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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I will not leave,” he said firmly, although he was undecided as to whether or not he truly wanted to. Every time Jordan had a contraction he felt as if he were having one, too. “My wife needs me.”

  “Your wife will do just fine without you,” Analiese said stubbornly. “Get out of here and let us work.”

  He looked over Analiese’s head and sought out his wife. “Jordan, love, do you wish me to leave?”

  Jordan was quickly falling into the world of agony, where the only thing that mattered was making from one wave to the next without screaming her head off. Byron was in the process of helping her sit up to drink an ergot potion for the pain when another contraction hit her and she yelped aloud before gritting her teeth against it.

  “I dunna care what ye do,” she grunted.

  He looked uncertain, preparing to reason with her when Analiese put her hand on him. “If I were you, I would go unless you are prepared to take on a barrage of insults,” she told him with a faint smile. “Women in childbirth often do and say strange things, I have been told. Go out and wait with Kieran and Deinwald. I will let you know when your son arrives.”

  He almost argued with her but thought better of it. He was having difficulty seeing his wife in so much pain, wanting so much to stop it but being entirely helpless against it. It would get worse, he knew, and drive him mad with his impotency. He would do her no good in that state. Sighing with great reluctance, he complied.

  Two of the knights’ wives were at the door when he opened it, respectfully explaining that their husbands had requested they help attend the champion’s wife. William wasn’t about to let anyone he didn’t know into the room, but he knew their husbands and they were good men. With a wave of his hand, he ushered them in.

  Kieran and Deinwald, as well as several other knights he had come to know over months of battle service were in the hall, all looking as if it were their wife who was expecting. When William came from the room, a company of faces turned to him eagerly.

  “No baby yet,” he told them. He meandered over to where Kieran was standing and leaned heavily against the wall.

  “She will be fine,” Kieran said calmly.

  William looked at him. “How can you be so composed when at this very minute your wife may be going through the same thing and you are not there to comfort her?”

  Kieran smiled. He had always been the most collected of his knights, and certainly one of the wisest. The man lent new meaning to the term ‘gentle giant’.

  “Jemma would be using me as her punching bag, so mayhap it is best I am not there when she gives birth,” he quipped. “However, in all seriousness, I believe that I shall leave on the morrow if you will not be needing me, and make way back to Northwood.”

  “Good,” William said thankfully. “I am glad you have finally come to your senses. Jordan will be thrilled.”

  The two men rested against the wall, joined by Deinwald. Silently, they pondered their thoughts, each to his own, waiting as patiently as they could muster as a new life was brought into the world.

  For as peaceful as it was in the hall, Jordan was in a living hell. Unbelievable pain and pressure were doubling her over, and the instinct to push was like nothing she had ever experienced. Byron was bent over between her legs; his old face was serious, while Analiese stood over his shoulder looking rather pale. Jordan would find out later that it was the first birth she had ever attended.

  “Push, my lady,” Byron’s voice never rose above a normal speaking tone. “With your next pain I want you to bear down as hard as you can.”

  Jordan tried, but God’s honest truth, she was exhausted. The pains had come so fast and so furiously that they had nearly overwhelmed her and sapped all of her strength. She had only been in labor a mere six hours but it seemed like six days.

  Another pain came, tightening across her mid-section.

  “Push!” Byron told her.

  “I am!” she yelled back as if she were barking orders on the field of battle. Analiese looked startled that such a delicate lady could use such a tone, but Byron didn’t blink. He was too busy watching the baby’s head crown.

  Analiese saw it, too. She was overwhelmed with excitement.

  “Jordan, I see it!” she blurted happily.

  Jordan flopped back onto her pillows in misery. She was about to yell a nasty retort when another pain seized her and she doubled up again, instinctively pushing as hard as she could.

  Analiese left her post and went to assist her, sitting behind her on the bed to better support her efforts. Jordan was sweating profusely, her long hair clinging to her wet face. At Byron’s instruction, Analiese put her hands on Jordan’s stomach to aid her in her pushing when the next contraction came.

