
like wild fiends until Paris closed the antechamber door and they were all
alone in the dim hall.

“Where to, William?” Paris asked.

“The cellar.”

Aloria, her face white and wet with
tears, turned around to look at him. “I beg of you, my lord, do not do this
horrible deed. I am no spy; I swear it on the blessed Virgin. I care not that
you are married to the earl’s intended. I only want to live, here, and serve
your wife. She has been most kind to me.”

William ignored her pleas, but Paris
looked at her. “You are a clever one to make both ladies defend you so.”

“I am not clever.” she cried out. “I
am a simple woman, nothing more. I can only swear to you on the Bible of our
Lord that I will not reveal your secret, nor could the devil himself wring it
from me. You must believe me, my lord, please.”

He ignored her again, but he had
heard her words and they cast a shadow of doubt in his mind. What if she was
telling the truth and he executed an innocent woman? His wife was an excellent
judge of human character, and she believed Aloria to be innocent. What if she
was
innocent? Good God, as much as he hated premeditated murder, he was about to
commit it and he wasn’t convinced anymore that he should.

Kieran and Paris flanked him and the
prisoner as they made their way to the lower levels of Northwood, into the
‘cellar,’ an underwhelming term for a vast, cavernous labyrinth of dungeons.

The small party moved into a seldom
used off-shoot of the stuffy first level, to the very last room at the end of
the dim narrow hall. It was completely silent, void of any occupants. A most
appropriate place to commit an execution.

“I shall do it,” Kieran said
gravely. “‘Tis not fitting for you to do this, William.”

“If anyone will do it, ‘twill be me,”
Paris said. “As his second, it is my duty to….”

William roughly shoved Aloria into
the dank, musty room. “Shut up, both of you. This is my duty, as it was my
secret she discovered. My main concern now is what to tell the queen. If you
wish to help, then think of a plausible excuse. Now, get out of here and let me
accomplish this task alone.”

Paris and Kieran looked long and
hard at him but obeyed. When they were gone, William followed Aloria into the
room and closed the heavy door behind him.

Aloria was curled up in a ball at
the far wall. In the light of the dim torch, he could see her head buried
between her knees and her whole body shaking.

“What in the world ever possessed
you to become a spy for the king?” he demanded after a moment. “Why, woman? I
am trying to understand this.”

Her head came up. “I told you, my
lord, I am not a spy. It was an accident, all of it. I would not lower myself
to the ranks of the cowardly for a simple reward or bauble in return for my
services. If I was to become such a wretched creature, I would choose to be a
whore, for at least I would be receiving a certain amount of pleasure for my
efforts.” Her eyes were wide, beseeching him for mercy. “My lord, your wife was
kind to me. Kinder than anyone has ever been in my entire life. I would not do
something as despicable as spy on her, and though you are planning to kill me
for such a crime, God knows of my innocence.”

Doubts were filling him. To hear her
speak, to understand her reasoning, he was now beginning to see for himself
that she was an intelligent, well-bred woman. His only contact with her until
this point had been a turbulent one, but now that he had spoken with her, he
found himself beginning to believe her.

Her only crime, if he were to be
reasonable, was to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time and hear a
bit of confidential information. If she had been a spy, she would not have
tripped over her own feet in her haste to retreat.

So many lives depended on what this
stranger knew. Mayhap he should discuss this with the earl; after all, he was
directly affected, as well. William was not the sort to act in haste, but he
realized now that was exactly what he had done.

“Aloria,” he said in a low voice. “Look
me in the eyes and swear to me on everything that is holy that you are not a
spy, and I will take that into consideration.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I am not, nor
have I ever been, a spy.”

“But you realize that you carry
knowledge only a select few, very trusted people know.”

“And I also know that you are more
angry at me for having that knowledge than you actually believe that I am a
spy,” she replied. “My lord, I care not that you have married Lady Jordan. Why
would I?”

“Because you are a vassal of the
king, and any loyal vassal would reveal a deception of this magnitude.”

“Aye, but you are a vassal, as well,”
she countered. “And there is a good reason why you have not revealed your
secret to our king, matters which I neither care about nor concern me. Who am I
to question the motives of the illustrious Wolf?”

He looked down at her and she was
hoping beyond hope that he was reconsidering his intention. But much to her
horror, he deliberately removed his mighty sword from its scabbard and ran a
finger along the sharp edge. The movement was slow, calculated, bordering on
the actions of a madman. Horrified, she continued to watch as he intentionally
drew his own blood.

“If I were to believe you and let
you go, what is to say that you will not run right to Henry and spill yourself?”
he asked slowly, his eyes glittering like the devil.

She gulped at the blood streaming
down the side of the pristine blade. “I can only give you my word, my lord. I
will take your secret to my grave.”

“I know you not. What good is your
word?”

“The word of a bastard daughter of
noble breeding,” her throat was tight with fear. “I respect your wife, my lord,
and would do nothing to harm her.”

William cocked an eyebrow. “And I
love my wife and would kill without hesitation for her.”

Aloria blinked fearfully; the entire
length of the broadsword was lined with red blood. “My lord, would that I could
change things. But I cannot. I have sworn my loyalty to you in spite of your
doubts, and there is nothing more I can say. If you are going to kill me, then
get on with it.”

William stared at her for a long
while, seeing nothing but honesty and truth in her eyes. She never wavered from
her story; not once.

Rapidly sheathing his sword, he
turned on his heel and was gone, bolting the heavy door.

Shaken and astonished in every sense of
the word, Aloria vomited her guts into the moldy straw.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Kieran and Paris met their captain
at the top of the stairs as he ascended from the dark bowels of the cellar.