“Aye, I have had women before,” he replied. “Though not many. Not like Paris.”
“Was there anyone who was ever special to ye?” she asked timidly.
He shook his head. “No, Jordan, I can go to my grave with a clear conscience on that. Only you.”
Satisfied, she smiled. “Then how many would ye say ye’ve had?”
His head came up again and he frowned at her. “Do we have to talk about this?”
Her head came up to look at him. “And why not? Is there something ye dunna want me to know?”
“Of course not,” he insisted. “But why do you want to know how many woman I have had? ’Tis an ancient subject.”
Her lip stuck out in a pout and she lowered her gaze. He made a wry face, knowing he would tell her the secret of life if she asked it. He would say or tell her anything just to keep her happy.
“Offhand, I’d say I have had ten or twelve women in my life, but I have never truly kept count,” he said. “There was no one special, although there was one lady I bedded on several occasions over the course of a few years. But that’s it.”
“And who was this lady?” Jordan felt wildly jealous and insecure.
He rolled off her and onto his back on the pillows, bringing up his huge arms and covering his face with his hands.
“Her name was Lady Jordan Scott, and she was pledged to my liege. But I was mad for her and could not keep my hands from her,” he said, as he took his hands away and looked at her. “The last I heard she married some conceited halfwit and lived happily ever after.”
Jordan’s stance immediately softened and she gave him a smirked grin. “Stop teasing me.”
He reached out and pulled her to him, his smoky gaze devouring her face. “I am not. I am simply answering your question. There has always only been you, my lady, and there will always only be you.”
She smiled and kissed him tenderly, looking at him lovingly for a few moments. Then, her smile faded and she almost looked outraged.
“What do ye mean ‘not like Paris?’” she demanded.
He groaned and rolled his eye again. It was going to be a long day.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Paris and Caladora’s wedding was a huge, lavish affair. Caladora wore Jordan’s wedding dress, although it was too short, but she looked ravishing in it nonetheless. She was the very model of a blushing bride and Paris, the nervous groom.
Jordan stood next to her husband during the short ceremony, thinking how wonderful it would have been if they had been able to have a big wedding such as this. But her wedding had been better than Jemma’s, who had been married lying in a bed. Yet she had no regrets, nor was she jealous in any way. Caladora and Paris deserved as fine a wedding as this.
The feast that followed was a long one. Adam had graciously provided for his captain, and the food and wine flowed freely. The knights sat on the dais with their captain and Baron Kilham. William wore his new suit of ceremonial armor for the first time, bearing his new crest. Kieran, Michael, Marc, Roan and Deinwald also wore their new armor, as did Sir Henry and Sir Philip. The rest of the knights, new and old, wore the de Longley crest.
It had been a strange experience when William and Paris saw each other for the first time, wearing armor of different crests. It was as if they had passed some sort of milestone and they were both saddened and gladdened at the same time.
Jordan sat with her husband and next to Jemma, enjoying herself immensely at such a happy occasion. Thomas and Matthew were equally pleased with the turn of events because they liked Paris and knew Nathaniel would have, too. It was a wonderful celebration of a way of life that had come full circle, melded, grown. Privately, the elder Scotts never believed they would see the day when they would sit in harmony with so many English.
After stuffing themselves with the numerous courses that had been stylishly presented, the musicians finally kicked in with a jig, signaling the beginning of the dancing. Jordan sat in her chair, as stuffed as a capon, watching people as they took to the floor. Her husband was laughing with Paris about something and she watched him, his strong profile and the way the candlelight caught the highlights in his hair.
It suddenly occurred to her that she had never, ever danced with him. He’d always been too busy, or gone, or had every other excuse. Tonight, she would have her dance.
She sat forward and leaned on his back. “Dance with me, English.”
He looked at her over his shoulder, “Now?”
She stood up and thrust out her hand to him. “Now.”
He stood up, looking warily at her. “Jordan, I do not dance nearly as well as you do. Why do not you ask someone else?”
She stepped close to him, her shining eyes on his face. “We never had a wedding dance, English. In fact, we have never danced at all. Will ye still refuse now?”
He gazed down at her. “Of course not,” his voice was husky. “But I do not want to hear any cries of pain when I land on your feet.”
He didn’t land on her feet. He was a wonderful dancer, as she knew he would be, and they danced song after song until they were sweating rivers. Paris and Caladora were the only couple who could keep up with them. But after an hour or so of endless dancing, the knights began to cut in and William soon found himself watching from the table as his wife danced with every knight in attendance, at least twice. With Deinwald, it was four times, and all of this before midnight.
Jordan and her cousins were nonstop well into the early morning hours. William knew she loved parties and was careful to watch her wine intake. When she had imbibed four cups of wine, he insisted on flavored water from that point on. She complied, reluctantly, already feeling the alcohol in her veins when she told him he was a stick in the mud. He smiled and kissed her before Michael gallantly swung her away again.
