William licked his lips and dropped his gaze, kicking at the ground. “I thought I was in control.”
“You are, to the untrained eye,” Paris amended quickly. “But I know you. And so does de Longley.”
William’s head came up, his hazel-gold eyes focusing on Paris’ blue ones. Finally, William shook his head slowly and let out a snort.
“I was doing nothing out of the ordinary, Paris,” he said. “Malcolm slandered Lady Jordan and I was simply defending her honor. Nothing more. Had de Longley been here, you know he would have demanded that I do the same.”
“Do not hand me that nonsense and expect me to digest it,” Paris said in a low voice. “Think about who you are talking to, William. We have had this conversation once or twice before and you have all but admitted your desire for Jordan. You can lie to yourself, but do not lie to me. You never have before.”
William swung to face him. “What is it you want from me, Paris?” he demanded in a pleading tone. “Why is it so important for me to admit….whatever it is you want me to admit? Why does this concern you?”
Paris’ jaw ticked. “Because if there is a storm coming, I want to be prepared.”
William understood then. If he was going to do anything that would jeopardize his life and the life of Jordan, Paris wanted to know. And that act would entail one simple step; an admission to Jordan of his feelings and an admission to him from her. But that would never happen. He shook his head after a moment.
“There will be no storm,” he muttered. “She is de Longley’s bride. I would never do or say anything that would compromise her.”
“But you care for her,” Paris stated.
William looked at him a moment. “I would be lying if I said otherwise.”
Paris was satisfied. Now that he had an admission, it would be easier to deal with things as they came. William felt better, too. Without actually saying anything, he had admitted a great deal. He felt guilty and free at the same time.
“She will never know, Paris,” he said softly. “No matter what. Do you understand me?”
“I will take the information with me to my grave,” Paris replied. “You know that she feels as you do.”
William’s heart skipped a beat. “Why do you say that?”
Paris smiled. “I have been watching her,” he said simply but would not elaborate. He turned to leave. “Now I had better go make sure that the knights tie those men to a tree and are not burning them at the stake or some other sort of rot.”
He was gone, leaving William feeling absolutely bewildered.
*
Paris came charging back into William’s tent not five minutes after he had left. William was preparing his bed for Jordan and glanced up at his second with concern. But, in faith, he was so damn tired he almost didn’t care. Could not they go for a whole hour this night without something catastrophic happening?
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“He is sleeping with her.” Paris said in disbelief.
William looked at him curiously. “Who is sleeping with whom?”
“Kieran is sleeping with Jemma.” he answered, outraged. “By God, she would not sleep with me, but she will sleep with him.”
The corner of William’s mouth twitched. It was very amusing to see Paris so insulted and he wondered what Kieran had said to the little she-devil to soften her bite. True, Kieran was a gentle, chivalrous man, but William had doubts that even that would work on Jemma’s temperament.
“I see,” he muttered, then fought off a chuckle as he read Paris’ face. “My God, Paris, do not take it as a personal insult. You and Lady Jemma do not exactly get along.”
“You should see them,” he raged on. “He is so damn big all, I could see was the top of her head. He is probably smothering her. But they were actually sleeping.”
“Kieran, too?” William wanted to be sure he understood correctly.
“Like a babe.”
William let out a snort of amusement, though he was secretly glad that Kieran’s attention was diverting away from Jordan. He seemed to be becoming a little too attached to her.
“Well… hell,” William mumbled, glancing at his pallet, wishing Jordan were laying there. “I would like to be sleeping, too. Go sleep in Michael and Kieran’s tent, since your pallet is occupied. I have to go get Jordan, anyway.”
Paris pursed his lips together. “Bloody hell, I might as well. I must rise in another hour, anyway.”
William followed him from the tent, watching Paris shake his head as they trudged off across the camp together. Laughing silently at his friend’s injured ego, William could not imagine what else could happen before the sun rose that would surprise him. It had been a night of events, and one hell of a monumental day.
What filled his mind now was the thought of Jordan, her softness against him underneath the furs of his pallet. ’Twould be the last night they would sleep together, he thought regretfully, and he had missed most all of it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
William never did get back to sleep. He had gone to Michael’s tent near dawn to retrieve Jordan. She was so sleepy that he ended up carrying her back to his tent. Kieran brought Jemma over about the same time and the two women were able to assist each other as they prepared for the day ahead.
Jemma had slept in her borrowed surcoat and it was a wrinkled, dirty mess. Jordan remarked that it looked as if Jemma had slept in the dirt which, of course, she had, but Jemma would not admit it. Instead, she promised to wash the dress and insisted on borrowing another.
Jemma was too proud to admit that she had not been able to con the English knight out of his bed, and there was furthermore no way on earth she was going to confess to Jordan that she had spent a portion of the night in an English warrior’s arms.
It made her feel silly and warm to think of the massive, gentle Sir Kieran. She had awoken to find him staring at her. He barely said a word, but his expression had been most tender. She had almost hated to leave him when the time had come to dress, much to her confusion.
