As William was gripped with turmoil, Jordan was actually enjoying the ride even if she was not sitting with William’s strong arm around her. The countryside was starting to level out a bit, the sharp hills rounding off and dipping into beautiful valleys. Patches of wildflowers were everywhere, filling the air with their warm scent.
Jordan had never been this far south before and thought it was lovely. She wondered what Northwood would look like; would it sit in one of those lovely valleys she had seen or did it sit on a hill watching over the fields below? She would have asked, but she did not want to make conversation. William seemed to discourage it in the ranks and she did not want to rouse his ire.
The army rounded a crest of a hill and suddenly she was confronted by millions of wildly blooming flowers, in every color and shape imaginable. It was a wonderful, magnificent sight and she knew she had to have some.
“Stop, Paris.” she ordered eagerly.
He jerked the animal to a halt. “What is it?”
Her answer was to slither off the horse before he could grab her. Suddenly, she was running like a rabbit, tearing down the road with her skirts hiked up around her knees. Before any of the men could recover their shock, Jemma was down and racing after her.
The destriers, startled by the sudden movement and the squeals began to dance about in anticipation of what was to come. With their riders tensing above them, they sensed a battle.
William knew they could not possibly be attempting to escape but found himself thoroughly confused by their irrational behavior.
“What in the hell….?” he finished his sentence by spurring his horse after them.
Paris, Jason, Kieran and Michael followed him, leaving Ranulf and Deinwald shouting the column to a halt. William was nearly on top of Jordan when she suddenly veered off the road and plunged down a small incline, feet first into waist-high flowers. With a cry of delight, she began yanking every bloom within her reach.
He bound off his horse and stood there, hands on his hips and watching with disbelief. He pushed his helmet up so that the chin guard was resting on his forehead and scowled as rivulets of sweat ran down his face.
“Of all of the…,” he muttered irritably. “Flowers?”
Jordan swung around to him, her arms loaded with flowers and her face broke into a radiant smile. She was ecstatic.
“Are they not beautiful?” she demanded. “I must have all that I can gather.”
She ran at him and thrust the flowers against his chest. He instinctively slapped a hand over them to keep them from falling to the ground yet at the same time realizing he must look like a complete fool. He opened his mouth to harshly reprimand her when she bound away from him once again, darting off like a nymph and filling her arms with more flowers.
How could he be stern with her when she was so damn happy? He could not, and found himself even angrier, but now with himself. Out of the corner of his eye he caught his knights shaking with laughter. Paris had his head turned, but he could see his shoulders convulsing. Well, he would not be alone in his humiliation.
“Paris.” he boomed. “Do not just stand there like a dolt, help her.”
Paris’ head snapped to him, the mirth draining from his face. “Why me?”
“Do not argue with me,” William snapped, marching by him and shoving his burden into the arms of his second. “You, Kieran. Get the hell off that animal and help Lady Jemma. By damn, hurry up and we shall be done with this nonsense.”
Paris turned to yell at William as he walked away. “I am a knight of the realm,” he said staunchly. “I do not pick posies.”
William turned around and jabbed a big finger at him. “You’ll goddamn wear a dress if I wish it. Now, go and help her.”
Behind the huge bouquet she held, Jordan smiled broadly. She could hear William barking orders at his knights to give the ladies a hand, muttering angrily as he made his way back to his destrier. She inhaled the blooms deeply; ah, the sweet smell of humiliation.
Jemma was beside her, her face and torso nearly obscured by all of the flowers she held. She continued to pick, grinning wickedly.
“He is as angry as sin,” she whispered delightedly.
“Aye,” Jordan agreed, fighting off the giggles. “Do ye remember that bet I made with ye last night?”
Jemma nodded vehemently. “Aye, I do, and ye have won it. Ye were right when ye said he would do anything ye asked.”
Jordan picked a huge yellow flower. “I intend to ask him one more thing.”
Now Jemma looked at her cousin. “As mad as he is? He will take yer head off.”
Jordan wiggled her eyebrows. “He will not.”
“What will ye bet?” Jemma asked. “I have nothing more to wager, ye already demanded that I be nice to Paris.”
Jordan was grinning mischievously. “If I win my bet, then ye have to ride with Paris for the remainder of the journey.”
