The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He looked dubiously at her, then turned to Paris again. “You should not have allowed this.”

  “What was I to do?” Paris lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat. “She demanded it of me twice and then threatened to get out by herself if I would not help her. I assure you, she has done nothing but sit here for six hours.”

  “Six hours?” William mumbled, running his hand through his hair. “Damn, how long have I been asleep?”

  “About seven hours,” Paris replied. “ ’Tis a little after the nooning meal.”

  William looked down at Jordan, his heart singing with happiness again now that he knew she was not going to disappear before his eyes. “Have you eaten anything at all?” he asked.

  “A little,” she said. “But I was hoping we could sup together.”

  Paris smiled. “And I shall be happy to personally retrieve your meal,” he said. “But I must warn you, ’twill be difficult to fight Jemma off if she sees that you are strong enough to eat. She is desperate to see you.”

  “Fight her off as long as ye can,” Jordan looked lovingly up at William. “I wish to be alone with my knight.”

  They were lost to the world, seeing and hearing only each other. Paris slipped quietly from the room, feeling happier and lighter than he had in years.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Jordan recovered rapidly over the next few days, eating well and begging to be let out in the sunshine with every other breath. The earl came to visit her several times a day, usually with Adam when the lad wasn’t standing watch outside her door. He was pleasant with her and thankfully kept his visits short. His show of concern touched her.

  William tried not to be with her every minute now that she was recovering, but it was difficult for him. When he wasn’t with her, his mind was on her and it made it hard to concentrate on his duties. Yet with the passing days it was easier to focus knowing she was going to be well again. He knew she was almost fully recovered on the fourth day when she tried to seduce him, laughingly and playfully, but he fought her, although it had been extremely difficult. He promised her that there would be time enough for that later.

  The knights, one by one, had taken turns watching her door and alternately sitting with her. It became obvious to Jordan that they thought she had been as good as dead, too, and she was pleased to see how relieved they were.

  By far the knight who spent the greatest amount of time with her was Deinwald. He would come and read to her, sometimes all afternoon. She would fall asleep on him and wake up to find that he was still sitting next to her. He would not speak much of himself, but he read her the entire book of Plato’s Critias, a valuable part of the earl’s substantial library. Even gruff, crusty Ranulf came to see her every day. She took it on as a personal challenge to see if she could get him to smile at her, and she always won.

  Jemma still had not returned to Langton. The earl decided that Lady Jordan had been through enough trauma and he would not add to her distress by sending her one and only lady-in-waiting back home. He did, however, write to the queen regarding obtaining a court woman for Jordan, and the answer had come back rapidly that a woman was on her way. Jordan didn’t know who was more apprehensive over that; her or Jemma.

  Jordan had not seen Analiese or Alexander since the first day she had arrived. Neither one had so much as sent a message to her the entire time she had been in the infirmary, but she was not upset by it. If they wanted to ignore her, then so be it.

  Remarkably, Jordan found herself alone in her rooms on the sixth day of her recovery. She was feeling much stronger and managed to get herself up from bed, albeit slowly, and make her way stiffly to the window. Her shoulder was wrapped tightly but she could move her arm and hand a little. The pain was there but bearable. She inhaled deeply of the sweet summer air; she relished it. She was happy to be alive.

  She wore a robe of quilted gold brocade, a gift from her future husband. She ran a careful finger over her shoulder, wondering if she would ever feel comfortable wearing off-the-shoulder surcoats again with the ugly purple scar exposed. But she comforted herself in the fact that the scar was next to her neck on the thick of the muscle and easily covered by hair worn loose. It was silly feminine vanity, but a concern nonetheless.

  As she inspected the feel of the healing wound, there was a knock on her door. It was only a courtesy, of course, for no one ever waited for her to open it. They simply barged in. She smiled warmly as the earl, followed by William, entered her bedchamber.

  “Great Gods.” the earl exclaimed. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “Enjoying the day, sire,” she replied, then her eyes found William and she greeted him. “Sir William.”