William sat with Thomas and Matthew, their conversation very pleasant as they watched the merriment. Jemma came over and yanked her father to the dance floor while her weary husband took the man’s vacated seat. William laughed at Kieran, flushed and sweaty, knowing how he felt.
Paris and Caladora retired to their chambers shortly before dawn to a host of whistles and cries and promises that the guests would insist on inspecting the linen. Horrified, Caladora looked at her new husband, who simply smiled and told her through clenched teeth that everything would be fine. She trusted his word.
The dancing resumed and William was once again engaged with Thomas and Kieran. He didn’t know how long it was before he realized his wife was not on the dance floor. Puzzled, he glanced about the room.
“Kieran, where is your wife?” he asked.
Kieran looked about the hall and shook his head. “I do not know. Where is yours?”
William stood up. “I have no idea.”
Thomas noticed the concern he saw in both men, even over a matter as small as this. It was a constant amazement to him that two small, sometimes flighty women could exert such control over two huge, powerful men.
“Let’s go find them,” William said with a sigh. “They are probably harassing the hell out of Paris and Caladora.”
“Aye,” Kieran agreed. “Your wife has one hell of a mischievous streak in her.”
William frowned at him as they walked away. “As if your wife does not?”
Thomas grinned, turning his attention back to the party in front of him and savoring the good French wine.
But Jordan and Jemma were not harassing the newlyweds. A search of both couples’ apartments turned up nothing. Perplexed, William and Kieran checked the hall again but the women were nowhere to be found. Yet they were not worried, at least not yet. If a search of the entire castle didn’t turn them up, then they would find the time to worry.
A search of the castle, however, proved to be unnecessary. They were passing down a corridor just outside of the hall when they heard familiar giggles. More relieved than they would admit, they followed the sounds until they came to a closed door from which the noises emanated.
The men paused a moment, listening to the giggling with amused curiosity. Whatever they were laughing at was certainly funny and the men hesitated a moment to break up the party, after all, ’twas only two women laughing about…something. They were probably laughing about Paris and Caladora, mayhap something to do with sabotaging the bridal suite. William motioned Kieran to follow him back into the hall when they heard another, deeper sound; a male giggle chiming in with the others.
The door shattered in a million splinters within a second.
Jordan sat, wide-eyed, on the top of the earl’s desk. Jemma was standing in the middle of the room, her hair hanging wildly over her face as if she had just righted herself from an upside-down position. Both women were staring at the two huge, huffing men standing in the doorjamb, looking at them as if they were quite mad.
Adam de Longley, Earl of Teviot, was sitting in a chair behind the massive desk that had belonged to his father, the bottle of alcohol in his hand frozen on the way to his mouth. He, too, stared in surprise at the men in the doorway.
“You broke my door!” he exclaimed.
William was trying to control himself as he stepped into the room, kicking a piece of wood away. His gaze was focused entirely on his wife.
“Would you mind telling me what you are doing?” he asked her.
She blinked at him, opened her mouth to speak, and then started giggling. Jemma joined in, and it was no time before they were giggling like a couple of fools. William lost his patience.
“Jordan!” he snapped.
She jumped, her laughter gone when she slapped her hand over her mouth in a silly gesture.
“Shhh,” she admonished him. “Dunna yell, English. There is no need.”
In that short answer he knew everything he needed to know. She was drunk. Calming with amazing speed, he crossed his arms and looked reprovingly at her.
“What have you been drinking?” he asked.
She looked at him innocently, trying to cross her legs casually but seemed to be having difficulty. She looked down at them, wondering why they were refusing to work. “Drinking what?” she asked.
William looked at Kieran and they gave each other knowing glances. “That’s what I asked you, love. What have you been drinking?”
She shook her head and found herself falling forward off the table while Jemma screamed with laughter.
“Nothing much, English,” she insisted when he reached out to grab her before she collided with the floor. “The earl has a special reserve.”
William gazed over at Adam and saw that the young lord was drunk as well. Reaching over, he took the bottle from the young man’s hand and sniffed it.
“Good God,” he yanked his nose away in disgust. “Whisky.”
Jemma began to bounce around like a rabbit possessed. “Whisky, whisky, whisky,” she sang over and over.
Kieran rolled his eyes and went to his wife. “Stop that,” he said sternly. “Come with me. The party is over.”
She balked. “Nay! I dunna want to leave.”
He pulled on her and she screamed and tried to yank free, dancing about. Having had enough of her refusal, Kieran let go of her hand long enough to bend down and throw her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. She screamed and beat on his broad back, hitting armor with her little fists.
“Kieran, do you remember a couple of years ago at the engagement party of de Longley and Jordan?” William asked him. “Do you remember how drunk your wife was and we had to remove her?”
“Aye, I do,” Kieran said flatly, looking over at Adam. “She never did tell me where she got the whisky.”
William nodded with a wry twist of his lips. “We know now, do we now?” He looked at his wife. “What in the world possessed you to do this? You know how sick you will become on the morrow.”
