William had told her from the onset that he had been forbidden to touch her and she had been devastated, yet it had been a learning experience for both of them. They discovered that they could derive almost as much pleasure from simply holding one another as they could from the sexual act, although at times it had been a definite test of willpower and on several occasions William found himself pacing the halls after his wife had gone to sleep. He was afraid if he returned to then bed, all of his control would leave him.
He was also well aware that at times like these, men often turned to other women for release. But his desire was not for the pleasure obtained as the result of the act, but simply for the feel of his wife. To seek out another woman was not even an option for him. His wife never brought the subject up and he attributed it to her trust in him.
But just as their firstborn children turned a year old in March, so was their third child expected. ’Twas a cold night on the first of April when Jordan first felt the pangs of labor begin.
As with the twins, she waited over an hour before rousing her husband, thinking that indeed it would be some time before this babe made an appearance. However, as also with the twins, the pains quickly grew intense and it was no time at all before her membranes ruptured, soaking her and the bedclothes.
After a particularly hard pain, she nudged her husband. “English?”
He drew in a deep breath and opened his eye, rolling toward her. “What is…?” he had instinctively reached out to touch her and drew his hand back in alarm. “Good God! You are all wet!”
She smiled faintly as he bolted from the bed and pulled his breeches on hastily, not bothering to sit when he pulled his boots on. He was seized with urgency, for he knew the twins had come quickly and he had no desire to deliver his own child.
His wife suddenly cried out with the force of her next pain and her knees came up. He looked stricken. “I shall go get the wet nurse to keep you….”
She cut him off with a loud grunt. “Nay! Dunna leave me!”
He fell to his knees beside the bed. “Jordan, I must go get Byron.”
Another terribly hard contraction seized her and she groaned and grunted loudly, scaring him out of his wits. “Ye canna! There’s no time.”
William knew he went pale. He tore off the bedclothes and yanked her shift up, revealing the blood stained bedclothes. Her belly was as hard as stone and he could literally see the contractions bringing her stomach to a rigid peak.
“God, Jordan, how long have you been having these pains?” he demanded, trying to keep his wits about him.
“An hour or longer, I dunna know,” she whispered, licking her dry lips.
His brows drew together. “An hour or so? Lord, Jordan, you should have told me….”
She broke him off with another strangled cry and he saw her whole body straining to bring forth the babe within her. She was right; he could not leave her. But it did not prevent him from opening the bedchamber door and bellowing to the wet nurse to send for Byron.
Jordan was panting with her effort, sweat already soaking her. Keep your wits, man, he silently scolded himself. You know what to do, you have done it before. Water, clean linen, a sharp dagger, twine,…. Jordan cried out again and his knees went to water. Aye, he’d done it before…but not on his own wife.
But he was all she had at the moment, so he prepared himself. Sitting on the bed, he pushed his wife’s shaking legs apart and put his fingers into her, feeling the baby’s head almost immediately. Speaking softly to her, he went over to the water basin and dipped a cloth in it, returning to swab her clammy brow. Her eyes were closed, but opened when she felt him.
To his surprise, she smiled. “Sorry to do this to ye, English.”
He smiled back. “Nay, you are not. You have planned this all along, you little vixen.”
She started to chuckle but it was cut off by another contraction that nearly brought her off the bed. He held on to her, nearly feeling the pain himself, whispering softly into her ear as it subsided.
Back on the bed, Jordan licked her lips again. “Oh, English, I am so thirsty,” she whispered. “Can I have some water?”
“Nay, love,” he was never more sorry to deny her. “It could make you ill.”
She opened an eye to look at him. “How would ye know that?”
He shrugged, swabbing her arms with cool water. “I know a little about birthing babes,” he admitted. “I have had to do it twice before.”
“Ye have?” it was as much emotion, other than pain, that she had yet to show. “Who? When?”
“Peasant babies, love,” he kissed her forehead. “Nothing important.”
“Every babe is important,” she admonished him. “Then ye are well-versed in this. I feel better knowing that.” Her last words trailed off into a hard, grunting cry.
The bedchamber door flew open and Paris stood in the doorway. His face was etched with intense concern.
“I was in the hall and the wet nurse told me,” he said as he flew into the room, passing a trained eye over Jordan. William had only done this twice. Paris had done it a dozen times. At one time he had considered becoming a physic. “Move away, William.”
“Nay,” William said flatly, meeting his wife’s gaze. “I will bring my daughter into the world.”
Paris had no time for arguing. “I am more experienced. Move aside.”
William shot him a glare. “I will not. You may help, if you wish, but I will….”
Jordan screamed, bringing up her knees and grunting with the effort of pushing. “It’s coming! I can feel it!”
The men’s heads snapped to her, with Paris moving around to see better as William pushed her legs apart a bit more.
“I see it, love,” he was suddenly joyful, gleeful. To actually see the babe quelled most of his fears and returned him to the confident man he was. “She is almost here, Jordan. Push with your next pain, as hard as you can.”
Paris moved away, going to make sure he had water and some kind of clean swaddling ready, finding a dagger to sever the cord.
