“That may be, but I still appreciate a fine man.” She looked into Kieran’s surprised face. “What say you, sir knight? Would ye have married me had ye not met Jemma and had William never existed? Well?”
He actually blushed at her jest. But Jemma pushed herself closer to Kieran, putting her arms around his torso and scowling at her cousin.
“Leave him be,” she ordered. “He’s one man ye canna take away from me.”
Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. “I have never taken any man away from ye.”
Jemma lay her head on Kieran’s chest. “Mayhap not literally, but all the men look at ye and never me. Ye’re too pretty, Jordi, and I have told ye that. So leave Kieran alone; you have the captain.”
Jordan smiled faintly and shook her head, thinking her cousin’s statements ridiculous. “Ye’re so beautiful and ye dunna even realize it.”
“I realize it,” Kieran said softly.
Jordan gave the man a radiant smile, glad he was backing her up on the matter. Michael shook his head at the entire conversation.
“I hate to interrupt, m-my delectable stud stallion,” he said to Kieran drolly. “But we should be going. They will be expecting Lady Jordan.”
Kieran gave Jemma a final squeeze. “Aye, they will. We should be off.”
They all moved for the door, including Jemma, until Kieran stopped her. “Just Jordan, sweetheart.”
She stuck out her lip. “But canna I even go and watch from the shadows? Please?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Nay, I am sorry. ’Twould be the king and queen you would be spying on.”
“I wouldna be spying,” she insisted. “Oh, please, let me come and watch.”
“Not now, Jemma,” Jordan told her cousin. “Ye’ll see them tonight at the feast.”
Jemma eyed both her cousin and Kieran before sulking over to the high back chair and plopping her small body on it. She didn’t say a word and Kieran was afraid he had mightily upset her.
“Tonight, Jemma. All right?” he said, trying to pacify her.
She lifted her chin and looked away from him, pouting. He started to go to her but Jordan put out her hand.
“Leave her be, Kieran,” she said softly, then looked over at her cousin and raised her voice. “Acting like a bairn, she is. ’Tis not unusual.”
Jemma glared at them both again before turning back around and curling up into a ball on the chair. Her hijinks were making Jordan forget her own nerves as Michael opened the door and she was escorted out by the two handsome knights.
Jordan’s nerves announced themselves loud and clear the very moment she set foot into the grand hall. There were more soldiers and courtiers than she could count, all distant and unfamiliar in her grand hall. She would have felt as if she were in a completely different place had it not been for the Northwood soldiers lining the hall in full regalia and the sentries stationed in the gallery above.
The meal was an informal one, meant to simply refresh after the journey and tide the guests over until the large feast later on that evening. Kieran and Michael escorted Jordan through the white-faced women and haughty men who made up the king’s caravan. She looked the people in the eye, silently daring them to say one bloody negative word to her. But even though she was putting up a brave front, inside she was feeling exceptionally uncomfortable.
As they approached the dais, her eyes immediately fell on her husband seated, no less, at the king’s hand. Even de Longley was on the other side of William, one seat down from the king. Puzzled, Jordan tried to keep her eyes downcast until she was spoken to.
Henry and Eleanor eyed the Scot woman with interest. She was extremely beautiful, and that came of somewhat of a surprise. Henry found his curiosity whetted; usually when the woman was as beautiful as all that, she was as stupid as a door. He continued to observe her for several long moments before speaking.
“Your full name,” he asked.
Jordan’s head snapped up. “The Lady Jordan Mary Joseph Scott, daughter of Earl Thomas Scott of clan Scott, sire.”
Henry nodded. Jordan openly observed the man, noting that one eyelid drooped profusely and gave him an almost dense appearance. He was homely-looking, she thought.
“We are pleased with your comeliness,” he finally said. “And we are also pleased that a mighty alliance will be forged come the morrow. I, in fact, sent an invitation to your king, Alexander, but he was unable to attend due to illness. A pity.”