Such were her muddled thoughts as she and Jordan dressed. They took forever. All of the tents were disassembled with the exception of William’s, standing like a sentinel in the middle of the field while an entire army of men grew restless around it.
Paris and Kieran formed the company in anticipation that any minute the women would appear from the tent, but it did not happen. The sun was rising, as was the temperature and tempers, but still no women.
Finally, Paris rode up to William. “Shall I hurry them along, sire?”
William sighed. “Nay, I shall do it.”
He started to rein his warhorse when the tent flap flew back and Jemma marched out onto the grass. Without even looking, William knew smiles were crossing the faces of his men. She was dressed in a royal blue satin surcoat and her long dark hair was pulled back away from her face, falling in ringlets over her shoulders and down her back. Her white skin was a beautiful contrast to her dark coloring, for the low neckline showed plenty of flesh. She was very well endowed.
She would have looked quite angelic except for the fact that her brow was furrowed angrily for some reason. Kieran spurred his chestnut destrier over to her and the animal kicked up some dirt. Furious, she brushed at her skirt.
“Are ye daft?” she demanded. “Dunna ruin my dress before I get to Northwood.”
Kieran smiled at her. She didn’t even realize it was him until she looked up, shading her eyes from the bright early morning sun. Then, her countenance changed entirely.
“Greetings, sir knight,” she said, her voice honeyed.
The other knights heard her change of tone and snickered among themselves, save Paris and William. Paris rolled his eyes and William found himself waiting eagerly for Jordan to make her appearance.
Kieran extended his hand to the lovely young lass. “My lady is to ride with me this morn.”
Jemma smiled happily and put her hand in his huge one. As if she weighed no more than a chi
ld, he pulled her up in front of him and waited politely until she moved herself to a comfortable position. Paris watched, scowling.
“She must be a witch,” he muttered. “Look; she has cast a spell on Kieran and turned him into a spineless whelp. Look how he smiles at her?”
William did crack a smile then. “If you could only hear yourself, Paris.”
Paris looked over at him indignantly, but before he could speak, William’s expression softened and Paris knew that Jordan was making her appearance.
A hush settled over the army. All eyes were on the vision crossing the field towards them. Even Kieran had taken his eyes off Jemma long enough to gaze appreciatively upon Jordan. One could almost hear the collective male sigh as they beheld a sight few have truly seen. A truly perfect woman.
William could not breathe. A small gust of wind could have knocked him from his horse. She was so incredibly beautiful that he almost could not believe she was real. As much as he wanted to race to her like an eager boy, that was as much as he knew that he could not.
It occurred to him that if he were going to get a handle on himself, he would have to get away from her. He was a sensible man and his common sense told him to put some distance between them for a while, at least until he could beat down his raging emotions. He would concentrate on what he did best today, and that would be soldiering.
But he stole one last glance at her. She was dressed in a clear shade of red, yards of voluminous brocade swirling around her as she walked. The dress was well off her shoulders, revealing just how exquisitely formed she really was, and the color complimented her beautifully. Her silky honey-blond hair was loose and flowing about her in soft waves.
She was breathtaking. William knew there was no one on the earth who could compare with her beauty. If he’d possessed any less strength he would have dropped to his knees before her.
“Paris,” he said, reining his horse away from her. “Take her with you.”
Paris cocked an eyebrow seductively. “With pleasure, my lord.”
William shot him a menacing look and Paris laughed. “A jest, William. It shall be, in truth, the most arduous of tasks.”
William spurred his animal back toward the column as Paris moved to meet Jordan.
Jordan saw William ride away and her heart sank. So she was to ride with Paris again today. She took a deep breath and reconciled herself to the fact that William simply did not like her very much. And he was probably mad at her for taking so long in preparing this morning, but it was necessary. She was to meet her future husband today and she wanted to look her best.
As Paris reined his horse in front of her she saw several soldiers break from the column and rush over to take down the tent. She smiled up at Paris, even though she did not feel much like smiling.
“I am sorry we took so long, sir knight,” she said to him. “I am sure the captain is quite angry with me.”
Paris dismounted. “Nay, my lady, he is not,” he said. He noticed she carried a small satchel. “Would you like me to take that?”
She handed it to him and watched him strap it to his saddle. As he was jostling it about, there was a great clanging. He raised his eyebrows at her.
“What do you have in here? The bells of Notre Dame?” he asked.
“Something much more valuable,” she insisted. “My comb and hand-mirror.”
“Ah,” he understood, securing the satchel. “Then, my lady, if you are ready?”
She nodded, her hair catching the light. “Aye,” she moved for the animal and suddenly stopped, causing Paris to nearly smash into the back of her. She turned around and caught his curious expression. “Tell me, Sir Paris, do I look…presentable? What I mean to say is, will the earl find me pleasant to look at? Do I look as if I could make a convincing countess?”
Paris smiled such a gentle smile that Jordan could not imagine what he was thinking. But he didn’t answer her question right away and that worried her immensely.
“My lady,” he said finally. “You would put the goddess Aphrodite to shame. The earl will be entranced by your beauty.”
