“Well, he better marry ye if he knows what’s good for him,” Jemma said threateningly, “or he will have to deal with me.”
Caladora nodded. “He knows that. But marriage frightens him, even though he has seen it do remarkable things for William and Kieran,” she sighed patiently. “I will simply have to wait, ’tis all.”
As if on cue, four huge destriers came barreling in through the open gate of Northwood and the women turned, immediately recognizing the riders.
Jordan’s heart swelled with pride and love. She had seen him riding hundreds of times, sitting proud and tall in the saddle, but the sight still brought a giddy feeling to her every time as if it were the first. No one in the world looked as good as her William in armor.
The horses headed straight for them, kicking up dirt as they went. People scampered to clear the way as they came to a halt a several feet away. Jordan smiled, approaching her husband as he dismounted his dark gray steed.
He pulled off his helmet and gave her a big kiss. “Hello, love,” he said. “We saw your father and the boys out by the lake.”
She nodded. “I know. Where have ye been?”
“At Questing.” He was fussing with his armor and his saddle, not looking at her. She lifted her eyebrows expectantly.
“And?” she bade him continue.
He looked at her, propping his helmet on the saddle. Then he smiled. “When can you be ready to leave?”
She smiled gleefully. “Today?”
He shrugged, pleased at her delight. “Whenever you are ready.”
“Today!” she cried. “Oh, Jemma, did ye hear? We’re finally going to Questing!”
Her dark-haired cousin was nodding happily, although the other cousin did not look as pleased. Jordan saw Caladora’s expression and her heart sank. William sensed the sadness and hesitation.
“We do not have to leave tonight, or even tomorrow,” he said, smiling at his wife and at Caladora. “Take your time. Questing will wait.”
Kieran had dismounted, approaching his wife. “Give me my son,” he said.
Jemma turned away from him, protecting Alec. “Not with all of that armor on. Take it off and then ye can hold him.”
Kieran put his hands on his hips. “Lord, Jemma, the armor won’t bite him.”
“Daddy won’t bite, either,” Mary Alys defended Kieran. He smiled down at her and patted her dark head.
But Jemma took a step back, defiance written all over her face. “Take it off.”
“Kieran, your wife is desperately in need of discipline,” Paris said, as he dismounted his own animal and took off his helmet. “How you tolerate such bad manners, I will never know.”
Jemma snarled her lip at Paris. “And why ye haven’t married my cousin yet, I will never know,” she fired back. “This beautiful woman has dozens of admirers that would marry her tomorrow, but she waits for ye.”
Jordan rolled her eyes at William, who was growing amused with Paris’ discomfort. Paris remained in control, although he would have liked nothing better than to throttle the little Scot. But she angered him and he could not resist the chance to jab at her, although it would be risking Kieran’s wrath.
“As I recall, you had to get married,” he said deliberately. “I do not.”
William groaned to himself. As touchy as Paris was about marriage, he should have known this would have been his reaction.
They all waited for Jemma to explode, but much to their collective surprise, Jemma actually smiled.
“That may change,” she said devilishly.
Caladora flushed bright red at the divulging of such secret information. Paris, not particularly surprised that last night had become common knowledge, shrugged and looked his blushing paramour right in the eye.
“Mayhap,” he said evenly.
William shook his head. “I cannot believe this conversation.” He went to retrieve his son from his wife’s mortified cousin. “I am taking Patrick and retreating to my chambers. Jordan?”
“I am coming,” she said, lifting her skirts and gave Paris a timid smile before following her husband.
Kieran watched William go. “He gets to hold his son in full armor,” he pointed, then turned to his wife. “Give him to me.”
Jemma frowned but complied after a brief hesitation. Happy, Kieran crooned softly to the infant as Paris approached Jemma and Caladora. He put his hands on his hips, gazing down at Caladora and all but ignoring Jemma.
“Did you tell her to say that?” he demanded softly.