“Aye, sire,” Jordan agreed quietly.
The king stared at her a few more moments. William, at the man’s left hand, watched his wife impassively. God, she looked lovely, but she was nervous as hell. He didn’t blame her in the least.
Henry leaned around William to look at the earl. “Fill her full of worthy English sons, John. She is of fine stock.”
Jordan heard the words, outraged that she was considered no more than a brood mare. But she held her tongue and her downcast expression, praying the man would dismiss her.
“Indeed,” Eleanor spoke up and Jordan became nervous anew. “She is lovely. ’Tis amazing to find one so lovely and untouched. How old are you, child?”
Jordan looked at the queen, a thick-featured plain woman. It was said that she was an extravagant woman, much to her husband’s disapproval. Jordan could believe that rumor purely from the jewels she wore.
“Twenty years, your highness,” she replied.
“Twenty years.” Eleanor repeated. “You are practically an old maid. Tell me; were you not betrothed to anyone at home? Why have you not been married already?”
Jordan blinked. “I…I was betrothed at one time, my lady,” she said. Not even William knew this particular detail of her life and she spoke haltingly, knowing he was listening. “When I was a bairn I was betrothed to the son of the clan chief Galloway. But my betrothed was killed in a battle with the English when he was seventeen.”
“And your father did not immediately make another betrothal?” Eleanor pressed.
Jordan felt sick. Why didn’t she simply drop the subject? “Nay, my lady. My Da was rather particular about his only daughter. He felt no one worthy for me.”
“The earl is worthy, however.” Henry was now back in the conversation, and wanted to know if Laird Scott was snobbish in general, and not merely with his fellow Scots.
“Aye, sire, the earl is worthy,” Jordan replied quickly. “My Da was pleased for the opportunity of peace.”
Satisfied with the answer, Henry turned his attention away from her and she assumed she was dismissed. But Eleanor, however, had other intentions.
“Come here,” she motioned to Jordan.
Jordan immediately went to her, curtsying. Eleanor flicked her wrist in the general direction of a dozen women to her right.
“The earl has requested one of my women to guide you through your new station in life,” she said. “I have selected a young woman who I believe will be quite to accomplish this task. Aloria?”
A tall blond woman separated herself from the pack and stepped forward. Jordan’s eyes widened a bit; she was nearly as tall as the knights, with long, straight hair and a prettier-than-average face. But, Sweet Jesu,’ she was big-boned. Jordan had a horrible feeling that one wrong move or word and this woman could seriously disable her. She looked as if she could take on some of the men at Northwood and win.
“This is Lady Aloria de Gare,” Eleanor said. “She will serve you quite capably.”
Aloria moved around the table and came to stand slightly behind Jordan. Eleanor, with a final glance of approval, turned her attention away and Jordan knew she was dismissed.
She was expected to stay and eat with the king and queen. Yet she was so nervous and sick that she knew if she tried to eat a bite, it would all come back up again. However, she allowed a steward to show her to a seat on the dais next to Analiese and she slouched in her chair, trying to hide behind her friend.
“Where is that monstrous creature?” she whispered to Analiese.
Anal
iese gazed inconspicuously over her left shoulder. “About ten feet behind you, as she should be. She is a big one.”
Jordan gave Analiese’s arm a squeeze as a servant filled her trencher with mutton and spiced new apples. “God help me,” she murmured as she tried to eat.
As worried as she was about Lady Aloria, her biggest concern was her husband. She could not even look at William. She felt as if she had fibbed to him somehow, when honestly, she never thought to tell him that she had been betrothed as an infant. To be truthful, the subject had never crossed her mind to tell him, but this was not an ideal circumstance for him to find out. She knew he would be furious with her and she didn’t blame him. She simply wanted to get this meal over with and retreat to her chambers.