  Jordan pushed and pushed. A half hour later she was still pushing. Analiese was beginning to worry, but Jordan was so oblivious to anything but the pain that she had lost track of time. The knights’ wives, having birthed five children between them, hovered behind Byron and looked quite composed, waiting to be called into service. When Analiese looked into their older faces, she felt somewhat better because she deduced if anything was wrong, the women would be reacting.

  Byron was doing something neither Jordan or Analiese could see, but that Jordan could certainly feel. He felt as if he was trying to pull the baby free himself and she screamed at him to leave her alone. After a few moments of twisting and tugging, a faint smile finally cracked his face.

  “Okay, ladies,” he said softly. “Push harder than you ever have with the next pain and this babe should break free.”

  The pain came. Jordan grunted with the force of her pushing while Analiese bore down with her, all of her queasiness forgotten with the immanency of the moment. Surely as Byron had predicted, the infant slipped free and into Byron’s waiting hands.

  A thin wail filled the stale air almost immediately. Analiese hugged Jordan, who was panting heavily but still managed to smile.

  “Byron.” she gasped. “Is it…is he…?”

  Byron looked up at her, grinning. “Your son is fine and as big as an ox.”

  A son. Jordan began to cry and laugh at the same time as Analiese embraced her, both women emotional and relieved. But as Byron was handing the infant to one of the waiting women, Jordan was seized with another pain as fierce as the previous one that propelled her son into the world and she cried out loudly in agony and surprise.

  Analiese stopped her laughing and was panic-stricken. “Byron! What is wrong?”

  Byron, however, remained entirely calm. “Relax, Lady Analiese,” he said. “It is usually customary for the pain to subside after the baby has been born.”

  “But the baby has been born,” Analiese reminded him as if he were completely daft.

  His black eyes twinkled. “Not this baby.”

  Analiese looked at him for a moment before the truth settled in. “Twins?”

  Jordan moaned, twisting a little trying to ease her aching tailbone and body. “Aye, twins. Miserable little whelps. They are making me daft.”

  “How long have you known this?” Analiese asked, shocked.

  “Not long,” Jordan whispered, again gripped by the torrential forces of childbirth.

  Her second son was born exactly ten minutes after the first, a little smaller, but quite lusty and pink.

  While Analiese and the two other women cleaned and cooed to the screaming infants, Byron finished cleaning Jordan and gave her a few stitches where she tore. She was so exhausted that she could do nothing more than lie in her damp clothes and doze, but she could hear her sons crying and it was the sweetest music she had ever heard.

  When Byron was sure Jordan was taken well care of, he moved to the door to give the news to the father. He could not keep the smile off his face. Lord only knew, he hadn’t smiled in years.

  When he opened the door, William was standing in the doorjamb, arms braced on either side of the arch. He was leaning into his arms as if imagining them to be the door, pushing so hard t
o get in to see his wife that his hands were white.

  His head came up from where he had been staring at the floor, the hazel-gold orb fixing on the tiny bald man. His face was emotionless but Byron knew he was wild with worry.

  “Relax, Baron,” Byron said quietly. “Your wife is fine. As are your sons.”

  William blinked. Then an expression of utter amazement crossed his face. “Sons?”

  The old man nodded. “Two of the healthiest boys I have ever seen fit to deliver. Congratulations, my lord.”

  Kieran and Deinwald, directly behind him, began to guffaw with laughter, which was picked up by the other men. William heard them but was unable to join in; he was dazed to the core.

  “Twins?” he repeated in awe.

  Byron stepped back. “Go in and see them.”

  William woodenly stepped into the room as Byron slammed the door in the faces of the eager knights. With a push from the little physician, he entered the bedchamber and stepped to the edge of the bed, his attention divided between the two babes being bathed over on the table, and at his wife’s sleeping form.

