The Wolfe (91 page)

William cracked a smile. “Truth be
known, my lord, she runs all over me. She is willful, disobedient and stubborn,
but she is also the sweetest, most beautiful woman on the face of this earth and
I thank God every day that I am fortunate enough to have her.”

Thomas actually returned the smile. “Then
I can see ye know her well. How is it that the mighty Wolf, the scourge of
Scotland, has fallen in love with a Scot lass?”

“Scourge of Scotland?” he repeated
with a chuckle. “Sounds like the damn plague.”

“To most border Scots, ye
are
the damn plague,” Thomas said with a twinkle in his eye. “Including me, up
until the moment ye told me that ye married my Jordan. Now, I must say, I am
rather proud to have such mighty ties.”

William shrugged modestly. “Those
ties did you little good when the clans attacked. I am truly sorry for what
happened.”

Thomas’ mirth faded. “Ye’re not to
blame, lad. Those bastards were hell-bent on destroying me and even if ye had
been here, it might not have made any difference.” He didn’t want to talk of
that again just yet, he was still focused on his daughter. “Tell me how has
Jordi fared over the year.”

William’s expression softened and
Thomas could read the love he held for her. “She has done well, in spite of
everything.” He wasn’t going to mention all of the obstacles she had faced, not
just yet. “In fact, not two weeks ago, she bore you two grandsons.”

Thomas’ eyebrows shot up and his
mouth went slack. “Two grandsons?” he stammered. William laughed at his shock
and delight. “Good Lord, man, ye might as well of hit me with a ram. My Jordi
gave me twin grandsons?”

“Aye, she did, and gave me twin sons
in the process,” William said. “She named them Scott and Troy.”

“Strong names,” he said simply,
still reeling with the surprise. “Honorable names.”

Thomas suddenly felt as if he had
something to live for. When Langton had burned, he thought his life was over.
Now he knew it was not. He had a legacy to preserve.

He glanced about the room, moving
away from William. “I would like to see her and the lads, of course, but I
dunna think I should leave here. Not right now.”

“Why not?”

“The clans are still raging, lad,”
Thomas said. “They may have retreated, but I dunna believe they are finished.
‘Twould be best if I stayed here, lest someone find out I have been to England.
They would most certainly come back and kill me then.”

William nodded, understanding. “I am
reluctant to leave you unprotected, but I understand your reasons. They believe
that they have defeated you and it is best to let them think that for now. At
least until we know what their next move is. In fact, ‘tis probably not wise
for my men and I to be seen here in case there are spies about.”

Thomas nodded. “Correct. Ye must
leave immediately.”

William gazed back at his
father-in-law. “What will you do now?”

“There are dead to be buried, a keep
to be rebuilt,” he said and shrugged heavily. “I will keep busy enough.”

“Where is the rest of your immediate
family?” William asked softly.

Thomas took a deep breath. “Nathaniel
was killed, along with his sons Donald and Benjamin. Lilith and Anne burned in
the fire. I dunna know what happened to Cord, or Malcolm,” he sounded tired
again. “The clans took Caladora and Matthew and Ian went after her. I havena
seen any of them since.”

William had heard his wife mention
her cousin ‘Callie’ several times. “Where did they take her?”

Thomas shrugged. “Who knows? But I
would guess McKenna Keep, or Oliver Barr’s hold if she is even still alive. If
I thought it would do any good, I would trade my life for hers, but they wouldna
take it. They want me to suffer, and suffer I have.”

William felt a good deal of pity for
the man. The proud laird had lost everything, yet he had also gained a great
deal in the brief span of their conversation. Apparently the food as well as
the information had bolstered his faded strength.

William moved to the open door and
saw his men standing several feet down the corridor. He motioned to Paris.

“Laird Scott believes that it is not
wise for us to remain here,” William told the captain. “We begin burning bodies
tonight and leave before the dawn.”

“Aye, my lord,” Paris moved away
from him and back down the hall, issuing orders to the knights.

William glanced back at Thomas. “We’ll
help you with your dead and be gone.”

“Ye dunna have to,” Thomas said firmly.
“I am able enough to do it alone.”

William waved him off sternly. “I will
not hear of it. My knights and I will assist you.”

“Ye dunna have to, I tell ye.”
Thomas insisted forcefully. “Ye and yer men return to England.”

William shot him a quelling look
before he got control of himself. This man wasn’t to be ordered about like the
rest, he reminded himself. “I now see where Jordan gets her stubborn nature
from,” he said with a cocked brow.

Thomas scowled. “Ye’ve not yet begun
to see how stubborn I can be. Now, all of ye get home. I shall not tell ye
again.”

William faced off against the small
man, his huge hands on his hips. He met the Scot’s scowl. “I married your
daughter, did I not?”

Thomas looked perplexed. Where was
this leading to? “Aye, so ye say.”

William raised his brows. “So I say?”
he repeated, enunciating each word as if Thomas had insinuated he was lying
about the whole situation.

Thomas waved him off quickly. “Aye,
ye did marry her, so get on wi’ it.”

Satisfied that the man was properly
convinced, he continued. “And I am also the father of your grandsons, am I not?”

“Aye, aye, ye are,” Thomas conceded
impatiently.

William crossed his arms over his
broad chest smugly. “Then it also goes that for the very reasons I mentioned, I
am your son as well, am I not?”

Thomas looked dubious at first, then
his face relaxed a bit. “Aye, ye are at that,” he  snickered ironically. “Good Lord,
The Wolf is my son. So what are ye driving at, lad?”

“Simply that it is a son’s duty to
assist his father in any way possible,” William neatly summed up the
conversation. “As your son, I will help you with your dead.”

Thomas looked at him a long moment. “Ye’re
a sly one, Wolf. Very well, ye may help me, but be gone wi’ ye come the dawn.”