Her wish came shortly. The king and queen were tired and wished to rest before the festivities began, graciously dismissing their vassals as the earl and Alexander led them from the hall. Amazingly, William wasn’t required by the king, and when Jordan realized that, she was panicked enough to return to their chambers to escape his wrath.
A servant led Aloria away, and Analiese had vanished; leaving Jordan walking alone as quickly as she could from the hall without running.
She wasn’t fast enough. William caught up with her just outside the hall and without a word, grasped her arm and led her down a corridor and into a small solar. He waited until he closed the door softly before even looking at her.
She tried to read his expression, but she could not. He looked as controlled and neutral as always and she was scared to death.
“You look lovely,” he said after a moment.
“Thank ye,” she replied. “I couldna decide what to wear and I am glad ye like it.”
He nodded faintly. “Indeed,” he said, pacing a few feet across the floor. “That was quite a revelation you dropped before the king. Not even I was aware of it, and I thought I knew nearly everything about you. You are, after all, my wife. Why is it that I never knew you were betrothed to another man?”
Jordan swallowed. “I never thought to tell ye, English. It was never of any importance to me.”
He looked at her and she saw his gaze hardened. “It is of great importance to me. Who is this man that would have married you?”
“I was betrothed to him when I was three years old,” she said quietly, calmly, hoping he would understand. “His name was Ian McCulloch and his father was Laird Galloway. I only met him four times in my entire life; the last being one week before he was killed by the English near Melrose. That’s all there is to it; I never knew him, nor loved him. I only love ye.”
William was silent a moment. “The last time you saw him…how old were you?”
“Sixteen,” she answered.
“And you felt nothing for him?”
Her eyes narrowed with puzzlement. “Nay, English, I told ye that I dunna even know if I liked him at all because he was a big brute with an arrogant disposition.”
William leaned his large frame against the wall, crossing his arms. His movements were slow, and thoughtful. His anger was abating with her straightforward answers, although he was still perturbed that she had never mentioned this ‘little’ detail. If he were honest with himself, he realized that he wasn’t angry as much as he was insanely jealous.
“Very well,” he said. “Then tell me this, wife, is there anything else you wish to tell me that you feel ‘unimportant,’ yet that I might find out otherwise?”
She was glad he wasn’t too angry, but she was annoyed that he was insinuating that she was keeping secrets. She pursed her lips wryly. “Oh, let me see,” she said with exaggeratedly and thoughtfully. “Have I told ye that I was once the kept woman of King Alexander and bore him twelve bastards? Or, better yet, have I told ye that I have kissed every man south of Edinburgh and there isna one of them who dunna live for the sound of my voice? And I intend to conquer England the same way.”
She was rewarded with a faint twitch of his lips and he pushed himself off the wall, moving to within an inch of her. With a soft, seductive gaze that took her breath away, he spoke. “You have already conquered me.”
She smiled and threw her arms around his neck, her lips latching onto his. She did not have to wait to feel his muscular arms around her, or his lips responding to her. She laughed softly with triumph.
“What does the king want of ye, English?” she breathed as his lips paid exquisite attention to her soft neck.
“The man is acting like a smitten boy,” he replied, his breath hot on her skin. “It would seem that he has become most impressed with my reputation and demands war stories from me.”
She was melting to him, forgetting about the king and the queen and her nerves. He was making her tingle with passion and desire and she knew she had to have him now, here, at this moment.
Her hands moved to the latches on his armor. “Take this damnable stuff off,” she demanded huskily.
“I cannot,” he insisted, yet still suckling on her skin. “I am required in the outer bailey.”
Undaunted, she unfastened a latch. “I require ye now, English, and I am more important.”
She expected an argument, but instead he began to unfasten his armor himself. In no time it was off, except for his greaves. Jordan’s passion was building with every breath. They were so consumed with each other that nothing else in the world mattered at this very moment but their need for one another.
The need was more powerful than the law, protocol, or the very monarchy that resided within the walls. They had been denied their wedding night, they would have their night now.
