The Wolfe (71 page)

“What is that, English?”

He placed it in the palm of her
hand. “Open it.” With the women occupied, he dared to bend down and kiss his
wife tenderly. “I shall see you at the ceremony.”

Jordan watched him leave before
opening the little box. Inside was the most beautiful gold heart, encrusted
with dozens of small garnets and attached to a delicate golden chain. It was
absolutely divine and she noticed a bit of parchment folded in the corner of
the box. Unfolding the paper, she read it:

You will always have my
heart.

Her eyes filled with tears as she
removed the necklace from the box. The women were still admiring the tiara and Jordan
slipped into the privacy of her bedchamber.

There, she removed the heart from
the chain and re-strung it on the chain that held her wedding band. The heart
and the ring tinkled against one another like a crystal bell as she slipped it
back over her head, forever to keep the two items most precious to her next to
her heart. She could part with any other possession she owned, but she would
die before parting with the two tiny treasures.

Sylvie barged into the bedchamber,
insisting that it was time to get dressed. Jordan allowed herself to be hustled
out into the antechamber and stood atop a short stool while Sylvie and Aloria
carefully dressed her in the ivory and gold surcoat. It was an extremely heavy surcoat,
with layers of fabric, and Jordan was already beginning to sweat beneath it.

She felt as if she had been standing
still for hours while Sylvie and Aloria fussed and tied and straightened. When
the ladies were finally satisfied that the dress was presentable, Jordan herself
proceeded to place the tiara atop her head. Crowning her flowing hair and
lovely face, she looked stunning.

The ladies stood back, admiring her
now that she was in full regalia.

“I do not think I have seen a
lovelier bride,” Sylvie said with satisfaction.

Jemma, who had been in her own
bedchamber dressing, came back into the antechamber to critically observe her
cousin. She studied her intently for a few moments before nodding her head with
approval.

“Aye, ye’re right,” she said
proudly. “There isna a more lovely woman in the whole world. Ye look like an
angel, Jordi.” She stepped forward to kiss her cousin’s cheek. Jordan knew she
was blushing with all of the praise, but several more coy glances into the mirror
confirmed the observations. She thought she looked rather good, too.

With Jordan and Jemma dressed,
Aloria changed into her best surcoat. Sylvie and the maids, being servants,
were not invited to the ceremony and were sent on ahead to the new apartments
Jordan would be occupying in the family wing of Northwood. There, they would
prepare the bedchamber for the wedding night they knew would not come. But
everything had to go smoothly, as if this were truly a wedding, so there would
be no confusion or doubt.

There was a knock on the door.
Analiese let herself in, gasping with delight at Jordan.

“Oh, Jordan.” she cried. “You look
like a princess.”

Jordan hugged her friend. “I feel
like one. Look at the tiara from Henry and Eleanor.”

Analiese admired it wholeheartedly,
showing a great deal of emotion for one so usually reserved.

“I do apologize for ignoring you
since Eleanor’s arrival,” she said after a moment. “But the queen demanded my
presence every day, and I have been very busy.”

“Dunna fret over it,” Jordan hushed
her. “I know how badly ye want to go to London. Mayhap the queen will ask ye to
go with her when she leaves.”

“Mayhap,” Analiese shrugged. “But
she has so many women already.”

“Then mayhap the earl will ask her
on yer behalf,” Jordan said hopefully.

Analiese shrugged again and smiled
bravely. “They are almost ready for you downstairs,” she said. “You should see
the chapel, Jordan. It is loaded with flowers and incense and people in fine
clothing. It is beautiful.”

Jordan smiled weakly, suddenly
feeling just the slightest bit nervous.

“I am so glad we are to be related,”
Analiese hugged her again.

Jordan’s smile faded. Aloria turned
her head away and pretended to busy herself, while Jemma faintly lifted an
eyebrow in Analiese’s direction. Firmly, Jordan broke from the embrace and
smiled brightly.

“Well, now, are ye to accompany me
downstairs?” Jordan asked. “I would like ye to stand with me, Analiese. Jemma
and Aloria are going to.”

“Of course I will,” Analiese said. “I
would not leave three ladies alone among all of those men standing at the altar.”

The women passed the remainder of
the time drinking the cider and talking softly about anything that came to
mind. As the sun rose higher and the temperatures increased, Jordan became
increasingly nervous. She could hear the activity in the baileys and the
people’s voices, knowing they had all come to see her. This was her day, and
she was about to go through with the biggest deception of her young life.

William’s words from the day before
kept swirling through her head - what would happen if the king found out about
their lie? Death for the earl and William, disgrace for her. Sweet Jesu’, she wasn’t
as brave as she thought, but it was too late to turn back now. She had to be
convincing.

The knock they had been waiting for
came. Jordan swallowed hard and tried to look regal as Aloria answered the
door. Every knight of Northwood was standing in the corridor; all ten of them.
Dressed in their ceremonial armor, bathed and shaven, there were no handsomer
men on the face of the earth. A smile of pleasure graced every woman’s face as
they beheld the sight; even Aloria. And none was more handsome than William.

He stepped into the antechamber, his
eyes softening at the sight of his wife, but highly aware of Analiese’s
presence.

“My lady,” he said, his voice husky
with emotion. “You look beautiful.”

Jordan’s gaze was riveted to her
husband as she curtsied. “Thank ye, captain.”

Paris pushed his way in, grinning
openly at Jordan. “Lord God, you are gorgeous,” he said with satisfaction. “I
think I shall marry you myself.”

Jordan giggled coyly, lowering he
gaze. It was an utterly charming move that had every man captivated. Finally,
William regained enough of his senses to move toward her.

“Your groom awaits, my lady,” he
said softly, extending his arm. “Are you ready?”