  As William acknowledged her with warmth in his eyes, the earl went to her and took her gently by the arm.

  “I will not stand for this, my lady,” he led her back over to the bed and practically forced her to sit. “You must rest until you have regained all of your strength.”

  “But, sire,” she begged. “I feel much stronger, truly, and I would be ever grateful if ye would allow me to go out in the sunlight, if only for a few moments. ’Twould help me recover faster, I know it.”

  De Longley was weakened by the pleading. He looked doubtfully at her before glancing at William.

  “What say you, Captain? Should I allow it?” he asked.

  William shrugged, his eyes twinkling at Jordan. “I must agree with Lady Jordan, my lord. The fresh air will do her good. Besides, she is ready to tear down these walls and I cannot say that I blame her.”

  The earl nodded after a long, thoughtful moment. “Very well,” he said to William. “Take her outside but do not let her feet touch the ground. And do not keep her overlong. Take Lady Jemma and a few of the knights if you wish. Hell, make a parade of it. Lord knows she deserved a celebration for surviving a nearly mortal wound.”

  “Thank ye, sire,” Jordan said, excited she was actually going to be able to go beyond these four walls with William.

  “My pleasure, my lady,” the earl replied. “But, in faith, that is not why my captain and I are here. This coming week will be one filled with events and we wish to brief you on what is coming. First but not foremost, my son, Adam, will begin his knighting ceremony at dusk tomorrow. As you know, this will go on all night until the morning when Sir William will receive him into the brotherhood.”

  Jordan nodded her understanding. “Of course, my lord,” she said. “I am thrilled that your son is finally to be knighted. ’Tis a proud thing.”

  The earl sat heavily in the chair next to her bed. “I have also received word that the king is in York and wishes to know just precisely when our wedding will be so that, if time permits, he may attend.” When Jordan looked surprised, he went on. “I have, therefore decided to push the wedding forward. We shall hold an engagement party in five days, followed two days later by the actual wedding. Can you be prepared for the wedding in a week?”

  Now he asks, Jordan thought dryly. “Of course, my lord,” she said. “My dress is ready now.”

  “Good lass.” The earl stood and looked at her, his expression softening just a bit. “I know a great deal happened in such a short time, especially in lieu of your condition, and I am sorry. I hope it will not tax you overly.”

  “Nay, my lord,” she shook her head. “We Scots are a strong lot.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Very well,” he pointed a finger at William. “Remain with her and see to her needs, I will see you later.”

  “Aye, sire.” William followed him from the room and closed the opened the door for him.

  *

  In the corridor outside of Lady Jordan’s chamber, pale blue eyes watched the earl as he left Jordan’s bedchamber and descended the stairs. The eyes narrowed; William had not come out. Because of that, it would be foolish to try anything with him standing guard over the Scottish slut.

  And then there was the problem of the men standing guard outside of her chamber, men more loyal to W
illiam than to the family. It had been easy to slip the Welsh archer a necklace that belonged to Analiese to be Lady Jordan’s would-be assassin. The spoiled young woman wouldn’t miss the jewelry, anyway. She had enough of it.

  Even after the archer had been killed to keep him from talking and Lady Jordan had survived the attempt, the infection that followed nearly claimed her. But not quite.

  The blue eyes blinked thoughtfully. The whore certainly had her hooks in dear, sweet William. Could the knight not see that? Was he so blinded by her beauty that he could not see what an abomination the woman was?

  No matter, though. The bitch would be done in one way or the other, before or after the wedding made no difference. Just so long as she was out of the way and William was free of her clutches.

  ’Twas the true problem it was. William was attracted to her. That realization fueled a rage of jealousy that would not be banked. With that jealousy he was willing to do almost anything.

  The blue eyes smiled. There would be another time, another chance, and another window to slip in and destroy her. True, no one would ever suspect who the culprit was, and with a little luck the blame would fall completely on Analiese.