  He could hear the babes, yelling their little lungs out, and knew they were fine. Jordan, however, scared the hell out of him; she was as pale as a ghost.

  “Are you sure she is well?” he whispered to Byron.

  “Aye, she is,” he replied. “She is merely exhausted. Your sons were quite large.”

  He let out a ragged sigh, moving to sit on the bed but not wanting to wake her, so he moved into the nearest chair. He had to sit down or he would fall down, so great his surprise and relief. His gaze never left his wife.

  “Here, William,” Analiese said softly. “Would you like to hold your son?”

  He tore his gaze away from Jordan’s face to look at the woman standing next to him with the bundle in her arms. Analiese smiled, coaching him as one does a new father as he reached up and took the baby into his arms. His touch was sure yet gentle, not at all timid, as if he had done it a hundred times before.

  “This is your firstborn,” she said, stepping away.

  He gazed down into the tiny red face, marveling at the perfection he saw. Tiny tuffs of blond hair peeked out from beneath the swaddling blanket and tiny, angry fists waved at him. With all of the swirling emotions he was feeling at that very moment, his first reaction was to laugh.

  “Why are you so angry?” he whispered to his son. “You are shaking your fists at me already.”

  He continued to chuckle at the infant, examining the fingers and toes that escaped from the swaddling. The babe was quieting somewhat when Analiese brought over the other boy.

  “Here,” she said. “Hold your second born so that he will feel no favoritism.”

  William took the other babe eagerly, both children nestled quite comfortably in his arms. He looked at his second son, noticing the much darker hair and skin tone. This child would look like him.

  “Well, little pup,” he said to him. “You do not look much like your brother, do you?”

  The babe’s response was to wail loudly. Hearing his brother scream, the other child resumed his yelling as if to out-do him. It was so comical that William laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. Unnoticed to him, Byron and the ladies had slipped from the room to allow him privacy with his family.

  With the babies screaming, he stood from the chair and began to pace, speaking softly to them of the history of their parent’s relationship. His tone was so soothing and honeyed that it was no time before the infants quieted and went to sleep. But he continued to walk with them, staring at them as if he were afraid they were going to disappear.

  He was amazed and elated and could imagine no greater joy than this. Silently, he thanked God for the blessings he had seen fit to bestow upon him. How could one man be so very fortunate, he wondered dreamily.

  Jordan was still asleep when Analiese came in to take the babies and put them to bed in the adjoining room. She had a wet nurse ready to feed them when they woke, allowing Jordan time to recover. William was grateful for her foresight.

  It was nearly the noon hour but William felt as if he had been up for days. He went back over to the bed where his wife lay, watching her as she slept. He noticed there was a bit of color back in her cheeks and reached out to touch her face ever so gently. God, how he loved her.

  He slumped against the wall on her side of the bed, sliding down until his bottom hit the floor. He sat there, one knee raised and elbow resting on it, watching his wife’s sleeping face, never more content in his entire life.

  She awoke, once, later on that afternoon to find him gazing at her. With a faint smile, she closed her eyes again and drifted off for the rest of the night.

  *

  The next morning, Jordan awoke absolutely ravenous. Cradling one son while William held the other, she wolfed down a huge portion of gruel as well as a large chunk of bread, talking the whole time with her mouth full. He watched her with a great deal of amusement, listening to her prattle on about the babies, Northwood and Questing. She insisted on seeing Kieran before he left so that he could pass a message on to Jemma for her.

  He found it hard to believe she had just birthed two children the day before with the boundless energy she was exhibiting. He knew he was going to have trouble when she demanded to be released from bed.

  Kieran entered the room, dressed in his armor, ready for travel. He spoke to both babies as if they would understand exactly what he was telling them, informing them that by one year of age he expected them to be in the saddle, swinging a broadsword.

  Jordan argued vigorously with him, advising him that her sons would be scholars and not warriors, a statement William raised an eyebrow to. She merely smiled sweetly in return.

