The Wolfe (90 page)

William didn’t take the offensive,
not yet anyway. He was still lingering on the words spoken to him by the irate
Scot. He had called the structure ‘his home,’ which could only mean he was a
Scott.
Damn.
He could not see a bloody thing in the cloying darkness!

Paris stood back, sword in hand,
watching the amazing little soldier go after William. After the first few
seconds it became increasingly apparent that the small man was the only person
on the attack; there were no men waiting in the wings to ambush them all and
slice them to death.

When Michael and Ranulf moved to aid
William, he waved them off. He had heard the words the man had spoken, too.
This was his home they had invaded.

William stepped back, tripped over a
bit of debris but recovered with the grace of a cat. The man was chopping at
him vigorously, grunting with his effort.

“Where is Thomas Scott?” William
demanded, diverting another blow.

“Prepare to die, ye…!” The man
suddenly faltered, the sword freezing in mid-chop. “Ye’re bloody English.” The
accent had caught him by surprise.

William kept his sword in front of
him warily. “Aye,” he replied. “I am William de Wolfe. Who are you?”

“De Wolfe?” The man was still in the
same position, still in the shadows so William could not see his face. “Northwood’s
de Wolfe?”

“The same,” William, too, hadn’t
changed positions. “You have not answered me. Who are you?”

It seemed like an eternity. The man
maintained the raised sword for several long, drawn-out moments before slowly,
laboriously, lowering the blade. William, however, maintained a protective
stance, unsure if the down stance was permanent.

To his surprise, the man’s sword
clattered to the stone floor. William sheathed his own blade slowly, watching
the phantom figure as he took a few staggering steps backwards, tripping over a
burnt piece of wood and landing on his bottom. William followed him at a
distance, straining for a glimpse of his face.

“What happened to ye, Sassenach?”
the man asked softly, painfully.

William crouched down a few feet
away, noting that Paris had stepped closer with a torch. In the warm flickering
light, he could make out the features. Amazement and relief filled him.

“Laird Scott?” he breathed.

Thomas Scott looked dully at him,
his eyes dark circled, his whole body filthy and worn.

“We are allied with ye, man,” Thomas
said faintly. “Where were ye when we needed ye?”

It was a question from the soul.
William felt a surge of flaming anger at Alexander, hoping he was burning in
hell at that very moment. He sighed heavily.

“The Scots cut us off,” he explained
lamely, knowing it was no excuse at all. “We underestimated their strength. By
the time we broke through the lines, the damage had been done.”

Thomas stared back at him, the
blatant pain touching William. This was Jordan’s father, his father-in-law, the
grandfather of his sons. He felt completely helpless and entirely to blame.

“I know,” Thomas said, much to
William’s surprise. He had expected ranting and cursing at the very least,
calling him a liar. “Our spies told us the clans formed a line between Langton
and England. To divide and conquer is what they intended to do. They conquered
us. How did ye fare?”

“We fought them off,” William
replied. “Northwood stands.”

Thomas nodded once, faintly. “And my
daughter. How is she?”

William could not help himself, he
smiled faintly. He suddenly remembered Jordan’s plea to go easy on her father
when he informed him of who she had actually married.

“She is well,” he replied
noncommittally. Honestly, he didn’t think the man was strong enough to hear any
more at the moment.

Thomas nodded again, not noticing
the smile on the baron’s face. In faith, he was so damn tired he could have
cared less about anything. He simply wanted to die and be free of his misery.

“Then I am glad. But, as ye can see,
there is no longer need for the contract. We canna offer ye anymore support,
military or otherwise. Langton doesna exist anymore.” His dim eyes filled with
weary, pained tears, seeking out William’s gaze in the darkness. “Pray be good
to Jordan, man. She is worth nothing but the clothes on her back now, but she is
more precious than gold. Dunna allow the situation to reflect unkindly on her.”

William’s chest constricted tightly
at the man’s anguish for his daughter. Of course he believed that with Langton
gone and the treaty voided for all intents and purposes; Jordan was now at the
mercy of the English earl to do with as he pleased. She was his chattel. God,
he was going to enjoy relieving the old man’s mind. Jordan was safer than he
could possibly know.

“When did you eat last?” William
asked quietly.

Thomas sniffed loudly, angrily dashing
away an errant tear. “I…I dunna know. Mayhap yesterday or the day before.”

William rose, extending a helping
hand. “Come, my lord. We have much to discuss.”

Thomas eyed the outstretched hand
distrustfully, glancing for the first time at the knights behind The Wolf. It
was as if one could read the emotions rippling across his face as he regained
his composure.

“What do ye want of me?” he asked
warily.

William silently reached down and
pulled him up by the arm. Thomas pulled away from him, although the assistance
had not been unkind.

“Is there some place we can go and
sit?” William asked, turning to his men. “Bring the provisions.”

Thomas was wise, and even in his
disoriented state he knew that if these men had come to kill him, they would
have done so by now. More than that, there was something in The Wolf’s voice,
something almost gentle that disarmed him. He didn’t know what to think. In his
fatigue and desolation he was indecisive. But, as asked of him, he wearily led
them down a burnt-out corridor into a small room completely void of any
furniture. There was, however, a narrow alcove with a window seat.

“‘Tis the only place left to sit,”
he indicated the stone bench.

William nodded, stepping back as
Corin and Deinwald set down the saddlebags bearing food. William dug through
one, bringing forth a bladder of wine and offered it to Thomas, who drank nearly
the whole thing in three swallows.

Good,
William thought to
himself.
This should fortify him for the news to come.