“Nay.” Jemma looked thoroughly disappointed. “I want to ride with Kieran.”
“All right, then,” Jordan knew Jemma like Kieran. He was all she could speak of when they were dressing earlier. “Then…then ye have to give Paris a big, sloppy kiss.”
Jemma’s mouth opened into a big “O” of astonishment. “I would rather kiss a horse.” she declared.
Jordan was firm. She went back to her flowers. “That is the price.”
Jemma pouted. “Can I kiss Kieran?” she asked hopefully.
Jordan chewed her lip and grinned. “Nay. It must be Paris.”
Jemma looked stricken, as if Jordan had just asked her to kiss a troll. “Oh, very well, ye blood-thirsty wench.”
“In front of everyone,” Jordan insisted.
“I said I would.” Her cousin made an irritable face, disgruntled she was getting the bad end of the bet. “But what about ye? If he doesna do what ye ask, then I will demand a high price.”
“What?” Jordan was very suspicious.
Jemma’s eyes twinkled sinisterly. “I say ye have to kiss the big knight, Sir Michael.”
Jordan winced. “Ooch, Jemma, that is likely to draw the captain’s wrath. I canna do it.”
Jemma made a wry face. “Ye’re probably right on that account. Well, have no doubt, I shall think of something for ye, then.”
Jordan was feeling daring. “Fine, then. The line has been drawn.”
Paris was standing several feet behind her, not looking the least bit happy. She smiled sweetly at him as she walked passed and promptly shoved the flowers she was holding into Michael’s bulky arms.
“I am finished.” she announced.
Grudgingly, the knights bearing the most embarrassing cargo trudged to the back of the column where Jordan’s wagons and maids were. It was grossly humiliating for them to be seen by the entire company laden with flowers. She heard the older ones bellowing at the younger knights, making sure they shouldered their fair share of the disgrace, and the arguments that ensued.
Jordan did not so much as give them a glance as she made her way to where William sat like a centaur atop his destrier, watching the fold of events. His helmet was on and his visor was down and she was suddenly unsure of herself. Sweet Jesu,’ he looked imposing. Mayhap Jemma was right; mayhap he would take her head off.
She had intended to be demanding, but rapidly changed her mind. Timidly, she approached him.
“Sir knight?” she asked sweetly. “Might I speak with ye?”
He was looking down at her. The only way she could tell was because his helmet had tipped in her direction.
“Aye, my lady,” he replied, calm and controlled once more. “What is it?”
She started to speak but her words got twisted. She began to wring her hands, half-hoping he would feel sorry for her because he was making her nervous. She wished he’d get down off his horse, but when he didn’t budge, she went over reluctantly until she stood so close his leg brushed her. She turned her face up to him.
“I dunna want to ride with Paris anymore,” she said softl
y.
The frightening helmet looked down at her. “Why not?”
His voice was not at all kind as she had hoped it would become. Mayhap this wasn’t such a good idea. After all, he was plenty angry with her; he’d made that clear by ignoring her all morning. And with this latest episode, he was probably ready to throttle her. Frustrated, she shook her head hard and abruptly turned away from him.
Her intention was to make her way over to Paris’ horse as she saw he was preparing to mount. But she heard hooves behind her and felt herself being lifted up, knowing that it was William. As he settled her in front of him, she tried hard not to smile. Mayhap he wasn’t too terribly mad, after all.
Over her shoulder, she knew Jemma was cursing a blue streak. To kiss Paris was not a desirable prospect.
Flowers stowed, the company continued on and William remained silent. Jordan snuggled back against him, simply happy to be sitting with him again. His charger had a smooth gait and she was enjoying the ride, and the weather, tremendously.
As time passed, she began to feel famished and wondered if they would even stop for the nooning meal, considering William wanted to reach Northwood by the afternoon. Probably not, she concluded, letting out a heavy sigh; she would have liked to have stopped at least once more to freshen herself.
The army did indeed stop nearly three hours later. William had decided, in spite of everything, that they would easily make it to Northwood before dusk and therefore he felt there was time to break for a meal. He ordered the bread, cheese, and wine be broken out and sent two riders ahead to notify Lord de Longley of their imminent approach.