  *

  Jordan was dressed in a soft pink linen surcoat and shift that brought some color to her pale cheeks. Cradled in William’s arms as he carried her across the bailey, he was astonished at the number of people that stopped to wish her good health or tell her that they had paid the priest to pray for her. Even the tanner had left his shed to rush over to her, two half-finished boots clutched in his hand to show her.

  Jemma, Kieran and Michael were accompanying them to the small lake beyond the outer wall. Jordan had insisted that that was where she wanted to go, so with very little resistance, William complied. Kieran carried a basket full of food and Jemma had brought a large blanket to spread. Jordan wished that it would have been her and William alone, but was nonetheless happy for the company.

  She held onto William’s neck, careful not to pass him any meaningful glances, but now and again her fingers would stroke the back of his neck and he would respond with a slight squeeze. With the sun bright above her and the air light, not sticky as it could be, she was deliriously happy.

  As the small group moved through the outer bailey, Jordan noticed a group of children rushing toward them. She smiled, recognizing little Mary Alys at the head of the group but wondering what they were doing so far from the kitchens. The children knew they were not allowed near the front gates. She also knew that William was bound to see them and hoped he would not be too harsh.

  The children drew closer. Mary Alys, beaming a missing-tooth smile, walked boldly up to William and he nearly ran her down. He glared down at her and opened his mouth, but Jordan put her fingers to his lips to stop him.

  “Sir William, this is my friend, Mary Alys,” she said quickly. “Hello, Mary Alys. What do ye have in the basket?”

  “I brought you a prethent,” she announced with her delightful little lisp.

  “A present?” Jordan slipped from William’s arms, though he kept a firm grip on her. Her legs were still like jelly. “Mary Alys, I am so touched that ye would think of me. What is it?”

  Mary Alys fumbled with the cloth covering the basket. “We heard you were thick,” she said with her heavy lisp. “I wanted to give you a prethent to make you feel better, but the tholdiers would not let me in the cathle.”

  Jordan cast a long look at Kieran and Michael before looking back down at the little girl. “Well, now, here I am,” she said. “What do ye have for me?”

  Mary Alys drew forth the treasure, a tiny ball of fluff. It mewed loudly and Jordan saw that it was a kitten. She laughed in delight, taking the animal from the child’s hand.

  “A kitten.” She was thrilled, cuddling the cat to her cheek happily. “Oh, Mary Alys, what a wonderful gift. I do feel much better, thanks to ye.”

  The little girl’s face threatened to split in two with the width of her smile. “You were nice to us, lady. You are the nicest prettiest lady we have ever had here.”

  An older boy tugged at Mary Alys’ arm, pulling her away. Jordan smiled and patted the child on the head. “Thank ye so much, Mary Alys,” she said. “I shall take good care of my kitten.”

  The children dashed away, leaving Jordan and Jemma cooing over the tiny creature. The knights were smiling openly as well, appearances be damned. Hell, there had been so little to smile over lately.

  “I take it you intend to keep this hairy rat?” William demanded with feigned sternness.

  Jordan cradled the little animal to her neck. “Of course I do, English,” she made little kissing noises to the kitten. “Isna he wonderful?”

  “Hmm,” he pursed his lips. “Very well, then. Come and let us take the rat with us to the lake.”

  “M-mayhap we shall see if he can swim,” Michael said thoughtfully.

  Jordan and Jemma cried foul, making the knights laugh.

  “Ye’ll not touch my kitten, Michael de Bocage,” Jordan insisted. “Or I shall ask Sir William, my protector, to soundly thrash you.”

  “He can try,” Michael mumbled for Kieran’s amusement.

  William heard the comment as he lifted Jordan into his arms again. “For that, man, you may choose your weapon. We duel come the dusk.”

  “Then I choose the cat,” Michael said. “I shall get it wet then throw it on you.”

  William shook his head, fighting off a grin. He was amazed at how much lighter moods had become since Jordan had recovered. It was as if everything was right in the world once again.