The wine tasted wonderful and
soothed Thomas’ parched throat. Feeling a bit braver, he sat on the bench and
dug into the other saddle bag, helping himself to a chunk of black bread. He
didn’t realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite.

William motioned to the other
knights until they were all eating or drinking something, the past few days had
been especially long and there had been little, if any, time to rest. After
several minutes of partaking in the dried-out goods, William continued their
conversation.

“Where are all of your men, my lord?”
he asked as he bit into a small green apple.

“Dead, or run off,” Thomas swallowed
a mouthful. “I carried near six hundred. The allied armies must have numbered
over a thousand. We coulda held them off for a long while had we not had a
traitor in our midst. As the armies snuck up under the cloak of night, someone
opened our gate. After that, it was chaos.”

William nodded. “And they destroyed
everything and everyone in their path. How on earth did you manage to survive?”

Thomas shrugged. “It seems they
dinna want me,” he said, reliving the horror in his mind. “Seems they thought a
fitting punishment would be to destroy all that I am, all that I have, and make
me live to see it.” He fixed William with an awesome gaze. “But I know one
thing - had they taken Northwood, what they woulda done to Jordi would have
been…unspeakable. She is the focal point of much of this hostility because she
married a Sassenach.”

William stiffened. “They would not
have touched her, I can guarantee you that,” he said with much more force than
he had intended.

Thomas looked curiously at him,
cocking his eyebrow the same way his daughter did. William felt the pangs of
separation stir in him again at that small gesture, but in the same breath
wanted to laugh because he had resembled her so much at that moment.

“Ye’re The Wolf but ye arna God,”
Thomas said. “They meant to take her, I say, and they woulda had they breached
yer fortress. But thank God that they dinna and I have one thing to rejoice
for. My Jordan is safe.”

William was staring at the
half-eaten apple in his hand, turning it over and over. “Even if they had
breached the wall, she wasn’t in the compound,” he said softly, raising his
head to look at the Scot. “She is in London.”

Thomas’ eyebrows rose. “London? What
is she doing there?”

Paris heard the question, knowing
the time had come to break the news to Laird Scott about the events in his
daughter’s life over the past year. Silently, he motioned the knights to vacate
the room and allow the two men their privacy.

William caught the movement out of
the corner of his eye and waited until the room was empty save he and the laird.

“Events have not gone exactly as
planned, my lord, as far as Jordan is concerned,” he began with a deep breath. “She
is married to an Englishman, but she did not marry the earl of Teviot.”

Thomas looked stunned, completely
forgetting about his fatigue. “What do ye mean, man? What’s happened to her?”

William looked at him, wondering if
he were going to be facing the sharp end of the blade once he told the laird
the whole story. As he had seen the very first day he had met the man, Thomas
Scott was extremely protective of his daughter. But, then again, so was William.

“It seems she fell in love with
another man,” he continued softly. “But, of course, she fully intended to marry
the earl in spite of her feelings. That was until the earl found out. Since he
had no interest in marrying her anyway, he allowed her to marry the other man
with his blessings. And he would still honor the treaty.”

Thomas’ eyes were as wide as
saucers. “Married another man, did ye say? A man she loved?” he repeated. “And
the earl allowed this in spite of the king? Good Lord, man, who was this man
that he would make her forget her duty?”

William fixed him right in the eye. “Me.”

Thomas blinked at him a moment. Then
it was as if an unseen force struck him in the chest, he sat back heavily and
bumped into the wall, all the while staring at William in disbelief.

“Ye?” he echoed, then louder. “She
married
ye
?” He suddenly shot to his feet in amazement. “My Jordan
married The Wolf?”

“Aye,” William could read no
hostility, only utter surprise. And a little amusement, he ventured. He began
to feel a little more at ease with his confession. “My lord, I loved Jordan
from nearly the very first that I saw her. The earl allowed me to marry her
because of his respect for me.” He rose and faced Jordan’s father. “Even though
I fought for the earl, ‘tis well known who truly controls the border. I was the
force behind the name de Longley. Whether or not she married me or the earl,
‘twould mean the same result: peace along the border.” He left out the part
about Jordan tending him on the field of battle two years ago, the true point
in time he started loving her. He did not feel it necessary that the laird know
that portion of the story.

Thomas lost all of his amazement
after that statement. “What does the king have to say?” he asked.

“The king did not know at first, for
obvious reasons,” William said. “In fact, Jordan and I were married a day
before she was to marry the earl. The king attended what he thought was a
wedding, when in fact, it was simply an elaborate mass. The priest did it all
in Gaelic because the king understood Latin and we did not want him
understanding what was said. Eventually, the king was informed and now he is
most pleased with the arrangement.”

“But Jordan is married to an earl,
not a border laird,” Thomas reminded him. “What about the peace treaty?”

“Aye, she is married to a border
lord,” William told him. “You see, on the same day as Jordan’s mock marriage to
the earl, I was bestowed with a barony. Castle Questing is now my seat, not
Northwood. Jordan is in London because I was in London acting as the king’s
champion.”

Thomas was impressed. “Ye are the
king’s champion?” he repeated, running his hand through his graying hair
thoughtfully. “Good Lord, man, this is more news than I can take in one day.
How can so many things happen in one short year?”

William smiled faintly. “Amazing, is
it not? I am sorry to have to burden you all at once with this, I had hoped for
a proper place and time.”

Thomas nodded, looking at William
for a long moment. “The first time ye came to my fortress and looked at my daughter,
I thought I caught something in yer manner towards her. I couldna put my finger
on it, but I detected something,” he said. “So ye love her, too, do ye, Wolf?
She is God’s angel on earth, I shall grant ye, so ye better be good to my lass
or so help me I shall bleed ye right here.”