William grinned. “Aye, my lord. And
by the way, you may call me William.”

Thomas raised his brows. “Not The
Wolf? Ye would take away an old man’s pleasure?”

William laughed. “Oh, very well,
suit yourself. Hell, your daughter does no matter what I say.”

“What does she call you?” Thomas
asked.

William gave him a twisted smirk. “‘English’,”
he said. “Bloody hell, for the first week I did not even know if she knew what
my Christian name was.”

Thomas laughed, moving with William
down the dark hall as they proceeded to the devastated bailey, feeling as if
there were light and hope left in the world.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

Kieran pounded into the bailey of
Northwood as if he had no intention of stopping. Racing through the gates into
the inner bailey, he finally reined his chestnut destrier to a halt. He nearly
fell from the animal as he dismounted, his haste and fatigue getting the better
of him. He had to get to his wife with an urgency he felt to his bones.

The innards of Northwood’s keep were
icy and dank as his boots made sharp noises against the stone and his armor
rattled. He didn’t even know where Jemma might be, but he assumed she was in
the same rooms Jordan had occupied in the family’s wing.

That wing was his destination. If
she wasn’t there, he’d tear down the damn fortress brick by brick until he
found her.

God help him, the closer he got the
more apprehensive he became. All of the grief he had fought off was threatening
to rampage once again in his heart, but he could not let it. He had to remain
in control until he determined Jemma’s state of mind. He was actually fearful
that she might hate him for having deserted her in her hour of need, but he
told himself she had more sense than that. Jemma was hot tempered and
over-reactive, but she was not foolish.

His boots met with the expensive rug
that indicated the wing of the de Longley family. He forced himself not to run
the rest of the way.

He paused outside the door that led
to Jordan’s room, taking a deep breath to brace himself before entering. With a
mental shakedown, he lifted the latch.

The room was warm, a fire burning
brightly in the huge hearth. He was immediately met by Aloria, her blue eyes
wide with surprise.

“Sir Kieran!” she exclaimed. “We
thought you were with the army in the field.”

He removed his helmet and tossed it
onto the nearest table. “Where is my wife?”

Aloria’s eyes took on another, more
hesitant look. She glanced at the door behind her before taking a few steps in
his direction.

“She is in her bed, sire, but…I want
to forewarn you,” she said quietly. “Her humor is bad and her moods are ugly.
When your daughter died…I think a part of her did, too. She is having a most
difficult time dealing with her grief.”

Kieran looked at the woman before
allowing his gaze to drift over her blond head and to the half-open door.
Somehow he suspected that Jemma would not recover well from the death of the
babe; her nature was too deep and too caring.

With a sharp nod, he went through
the bedchamber door and closed it softly behind him, leaving Aloria alone in
the large antechamber wondering if she should stay or leave. Her heart went out
to the big, gentle man.

Jemma’s room was dark. He could make
out his wife lying on her side in the huge bed and wondered if she was
sleeping. Timidly, he moved around the bed to catch a glimpse of her face.

“Get out,” Jemma spat.

“‘Tis me, sweetheart,” he said huskily.

Jemma sat bolt up in the bed, her
amber eyes wide with astonishment. Kieran was shocked by the sight of her; she
was so pale that she was gray, and somewhere in her grief she had cut off all
of her glorious dark hair. His eyes widened at the above-shoulder cut, choppy
at best, and dirty as sin. All of her satin hair was gone. Yet through his
astonishment, his first thought was how sweet and pixie-ish she looked.

The bedclothes she lay in were
yellowed with stain and dark splotches he assumed to be blood. He wondered
horrifically if it were the surcoat she gave birth in and had refused to change
it. Her appearance was even worse than he had imagined and he was sickened.

“Ye’re here!” she gasped.

“Aye,” he tried to smile. “I came as
soon as I could.”

She continued to stare at him,
blinking with surprise. Then, suddenly, it was as if a cloud descended on her.
Her eyes went dark as a stormy night and her pretty mouth pressed into a flat
line. He knew instantly that all of his fears that she was angry with him were
justified. It was written all over her.

“Well, ye can just take yerself back
to London, Kieran Hage,” she snarled. “I dunna need ye here. I dunna want ye
here.”

He braced himself. “Yet I am here
just the same,” he said calmly. “I love you, Jemma, with all my heart. I am
sorry I could not be here when the babe was born, but it was impossible.”

“Ye weren’t here and the babe died!”
she snapped viciously, slapping her hand on the bed. “I dunna want to see ye
ever again. I hate ye!”

He slowly began to remove his armor.
“Even had I been here I would not have been able to save our child, Jemma,” he
said patiently. “The babe was stillborn.”

Tears spilled over onto her white
cheeks. “I hate ye, Kieran. Go away and leave me be.”

He could not stand seeing her like
this; his heart was absolutely breaking.

“You do not hate me and I will not
leave,” he said quietly. “I am your husband and I will not ever leave you.”

She began to sob loudly with grief
and pain and sadness. The last of his armor came off and he stripped off his tunic,
revealing magnificently muscled chest and arms. When he sat on the bed, she
screamed and bolted from the mattress.

“Get away from me!” she yelled at
him. “Dunna ever touch me again. Ye caused me this pain, ye bastard, by
planting yer seed in me. ‘Tis yer fault, all of this, and I shall hate ye until
I die!”

So now he had it. Everything she was
afraid of, the reason why she professed her hate for him. She blamed him for the
pregnancy and leading her through this tragedy. He was beginning to struggle
with his control.

“Jemma,” he said with gentle firmness.
“I know you are hurting, sweetheart, but I am hurting, too. That babe meant as
much to me as it did to you. But what happened was God’s will and we must
accept it. The babe is gone and venting your anger on me will not bring her
back.”