William picked his wife up and carried her over to an overstuffed silk couch near the windows. He practically threw her down, pushing her skirts up while she fumbled with the stays on his breeches. When his huge organ was freed, red and throbbing, she massaged and caressed it, loving the smooth feel of him. He moaned, his tongue licking her pink mouth and tangling with her own tongue.
She was slick and hot when he pushed deep into her, filling her with the proof of his desire. Her legs hung over the sides of the couch as his rhythm took flight and they began to move together with such force that the legs of the furniture thumped methodically.
Jordan’s legs wrapped around his buttocks as if she could pull him deeper and deeper inside. His arms were braced on either side of her and she clung to his neck, holding him as he drove deep, deep, into her. The friction was building in her loins, a hot pressure increasing with every thrust until she finally felt the release she sought in warm, delicious convulsions of pleasures.
William, feeling her tighten and throb around him, lost himself in her with a scalding eruption. He could not have controlled it any longer even if he wanted to.
He put his legs down on either side of the couch and pulled her up to sit on his thighs, his arousal still joining their bodies. She cuddled against him, her hands inside his tunic and caressing his skin with blissful satisfaction. His chin was resting on the top of her head and he was in utter heaven simply to feel her, all of her, against him.
“If you had married this Galloway, I would have never met you,” he thought aloud, frightening himself.
She looked up at him, her hands still in his tunic. “Aye, ye would have. My Da was specific when he told Laird Galloway that I wunna be allowed to marry his son until I was twenty-one; I think because Da could not bear to part with me. I met ye on the battlefield when I was but twenty.”
He remembered the meeting better than anything else in his entire life. “I remember you said you weren’t married,” he sighed. “My God, do you mean to say that if Galloway hadn’t died and if I had waited a nominal amount of time to return to Scotland to thank you for your kindness, then your marital status would have been changed in that space?” he kissed the top of her head. “Lord, I would have run myself through for my stupidity and the damn luck.”
She grinned. “Ye wouldna been able to marry me, anyway, English.”
“You think not?” he said. “Had your fathe
r not consented, I would have simply kidnapped you.”
“Ye would have?” she looked up at him. “But…but I thought ye said ye would return to thank me for my kindness, not ask for my hand.”
He cocked his eyebrow. “Marrying you would have been your reward.”
Her mouth opened at his arrogance. “And what if I dinna want yer thanks? Lord, yer a conceited man.”
He smiled provocatively again. “You would have refused?”
She looked away coyly. “Mayhap. After all, ye’re a Sassenach.”
His hands found then way underneath the dress and he began to caress her soft bottom. It was no time before he was once again rock-hard within her and she began ride him up and down. It was a sweet, erotic position and she found that if she stood tall on her knees and then plunged back down again, she could make him groan most wonderfully.
He came first this time, holding her hips down on his member as he erupted into her. When she felt his pulsations, her pleasure was almost instantaneous.
Limp with bliss, they clung to each other for long, contented minutes. Jordan had no idea when she would next see him and savored every moment, as did he. Therefore, they savored the moment.
Unfortunately, William truly had pressing duties. He felt guilty making love to his wife twice and then bolting up, but he had little choice. She understood, of course, or at least insisted she did and in a few minutes they were going their separate ways.
Deinwald escorted Jordan back to her chambers at William’s request. She was a bit apprehensive because she knew Aloria would be waiting for her and she was, frankly, afraid of the woman. She was simply as big as a man and from what else she noticed, she was attractive and probably a bit older than herself. She wondered apprehensively what sort of temperament the woman possessed.
She found Aloria in the antechamber waiting tall and silent. Jordan entered the room and Deinwald followed, his blue eyes glaring hostilely at the queen’s lady. Aloria curtsied to Jordan and eyed Deinwald.
“My lady, ’tis an honor to serve you,” she said. “As I am to understand it, I will have the privilege of guiding you through your new station.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 85