She pouted. “Because ye told me no more wine,” she said. “Adam heard ye and he offered Jemma and me a drink from his private cock.”
William choked on the guffaw bubbling up, clearing his throat instead. “You mean private stock,” he muttered. “I take it, then, that you came in here to drink it where I would not see you?”
“Aye,” she nodded solemnly. “I disobeyed ye and I am sorry.”
He shook his head and picked her up. “Not nearly as sorry as you are going to be.”
Adam watched them go, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life. His parents were dead, he had killed his brother, and his sister was in London. He was alone.
Even his knights had families. Deeply, he wished that Jordan had indeed been married to his father. Newly widowed, he would have married her the next day. He’d always had a soft spot for the beautiful Scot, but there was no way he could compete against The Wolf. He would not even want to try, but it didn’t stop him from wishing for what could have been.
Mournfully, he took another drink and wondered if he drank enough if he would forget his sadness.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Jordan’s first view of Questing were of three thick turrets rising above the trees. At first glance they looked to be rather small, but that was until the caravan broke free of the woods and she realized that the castle was still a way off. She furthermore realized that the structure was absolutely massive to have been so clearly seen at such a distance.
It was a strange experience, seeing her new home for the first time. When she had first seen Northwood, her reaction had been one of fear and uncertainty. The foremost emotion she was experiencing at this moment was awe.
Not even a half day’s ride from Northwood, Questing wasn’t nearly as tall as its ally, but it was spread out over a much wider area. It was formed like a misshapen “H”, with both inner and outer baileys, a massive moat that looked more like a lake, and something that could only be described as a manmade hill that surrounded the entire moat.
William explained to her that when enemy troops approached and attempted to get close to the fortress, they would march to the top of the rise and become easy targets for the soldiers inside. It was an amazing bit of protection.
Even Thomas commented on it, riding in a place of honor next to William and Jordan. He remarked that such a device would work well around Langton, and further commented that he was intent on putting in a moat as well. Langton didn’t have one. William promised to help him design and build one.
A good-sized village skirted the fortress, alive with peasants rushing to get out of the way. William’s troops were firmly established both inside and outside the fortress, and Jordan immediately noticed their presence. But her attention riveted to the huge yawning gates when they passed through them, studying her new home with pleasure.
The baileys were huge and well-kept, thanks to the hard work of William and his men while Jordan was laid up with her pregnancy. Of course, he had had ample time to repair and clean the place up for her arrival and she was not disappointed. It was magnificent.
Michael greeted them from the top of the inner wall, yelling his greeting to the arriving party. William waved back at him and the scramble began to unload and organize everything they had brought with them from Northwood.
William slid off his horse and pulled Jordan into his arms. She laughed happily as he carried her across the inner bailey, not letting her feet touch the ground until he carried her through the massive front door and into a cavernous grand hall.
He set her down and Jordan’s mouth was open in awe at the sheer sight of the hall before her. She stared in wonderment, looking up to the sheer ceiling and noticing the multiple balconies jutting out over the room from the second and third floors. The wood on the balconies was polished to a sheen and the stone floor was scrubbed spotless.
Jordan shook her head as her husband stood behind her.
“English, ’tis so magnificent,” she breathed. “Is it truly ours?”
He wrapped his arms around her, both of them turning when Kieran and Jemma, Michael, Roan and Marc filed noisily through the door. Deinwald and Aloria were close behind, followed
by Thomas, Matthew, Cord, Ian, the children and their nurses. The room that had been silent a moment before was now filled with voices, children crying, and laughter. Questing had been empty so long that surely the sounds were awakening her spirit, calling her forth to protect a new baron and his family.
The knights and loved ones disbanded as they found their way to their rooms, admiring the castle as they went along. Jordan and William watched them go, hearing their voices fade.
William gave his wife a loving squeeze.
“Aye, love,” he said softly. “We are home.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Jordan was terrified. She had heard the horns sound and when her husband had come to see her, he was in full battle armor down to the gauntlets. He bade her stay in their massive suite with the children, and would not say much else.
Kieran brought Jemma and their children to stay with Jordan, both men feeling better that the families stay together until they knew what was going on. William kissed his wife and was gone with his second.
The windows of their apartments gave them an unadulterated view of the baileys and the front gates. In the distance, Jordan and Jemma could see an approaching army, and down below, she could see William’s troops mobilizing. She wondered where her father and uncle and cousins were, wondering with growing horror if they were down below and assembling with the troops. After all, her father was a warlord, and her male kin were soldiers. But would William actually let them fight?
And fight whom?
She still didn’t know who the approaching horde were, and it angered and terrified her. Who would dare attack her beautiful Questing? The only possible answer horrified her, for the only possible answer could be Scots. She knew that news of William’s new seat had spread like wildfire throughout the border region, and that included the Scots. She wondered if they had banded together one last time to come and destroy him for good.
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