  They spoke between them pleasantly for several minutes. Jordan reminded Kieran exactly what he should say to Jemma and extracted a promise that he would send them a missive regarding the child when it was born. William could see Kieran was eager to get on his way and told Jordan to be quiet and let the man leave.

  Kieran was headed for the door when Deinwald burst in, his eyes wide.

  “William, we’ve just received word from Northwo….” He stopped when he saw Kieran standing there.

  William saw Deinwald’s hesitation and was immediately alerted to the fact that something must be terribly wrong. The way the man was looking at Kieran also told him that it must have something to do with Jemma.

  He could not simply kick Kieran out of the room. The man was going to Northwood this minute and would need to know anything of importance. Mentally bracing himself, William nodded at his knight.

  “Continue, Deinwald,” he said evenly. “What did the message say?”

  Deinwald looked helplessly at William. He didn’t want to tell him, not in front of Kieran, and certainly not in front of Jordan, but in his haste he had created the situation. He took a deep breath, his eyes going between William and Kieran. He could not even look at Jordan.

  “A messenger arrived a half hour ago,” he said quietly. “The Scots attacked Langton, forming a line to prevent any assistance from England. Alexander forbade Northwood troops to fight, as you knew he would, so Paris called upon Beverley, Hawkgrove, and Deauxville Mount. It took them over a week, but they broke the lines and separated the Scot forces. Only Langton was long gone.”

  He glanced over at Jordan; they all did. She was sitting with her son clutched to her chest, her eyes spilling over, but didn’t utter a sound. Deinwald, visibly upset at her reaction, continued nonetheless.

  “By this time, the English troops had suffered quite heavily and were discouraged to see that their fighting had been in vain,” he went on. “As they fell back, newly reinforced Scot armies chased them back into England. They got as far as Northwood. She is under siege as of three days ago.”

  William was rigid. He was acutely aware of the small baby he held, careful not to allow his reaction to reflect on the child. Moving to the adjoining door, he calmly called to the wet nurse to co
me and retrieve both children. The fat woman silently and swiftly complied.

  “Go on,” he told his knight after the woman left.

  “Henry is so mad he could spit nails,” Deinwald said. “He’s mad as hell at Alexander for dishonoring the treaty his father agreed to. He’s already ordered 1200 troops readied for you to lead back to Northwood. Additionally, he wants Alexander brought back to London.”

  “What in the hell for?” Kieran demanded.

  Deinwald shrugged. “I do not know. Mayhap to stand trial; he didn’t say. At any rate, he wants you ready to ride by this eve. He is in his private audience chambers now and asked that you come to him after I delivered the message.”

  William nodded faintly, his mind already working. He was thinking ahead to the ride, to the battle. “Did the messenger say what kind of shape Northwood is in? Has she been breached?”

  “Nay, my lord, the man didn’t say,” Deinwald replied. “He was fairly spent by the time he got here. He has been riding three full days and nights to reach us.”

  “Where is he?” William asked.

  “Resting in a room near the kitchens,” Deinwald said. “I thought you might want to interrogate him further.”

  William didn’t say anything; his face was grim. Deinwald took deep breath. “There is one more thing,” he looked at Kieran. Raising his hand, they saw that he clutched a small scroll and offered it timidly to Kieran.

  Kieran eyed Deinwald and took the missive from him. “What is this? It has been opened.”

  Deinwald cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I know. The messenger from Northwood carried it and Henry took it from him and read it, even though it was addressed to William.”

  Kieran frowned. “Then why are you giving it to me?”

  Deinwald looked as if he wished he were anywhere but in that room. “Because it is for you.”

  Kieran ignored Deinwald’s pale face and read the missive. He only read it once. Then it clattered to the floor.

  William was gravely concerned. Something terrible must have happened to Jemma and he was deeply troubled as to what his wife’s reaction would be, as well as Kieran’s. Morbid curiosity and necessity forced him to pick up the missive and read it.