The next pain was immediately after the previous one and Jordan bore down, biting her lip so hard that she drew blood. William rubbed her shaking thighs and hips, constantly amazed she was able to bear this kind of pain so well. If he could have taken it upon himself, he would have.
“It’s a son!” she panted as the pain subsided a bit.
He grinned, watching the baby’s head crown. “A daughter.”
The next pain came and she pushed, Paris helping her by sitting behind her and supporting her back. “A son!”
The baby’s head was through and William turned the child slightly, his breathing coming fast and excited. He was completely focused on his child, his wife.
“Hello, Catherine,” he murmured.
She pushed so hard with the next pain that the babe nearly came the entire length out and William laughed, knowing she was focusing her irritation on him into her efforts.
“Dunna call my son Catherine,” she snapped, breathing heavily. “Oh, English, this hurts. I dunna want to do this anymore.”
He smiled sympathetically, patting her thigh. “Almost done, love. Almost done.”
Paris shook his head, his gentle hand on Jordan’s forehead. “You two are a pair,” he said. “This woman is birthing a child and you continue to harass her.”
William opened his mouth to speak but another contraction came and Jordan cried out with the effort, one last time. She felt the great rush of relief as the child slipped free and into her husband’s waiting hands.
Panting and smiling, she tried to lift her head to see her babe. “Well?” she demanded breathlessly. “How is he?”
William was busy and Paris left Jordan to go and assist him. A couple of seconds later she heard a lusty little cry and she crowed with relief. She was far too weak to sit up, but she was trying desperately to see her child, tucked between the two knights.
Paris cut the cord and William held up the babe for her
to see. Happy, emotional tears brimmed.
“Your son is fine,” his voice was hoarse. “Look at him, Jordan. He’s huge.”
She gave a sort of triumphant shout and fell back onto the pillows, relieved and exhausted. William handed his wailing son over to his friend and moved to embrace his wife. He found that he was shaking as much as she was.
Jordan brought her arms up and wound them around his neck. Together they giggled almost hysterically, their relief evident in that they thought this moment might never come. The little boy being tended by his father’s friend had been through a lifetime of worry before he had even been born.
“He is beautiful, Jordan,” William kissed her over and over. “Just like his mother.”
She was crying more now, the jubilation wearing off and being replaced by sheer relief. His kisses were more tender, more reverent, as he stroked her damp hair.
“I love ye, English,” she whispered. “Bloody hell, I am tired.”
“I have no doubt,” Paris said as he swaddled the babe as well as any midwife. “This child is as big as any I have ever seen.”
William and Jordan looked over as Paris brought their son over to them. William propped her up on some pillows as she accepted the dark-haired boy, cooing sweetly to him and admiring his size.
Paris, meanwhile, carefully delivered the afterbirth and wrapped it up for burial. When he was finished, he moved quietly for the door to allow the parents’ time alone with their new son when Byron suddenly came bursting in, faster than anyone could ever remember seeing him move.
William and Jordan grinned at the little man. “Too late, Byron,” William said. “My son would not wait for you.”
Byron peered at the infant. “Looks healthy enough,” he observed. “Who delivered him? Not that one, I hope.” He tilted his head in Paris’ direction.
Paris smirked. “Nay, Oh Great Devil’s Apprentice. I simply assisted and the baron did the rest.”
Byron, used to Paris’ jibes, ignored the man and settled himself between Jordan’s legs. “Well, the mother tore a bit, but other than that she appears all right.” His eyes found William’s for the first time and he cracked an ancient smile. “Good work, baron.”
William smiled weakly, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden but yet at the same time, not sleepy in the least. He kissed his wife’s forehead, loving her more than words could express. She had did as she promised, and gave him a third son.
William celebrated for the rest of night the birth of Patrick John Thomas de Wolfe.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
One week later and two weeks overdue, Jemma delivered a huge, healthy baby boy after fourteen of the longest hours in Kieran’s life.
Alec Matthew Jeffrey Hage was christened, along with his cousin Patrick, in the small chapel of Northwood, cradled in their fathers’ arms and surrounded by a host of male relatives and non-relatives. Caladora was nearly the only female in attendance, standing in for both mothers, who were still confined to bed.
Time passed quickly and the children thrived. Within six weeks, Jordan had regained her figure and her vigor, and she took total delight in taking care of her sons herself. Except for the wet nurse, she insisted on doing everything by herself, as if trying to make up for the time she was unable to do anything at all. William tried to reason with her but she was determined, and with resignation he allowed it. He feared she would tire herself out, but she appeared to be limitless.
One bright April morning, Jordan and Jemma took the children out for a walk around the compound. The weather was beginning to warm and turn heavenly and they could all use a dose of sunshine. Jordan held Patrick, his dark little head peeking out from beneath the blankets and clutched Scott with her other hand. Jemma held Alec in one arm and gripped Troy with her free hand as Mary Alys tagged along behind. The sun was glorious and Jordan’s spirits were good, for it was the first time she had been out for months and her body was fairly aching for air and sunlight.