She looked up at him, feeling his
potency. It bolstered her sagging courage. “Aye, I am.”

Paris pushed his way next to her,
taking her other arm. Kieran took Jemma, Michael took Analiese, and with a good
deal of hesitation, Deinwald took Aloria. The other five knights formed a sort
of protective circle around the women as they made their way to the chapel of
Northwood.

Analiese watched the back of William’s
head, the longing in her heart painful. She had loved him as long as she could
remember. She would always love him, no matter what. No matter if he was in love
with her future stepmother. As it was, she was beyond jealousy for she knew she
had not a chance for a match with the illustrious Wolf. It was more of a
wishful longing for what could never be, a feeling she was learning to bank
more with time.

She hoped the queen would take her
back to court and she furthermore hoped she would find a suitable husband
there. The Wolf, it had taken her a good while to realize, was better left to
the wilds of the north. The sooner she forgot about him, the better.

The king’s soldiers were everywhere
as they walked. Jordan felt the stares of the men and kept her gaze lowered.
Even flanked by her husband and Paris, she felt scrutinized and vulnerable. With
every step, her anxiety rose just a little.

In order to enter the chapel from
the main doors, the party had to pass through the inner bailey. Outside, it was
exceedingly dusty and Jordan balked on the last stair.

“I dunna want dust all over my dress,”
she insisted to the puzzled knights.

Paris was closer. He leaned over and
swept her into his arms, flashing William a delighted grin. William shook his head
warningly, but noticed that Kieran, Michael and Deinwald did the same with the
other ladles and the action brought a smile to his lips. Ah, chivalry. With a
wiggle of his brows, he followed Paris and his wife.

Aloria, aloft in Deinwald’s muscular
arms, eyed him warily. He frowned at her intermittently, but there was no force
behind it.

“I could have walked, sir knight,”
she said.

He scowled. “You ungrateful
wen…woman. I am trying to spare your surcoat and you could be more thankful.”

“And could have just as easily
hoisted my skirts so they would not have draped along the ground.”

He looked her right in the eye. “Are
you always so disagreeable?”  

“Are
you
?” she returned with
a cocked eyebrow.

“Hell, yes,” he barked, shifting her
weight to get a better grip on her. He obviously had no intention of setting
her down. “You weigh as much as my horse.”

“I would understand if you are too
weak to carry me, then,” she said.

He glared at her. “I shall take my
hand to your backside and show you just how weak I am, wen…woman.”

She fought off a grin; he was
handsome in a boyish sort of way, and exceptionally strong. She liked the
feeling of his arms around her. “My name is Aloria, my lord. You may call me by
my name if you wish.”

He grunted and she did smile, then.
He was trying hard to avoid her gaze, knowing he would surely smile in return
and not wanting to. Well, not much wanting to.

As they crossed the compound,
William walked close to Paris, his wife’s head just inches in front of him.

“You push me to the limit, man,” he
growled to his second.

Paris laughed. “But do not you see?
This will put suspicion on me and away from you.”

William shot him a menacing glare as
Jordan turned around to look at her husband; instantly, his face went sweet.

Paris set her down as they entered
the cool, dim chapel. There were soldiers everywhere and inside, Jordan could
see a roomful of people waiting their chance to study her. Her nerves were
apparent.

But they gave her no time to dwell
on her lagging courage. As soon as Father Sutton saw that she was in the
church, he advanced to the altar and the earl stood, approaching it as well
with Alexander beside him.

With an encouraging wink, although
he wished he could have done more, William took his place a foot or so to her
left and bade her enter.

Father Sutton spoke Gaelic as if he
had been born into it. Although he mispronounced several words, he spoke so
convincingly that no one but a Scot would have known he had completely
butchered the Gaelic word for ‘Lord’. And he was swift in his delivery, as if
feeling he was committing a deadly sin by performing the ceremony at all, and
he moved quickly through the mass and prayers as well as the final benediction.
The priests that were assisting him kept looking at him as if he had gone mad.

The knights and ladies formed a cozy
little group around the earl and Jordan, nearly sealing them off from the rest
of the church. Jordan had lost sight of William and wondered desperately where
he was when, in fact, he was directly behind her. It would have eased her mind
considerably if she had known that.

When it came time for she and the earl
to drink from a common chalice, she was able to turn slightly and catch of glimpse
of her husband’s face. He was sweating profusely in the humidity dressed in
layers of armor, as were they all, but managed to give her a nearly imperceptible
wink. Her heart soared with the acknowledgement and nearly smiled, until she
caught a figure just inside her line of sight.

Henry, king of England, was staring
at her emotionlessly and a bolt of fear surged through her; the man could
destroy her life, all of their lives, if he so chose to do so. And why wouldn’t
he? They had all lied to him. Her nerves roared to life and she broke into a
cold sweat, uncontrollable horrors rolling through her mind. So many people
were in jeopardy because of a wedding she allowed to take place; it would then
be her fault if the king was to discover their deception.

William saw her hands start to shake
again and he was concerned. Up until this moment, she had handled herself
beautifully. He passed a glance at Paris from the corner of his eye and was met
with a puzzled look reflecting his own feelings. He wondered briefly if she was
becoming ill with all of the excitement and with the heat.

Jordan was ill, but not for those
reasons. The enormity of the situation was weighing heavily on her and she
wondered how on earth she was going to get through the rest of the day with
Henry and Eleanor bearing down on her. How could she convincingly live a lie?
What if she slipped up? What if she inadvertently said something? What if…?

Her emotions began to race, as did
her breathing. She could hear the priest intoning the remainder of the blessing
as if he were racing with the devil to finish it, but suddenly she could not
hear anything else but her heart pounding in her ears. Panic. Horror. Fear. Her
mind was reeling.