Caladora was horrified. “Nay,” she replied. “I would never do that.”
Paris glanced reprovingly at Jemma before turning back to Caladora. “Well, it is of no matter, of course,” he said. “I will marry you when I am ready to, in spite of your cousin’s opinions.”
Caladora nodded submissively. “I know that, Paris. I have never said otherwise.”
“Callie, dunna be such a coward,” Jemma admonished her. “Dunna let him talk to ye like that.”
Paris had had just about enough of Lady Hage. He pursed his lips threateningly and her husband intervened. “Come on, sweetheart, leave these two alone,” he cradled his son in one arm and pulled his wife and daughter along with the other.
Poor Caladora was ready to run for cover when they were finally alone. She stared, embarrassed and guilty, at the ground. Paris looked her over, knowing she was slowly dying inside from shame and it made him smile. He had never met a woman with more humility than she. He put his finger underneath her chin, raising her eyes to meet his.
“It seems that I am to be branded a cad if I do not marry you soon,” he said softly.
Caladora’s eyes widened. “I never….”
He put up a hand. “I know you did not, for you are too much of a lady, unlike some women around here.” His point was apparent. “I said that we would not marry until I was ready, but I never said when I would be ready.”
Caladora didn’t know what to say. He stared back into her pale green eyes and took a strand of hair between his fingers.
“I realized last night how much I love you,” he said quietly. “ ’Tis true I have told you that before, but I never realized how much I meant it. I guess I didn’t want to admit that such a lovely creature had control over me. I will love you now as well as fifty years from now and, therefore, there is no longer any reason to wait. I am ready to marry you now.”
Her eyes bulged. “Now?”
He grinned at her shock and put a hand over his heart. “If you will indeed have me, sweet. I am an arrogant, prideful man and I do not expect to change my ways.”
She shook her head, her eyes welling. “I would not have ye change.”
He took that for a positive response to his answer and pulled her into his arms.
*
William placed Patrick gently in his cradle as the wet nurse hovered several feet away. It was overwhelmingly known how protective the earl was with his sons, and mayhap Patrick all the more because of the tough time he had had coming into the world. Although Patrick was a large, healthy boy, William sometimes treated him as if he were suddenly going to disappear.
“English, leave him to sleep,” Jordan admonished him softly from the door to the nursery. “He wunna be able to rest with all of that armor clanging about.”
William kissed his son’s tiny head once more before reluctantly doing as he was asked. Retreating from the nursery and back into the antechamber, Jordan helped her husband remove his armor until he was dressed only in a tunic, linen breeches and boots. Then she threw herself against him.
“I canna believe we are finally going!” she exclaimed. “After all this time, ’tis overwhelming.”
He kissed her before pulling away from her and stripping off his tunic. “For me, as well,” he agreed. “It has been a long time in coming.”
Jordan smiled, plopping happily into the high back chair. “Is our chamber grand?”
He grinned. “As grand as you can imagine, love. As grand as you dese
rve.”
She flashed her teeth with happy excitement, laying crosswise on the chair so that her knees hung over one arm and her head over the other. “And I want to find a place for a flower garden, English. My mother had one, once, and I should like to have one. And pets, too, a place for George and dogs and rabbits.”
He poured himself a cup of wine. “Aye, there is plenty of room for that.” As he drank, he eyed her supple body as she draped herself over the chair. Lord, the woman looked as if she had never seen a day of pregnancy.
He remembered exactly when the last time occurred that he had made love to her; eight months ago in London and he was nearly dying with the urge to make love to her again. It had been the longest eight months of his life, but well worth the sacrifice. They had waited seven weeks to make love after the twins were born, and it had nearly been that now, but he would not push her. He didn’t want to seem like he was hounding her.
“Is there a lake, English?” she asked him, staring dreamily up at the ceiling.
“Aye, there is,” he regarded her. “A big one. And Michael made a little boat for the boys to ride in.”