Jordan turned pink. “Thank ye,” she muttered. “Ye really think so?”
Her innocence was refreshing. Paris realized she had no idea how beautiful she was, how she affected every man who saw her. The woman was not fishing for compliments, merely seeking reassurance.
“Yes, my lady, I really think so,” he said softly.
He helped her mount and jumped on behind her. He helped her adjust her skirts so that they lay across his leg and onto the flank of the horse, as not to get tangled up in the animal’s legs.
Paris put his arm around her waist to pull her against him when he was suddenly assaulted by the scent of lavender. God, it smelled so wonderful it made his head spin. Before he could stop himself she heard him groan low in his throat.
“What’s the matter?” she was concerned he was uncomfortable with her sitting in front of him.
“Nothing, my lady,” he assured her quickly. “My…armor jabbed me.”
“Ah,” she nodded in understanding. “ ’Tis probably why William takes his off when I ride with him. I make his armor jab him.”
He almost laughed at her naiveté. In fact, it was so funny that he started to snicker. When she smiled at him because she had no idea what he was laughing at, he burst into hysterical gales. He laughed the entire ride up to the head of the column, drawing stares from his men.
He was still laughing when they reached the other knights and they fell in between Kieran and Michael. Jemma, in front of Kieran, scowled at Paris.
“I knew it,” she whispered loudly to Jordan. “He’s finally gone over the edge and driven himself insane. I suspected it from the first.”
Paris’ smile vanished unnaturally fast and he glared at Jemma. Jordan glanced at him and could see the merriment still in his eyes and was not the least worried that he would punish Jemma for her remark.
“Watch yourself, banshee,” he warned.
Jemma stiffened, but Jordan saw that she was up to enjoying a game of pass-the-insult. Perhaps that was the relationship these two were meant to have.
“How would ye know if I were a banshee or not unless, of course, ye have firsthand knowledge?” she asked. “Yer mother wasna a banshee, by chance?”
Jordan fought off a smile. She lowered her head but not before she glanced wistfully at William’s straight, tall back several feet in front of her. She wished fervently that she were riding with him.
“Understand that my mother was a fine, pious woman,” Paris said indignantly. “But I am sure the only females you understand are the ones that turn into bats in the middle of the night.”
Jemma’s eyes narrowed. “I shall have to take yer word for it that there are women as such. Ye must not know any differently since I suppose they are the only women ye can get into yer bed.”
Jordan’s head came up, sending a look of caution to her cousin, who was smiling triumphantly. But instead of returning the insult as Jemma was expecting, Paris did an immediate turnabout.
“What do you know of men’s beds?” he demanded harshly. “You had better know absolutely nothing…Kieran! Damnation, man, you slept with her last night. You better not have….”
Kieran looked at him with wide eyes. “What in the hell are you talking about?” Then his eyes narrowed dangerously. “You had better not be insinuating that I…..”
The beginning tirade was interrupted by William. He had reined his huge destrier back and flipped up his visor, his gaze hard enough to melt stone.
“I have never heard so goddamn much conversation,” he snapped. “Paris, you ride up with me and leave Lady Jemma alone. Kieran, wipe that bloody look off your face before I wipe it off for you.”
They obeyed without another word. Paris and Jordan rode up with William at the front of the column for a few hours, barely a word spoken between.
The sun had become unseasonably warm and the men were sweating rivers underneath their armor.
Jordan, however, was blissfully content. It was wonderful to be anything other than freezing that several times during the ride she turned her face up to the sun and closed her eyes, basking in the rays. She could feel the heat permeating every corner of her body, warming her and chasing away the anxiety and sadness she was feeling. It was heavenly.
William caught her out of the corner of his eye the first time she turned her porcelain face upward in worship of the seldom-seen sun. His visor was down and he was able to watch her unaware for quite some time, marveling at her beauty. Every so often a soft smile would cross her face and he wondering what she was thinking.
Truth was, he missed her riding with him. It did not seem right to watch her riding with someone else, even if it was Paris. He almost felt empty not having her soft body to hold on to. But it was for the best, he told himself firmly. The sooner he got over his infatuation with her, the better off they would all be. It was infatuation, he reminded himself. Nothing else.
Emotions and love were a gateway to pain. His father had been a kind and wise man, but he never quite seemed to have enough time for his youngest son. William’s two older brothers seemed to warrant all of the attention, and his mother was so ill most of the time that he was never allowed around her. He’d loved his mother but he had been denied her. After a while the love was gone. And his father, well… by the time William was eight years old he was sent off to squire at Northwood and never saw his father alive again.
He did not want to have feelings for anyone, much less love. Yes, he was possessive and he would not deny that he felt a good deal of possessiveness for Jordan, but that could not be equated with love. At least, he hoped not.
As the army plodded along, he thought of his future. Certainly, he wanted a wife, eventually, and sons to carry on his name. But all of his logic fled when he realized that he wanted the mother of his sons to be Jordan. He wanted her and only her, and to think of someone else having her drove him so mad that his hands actually began to shake. Oh, God… what was he going to do?
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 57