She and Jemma talked and talked as the twins screamed and pulled, trying to break away while Mary Alys tried to calm them down. With all of the noise and movement, kids screaming and babies yelling, Jordan had never been happier.
They rounded the corner into the outer bailey, planning to head towards the practice field to see if they could find their husbands, who had been missing all morning. Almost immediately they ran into Ranulf, who took pity on them and clutched a twin in each big hand. Troy didn’t want to leave his Aunt Jemma and fought the whole way, while Scott didn’t want anyone to hold his hand and took to going limp as a rag. Ranulf seemed to remember the lad’s mother using a similar tactic and talked softly to the boy until he stood on his own feet. At fourteen months of age, they were already brilliant little terrors.
There were several men on the field, sweating under the newly warm sun, but neither William nor Kieran were there. They saw Deinwald and Michael working with the new knights, but they were the only men they recognized.
Puzzled, Jordan turned to Ranulf. “Where did my husband go?”
“He, Kieran, Paris and Roan rode out early, my lady,” he told her. “I know not where they went.”
Jemma shrugged. “Probably to Questing.”
Jordan agreed. “William canna stay away from that place. The sooner we move there, the better. At least I shall be able to see him once in a while.”
Ranulf bit his tongue. When they moved there, so would the children, and he was becoming quite attached to the little devils. In fact, he feared the life would go right out of Northwood once William and his entourage left. He was sorely tempted to go with them.
Caladora came up behind them, her pretty face glowing, Jordan and Jemma smiled broadly in response.
“Callie.” Jordan exclaimed. “Where have ye been? We went looking for ye earlier but ye werena in yer room.”
Caladora shrugged. “Oh, I have been around.” She bent over Patrick. “Give him to me, Jordi. I havena held him since yesterday.”
Jordan handed over her son, her hands free of children for the first time in a week. She almost didn’t know what to do with herself until Troy cried and she picked him up. At that same moment, Scott pulled free of Ranulf and the knight went running after the lad. She smiled, watching the big man trying to corral the little blond-headed tot, trying not to make him scream.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her shoulder and she felt a wet, scratchy kiss to her cheek. “Good morn, Jordi,” her father said.
“Hello, Da,” she answered as her father took Troy from her arms. Troy loved his grandsire tremendously.
“How was yer visit with yer cousin, Callie?” Thomas asked as he pretended to bite Troy’s fingers. “Did the twins keep ye awake?”
Caladora froze, her eyes wide as she looked between her uncle and Jordan. “Nay, Uncle Thomas,” she said. “They… they are angels. We all slept through the night just fine.”
She said it rather strained, looking at Jordan with wide eyes, silently begging her to go along with the story. Jordan could see that something was up and she would not give her cousin away. Thomas was very protective of the unmarried Caladora and kept a sharp eye on her. Evidently, the woman had lied to him about where she had been the night before.
“Callie was very helpful, Da,” she said, dying to know where her cousin had been although she could guess. She took Troy from her father’s arms. “Da, would ye like to take the twins to the lake? They like to throw rocks in the water.”
Thomas was happy to take the fidgeting twins on a walkabout. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jordan and Jemma turned to Caladora.
“Well?” Jordan demanded. “Out with it. Where were ye last night that ye fibbed to my Da?”
Caladora had expected the interrogation. Her focus was on Patrick, cradled in her arms. “Where do you think?”
Jemma crowed. “Ye were with him!” she said. “Did he bed ye, then?”
Caladora flushed. “It wasna like that,” she insisted weakly. “He was very kind and gentle an
d….”
“Did he bed ye or not?”
Caladora looked up at Jemma, frowning. “You make it sound so… so cheap.”
Jordan and Jemma passed glances. Jordan was fighting off a grin. “I am happy for ye, Callie, truly,” she said somewhat gently. “When William and I first coupled, it was miraculous. I had never felt such… such love or passion. Was it like that for ye?”
Caladora looked at the baby again, her frown turning to a smile. “He is a truly wonderful and giving man,” she murmured. “I… I love him very much.”
Jordan and Jemma grinned at the expression on their cousin’s face. They were both thrilled for her.
“Did he speak of marriage?” Jordan asked.
Caladora nodded. “He did. He says I will marry no one but him, when he is damn good and ready.”
Her cousins scowled at that less-than-romantic remark. “That sounds like him, the arrogant pig,” Jemma said firmly.
Jordan cocked a knowing eyebrow. “My husband has certain influences over Paris. I will work on him.”
Caladora shrugged. “ ’Tis of no matter, really. Mayhap I will conceive and he will have to marry me.”
Jemma began to rock Alec as he let out a little mew. “I am curious, Callie. Ye and Paris have known each other for months now and this was the first time he bedded ye?”
Caladora thrust up her chin. “Aye, it is, but it wasn’t for the lack of trying on his part. I simply wasna ready to give in to him.”
“But ye did,” Jordan said softly, pushing her cousin’s hair over her shoulder. “I know he cares for ye a great deal.”
“He loves me,” Caladora insisted. “He tells me that every day.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 128