She smiled at him. “Did he? How sweet.” She sighed happily and sat straight once again, looking her husband over. “Ye look as if ye could use a bath.”
He looked down at his broad, naked and sweaty chest and shrugged. “Mayhap.”
Jordan stood up. “I can smell ye from over here,” she said. She stuck her head into the hallway and called softly to a serving wench for a bath. Closing the door, she turned back to her husband. “Off with the clothes, English. And I may burn them.”
He grinned, “They are not that bad.”
She wrinkled her nose and went to the large wardrobe where she kept their hygiene products. She brought out a liquid soap made with beer for his hair and a cake of sandalwood-scented soap. Scottish soap, she proudly proclaimed.
He watched her busy herself for his bath, his heart warm and full with her. Every day he fell in love with her anew; when he saw her cooing over the twins, or breastfeeding Patrick, or laughing with her cousins. He knew now as he had known when he met her, had he not married Lady Jordan Scott, he would have shriveled up and died. He could not imagine his life without her, and as much as he loved and worshipped his children, he loved and worshipped her more. She was his all for living.
The serving girl and several soldiers brought in a huge copper tub and began filling it with hot water. William retreated to the bedchamber to remove his clothing as his wife saw to the filling of his bath and called him when it was ready.
He sank to his chest in the tub and watched Jordan as she put on an apron and pulled her luxurious hair to the nape of her neck. She started with his head by pouring a huge pitcher of water over him and lathering his hair until he thought she was washing all the follicles from his head. She chattered endlessly as she scrubbed and scraped and rinsed. She even shaved him, putting a glob of soap on his nose and then laughing loudly when he grabbed her and kissed her, covering her face with lather as well.
He was greatly enjoying the feel of her soft hands on his back, his arms, and his chest. By the time she had him stand so that she could lather his lower regions, he was almost fully aroused and she gave him a reproachful glance.
“English,” she shook her head. “Not now.”
He faced her as she washed his legs, his large manhood standing straight out and nearly poking her in the eye. He was smiling, and she was fighting off the giggles as she tried to ignore his want for her and finish her task. But her restraint was waning, for she wanted him just as badly and running her hands all over his taut, beautiful body was making her mad with desire.
“It has been nearly seven weeks, wife,” he reminded her, breaking his own promise to himself to remain silent.
She stood up and rinsed him until all of the soap ran free. He got out of the tub and she dried him as he has seen her dry the twins, vigorously yet tenderly. But she had yet to answer him.
“I know,” she said after a minute.
William watched the top of her head as she worked. “I would bathe you now.”
She looked up at him. “But I had a bath only yesterday.”
He reached around and pulled the ribbon from her hair, running his fingers through it. “I would bathe you now,” he repeated huskily.
Jordan closed her eyes at his touch, the touch she had craved for months and months. She suddenly decided she wanted him now and to hell with the bath; that would only delay her exquisite pleasure. True, he would be running his hands all over her eager body, but she wanted him in her much sooner than a bath would allow.
She pressed herself against him, pulling his head down to her mouth and kissing him as passionately as she could ever remember. Months and months of waiting were revealed in the kiss and her hands entwined themselves in his thick damp hair, keeping him bent to her. His lips were so warm and soft that she was licking him and whimpering his name in no time.
William was consumed with desire, love, and passion, everything as he picked up his wife and carried her into their bedchamber. She was hanging onto his neck, kissing him feverishly as his hands rid her of her clothing. Quickly, they were both nude and William suddenly stopped kissing her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly.
He was looking at her body where she stood on the bed, his hands reverently exploring her.
“Nothing,” he whispered, dragging his hand down her torso.
“God, Jordan, you look better now that you ever have, even before you had children. You are so beautiful.”
She watched his soft expression as he got reacquainted with her body. “Do ye think so? I think I have gone to fat, especially here on my stomach.”