  Jordan was cuddling the kitten happily and he glanced down at the thing. It was purring madly in her hands, vibrating against his breastplate.

  “How does it do that?” he wondered aloud.

  As Jordan grinned at him, a shout from the parapets interrupted them.

  “William.” It was Paris, high on the wall above them.

  The group slowed long enough for William to yell back at him. “Aye?”

  Paris beckoned to his captain. “Give the mistress to Michael. I need you a moment.”

  With a curse only Jordan heard, he passed her to Michael and bade them continue. He would join them shortly.

  Up on the wall, Paris met William and motioned for him to follow. William followed Paris to the northwest corner of the outer wall where several soldiers were already standing, straining their eyes to see in the distance. William, too, became lost in the focus, watching the horizon for several minutes.

  “Incoming riders,” he said to Paris. “They are flying a banner but I cannot see it as of yet.”

  Several minutes passed as the tiny dots grew into three riders, two of them flying banners. When the banner colors became clear, William turned to Paris.

  “Harringham,” he said. “The men are in armor and the banner is warped.”

  Paris nodded, his thoughts the same as William’s. “There must be trouble.”

  William simply nodded, shouting orders to the soldiers on the outer wall, calling orders over to Ranulf on the inner wall, who in turn got his men moving.

  William descended the turret stairs, pausing only long enough in a small room that he and Paris used as their private armory to don strategic portions of his armor. Luke, ever near the armory, was there and assisted the two knights with the heavy pieces. As the lad latched on the greaves, or shin armor, William turned to Paris.

  “Get the men assembled,” he told him. “If Harringham is sending for assistance, then there is no telling what has happened.”

  Paris snorted in agreement, slapping the latch where his breastplate met a portion of the backplate. “Hell, The Lyceum holds as many soldiers as we do,” he said. “Do you suppose that old Earl Coe became bold and tried to attack him again? Foolish, considering Harringham is an avid military fanatic.”

  William restrapped his sword. “He calls Captain de Lara ‘Marc Antony’ and has driven the man to drink with it. The old fool believes himself to be Caesar.
”

  Paris smiled in agreement, although they both respected Lord Harringham’s military knowledge as well as Captain de Lara’s. They were strongly allied with Northwood and, between Northwood and the Lyceum, covered nearly fifteen miles of the border with Scotland.

  Scots, however, weren’t William’s concern. As Paris had mentioned, Lord Harringham was in a bitter feud for land rights with a neighboring earl named Coe. The earl had a sizable force and raided the serf villages of Harringham every chance he got, as well as launching full-scale attacks on The Lyceum itself. William was interested to know if Harringham had finally had enough of Earl Coe and was going to request Northwood’s assistance in ridding him of the man once and for all.

  By the time William reached the outer bailey, the riders were being hailed entrance. Upon closer inspection, William was distressed to see that the men were beaten and disheveled. He approached the lead rider, the one with the tattered banner, and gripped the reins of the horse.

  “What goes on?” he demanded.

  The man saluted William wearily. “Captain de Wolfe,” he was out of breath. Lord Harringham requests your forces. The Lyceum has been attacked, sir. Captain de Lara was killed in the first wave.”

  A hush settled over the soldiers of Northwood. William’s face was impassive as always.

  “Who attacked you?” he asked calmly.

  The man let out a sigh of pure frustration. “Scots, my lord. Hundreds of ’em. It started right after sunup. They were wearing their hunting plaid so they blended in with the forest. ’Twas difficult to see them sneaking up in the dark.”

  William heard a female voice, two of them, coming in through the outer gates directly behind The Lyceum’s soldiers. Kieran and Michael were bringing Jordan and Jemma back into the keep, having seen the riders enter themselves. Both women were protesting loudly and it did not take a trained linguist to pick out their heavy Scottish accents.

  The soldiers from The Lyceum instinctively stiffened, drawing their swords and jerking their mounts around to face the incoming Scots. William reached up and dismounted the soldier he had been talking to as easily as if the man were no more than clothes stuffed with sawdust.