He ran a hand over her slightly rounded, but very desirable belly. “No, love. Before you had the boys, you had the body of a nubile young girl. Now you have the body of a ripe, luscious woman and you drive me mad with desire such as I have never known.”
She smiled, feeling deeply complemented by his words. “Thank ye, English.”
With a groan he pulled her belly to his mouth and licked and sucked at her until she was crying softly with her need. His hands were kneading her buttocks as his mouth moved over her torso. Not taking his mouth from her, he lay her down on the bed and half covered her with his huge form while his hands roamed freely.
He pushed himself up to her breasts, remember how he had enjoyed their lovemaking when she had been breastfeeding the twins. His mouth latched onto an ultra-sensitive nipple and he suckled her hungrily, listening to her sighs of pleasure.
“Oh, English,” she gasped, electrified. “I had nearly forgotten the feel of ye. It has been too long.”
“Too long,” he brought himself up and descended on her mouth and she tasted her milk on his tongue. It was enough to drive her insane.
His hands were everywhere, touching and probing and she parted her thighs to encourage him. As much as she relished his touch, she wanted him in her and moving. It had been too, too long.
He slipped between her legs, his mouth immediately closing in on her woman’s center. She stiffened and bucked beneath him, silently encouraging him onward as her fingers entwined in his hair and refused to let go. When he did finally raise himself up, he made sure to look her in the eye before entering her. As long as they had both waited, he wanted to see her face when he filled her.
Jordan gazed back into the hazel-gold depths of his right eye, feeling his organ pressing against her most intimate place. He would press a little and then release, over and over, gaining headway little by little until Jordan was ready to scream with frustration.
“English. Dunna tease me.” she begged breathlessly.
“But you are so tight, love,” he told her. “I do not want to hurt you.”
She grasped his defined buttocks and wrapped her legs around his thighs. “Hurt me.”
She thrust her pelvis forward, driving him deep inside her. William groaned, assisting he
r by tightening his buttocks and plunging forward as far as he could possibly go. She was so incredibly tight that he knew he must be hurting her, yet she didn’t utter a sound other than those of ecstasy.
His desire took over and he plunged into her again and again, bracing his arms on either side of her with only their loins touching so that he could watch her body respond to his. All of the months of waiting and frustration disappeared, for the coupling they were sharing at this moment somehow made it all worthwhile. It was beyond words.
He came first with a violent thrust, joined shortly by his wife as she felt him spill into her. His pleasure was prolonged by the throbbing of her passage until he lay forward on her, his head on her chest and listening to the rapid pounding of her heart. Jordan stroked his hair tenderly. “English, was it a painful wait for ye?”
His muscular arms wrapped around her body. “Of course not. The greater priority was yours and Patrick’s health.”
“But did ye…I mean, were ye ever tempted… oh, damn,” she sputtered. She hadn’t meant to mention what had been on her mind during her entire infirmary. She felt that asking William if he had sought relief elsewhere would have been to imply a lack of trust. And she trusted him with her life.
He lifted his head to look at her. “If you are asking me if I was ever tempted to take my pleasure with another, then the answer is no,” he said. “I love you, Jordan. I have not so much as looked at another woman since I met you. To make love to you is the ultimate display of my affection and I would not ever consider the same action with anyone else, no matter what the circumstances.”
“Ye mean to tell me that since ye met me on the moors and I tended ye that ye havena had another woman? Not even a whore?” She found that hard to believe.
He shook his head. “Nay, I haven’t.”
She believed him, of course, and she smiled. “Really? I am touched.”
He smiled faintly and lay his head back down between her full breasts. Jordan resumed stroking his hair.
“But ye have had women before,” she stated. “How many?”
He rolled his eye at the turn the conversation had taken. She always picked the most inopportune times to discuss subjects and he certainly didn’t feel like reviewing past conquests now. But, should he refuse to answer, she would wonder why and become upset. So he humored her.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 129