He slid off the horse, removing his helmet with a grunt of satisfaction and pulled off his gauntlets. Jordan still sat in the saddle, looking down at him. Even plastered with sweat and with a black shadow of stubble, he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
She noticed something else, too, that had never occurred to her before. He had a long, thin scar that ran from his left ear and down his neck. Part of his earlobe was missing. Strange that she had only discovered it now and she wondered how it happened. He looked up at her, jolting her from her train of thought.
“How did that happen to yer ear?” she blurted.
He stowed his helm. “Another squire did that to me when I was twelve,” he replied. “We were practicing with swords we should not have been using and he went out of control.”
Her green eyes were filled with sympathy. “He coulda cut yer head off.”
He reached up and lifted her from his horse. “There is a stream over there.”
She felt rejected that he did not want to talk to her, nor was he planning on escorting her to the stream. But instead of wallowing in self-pity, it made her mad.
She marched over to Paris’ horse and practically tore her satchel loose from its bindings. With a toss of her hair to no one in particular, she strode over to the stream where Jemma was already dipping her handkerchief in the cold water. Standing a silent guard several feet away were Corin and Lewis.
“Well, ye won the bet,” Jemma said first. “When do ye want me to kiss Paris?”
Jordan lifted her skirt and sank gracefully to the grass, giving the young knights a tantalizing view of her pretty legs.
“I care not,” she said irritably. “Punch him in the nose for all I care.”
Jemma put the cold water to her cheeks. “What in the world is the matter with ye?”
Jordan looked at her cousin. She almost told her what was truly bothering her, but changed her mind at the last second. She stuck out her lip and dug into her satchel for her own handkerchief.
“Nothing,” she said.
Jemma didn’t believe her for a moment. “Has that English hound said something to ye? Has he insulted ye?”
“Nay,” Jordan told her. “I am simply tired. And hungry. Where is our food?”
They refreshed themselves, careful not to drip water on their dresses. Neither girl said anything for a few moments.
“Look, Jordan, at those pretty flowers over there,” Jemma suddenly said. “Let me weave them into yer hair.”
Jordan only shrugged but it was good enough for Jemma. She plucked two huge handfuls.
“These will go beautifully with yer dress,” she told Jordan.
Jordan sat broodingly while Jemma wove a delicate wreath into her silky hair. It was actually quite stunning, but Jordan was too depressed to notice. When she was finished, she took out the hand-mirror for her cousin to see.
“Look.” she commanded.
Jordan glanced at herself. Instead of seeing a beautiful young woman, she only noticed that her skin was beginning to burn and she bolted up.
“Sweet Jesu!’” She exclaimed. “Why dinna ye tell me I was turning red like a beet. Look at my skin.”
Jemma pulled back her cousin’s hair to notice that, indeed, she was burned. “Ooch.” she cried. “Does it hurt?”
“Nay, but it will,” Jordan wailed. “Look at me. I am ruined.”
“We will get some buttermilk,” Jemma told her. “That will bleach it out.”
“But not before we reach Northwood.” Jordan exploded and threw the mirror. It landed with a splash in the creek but she didn’t hear it; she was too busy marching away towards the coolness of the trees.
“Well, ye dunna have to get angry with me.” Jemma yelled after her. “I was not the one who burned ye.”
William was standing with Kieran and Michael and saw the exchange. Another fight, he told himself. God, those two had the strangest relationship he had ever seen, wanting to kill each other one minute and defending each other the next. He supposed he should go and calm Jordan down. It would not do to have a hysterical, red-eyed bride delivered to Northwood.
Paris was heading over to Jemma with a parcel of food in his hand meant for both ladies. William dismissed his knights and went to join him.
“What happened to Jordan?” Paris asked.
“I do not know.” William could see her standing in the trees.
They were still several feet away from Jemma. Paris smirked in her direction. “It’s that witch again. She can turn a perfectly sweet woman into a raving lunatic. She has the power of possession, I tell you.”
William shook his head, not answering. Paris could see where William’s eyes were focused.
“You are avoiding her today,” Paris said softly.
William shrugged. “I have other things on my mind.”
They had reached Jemma. She scowled up at Paris and he made a face back at her.
“If you do not behave, I shall take this food back,” he warned her.
She snatched the cloth away from him. “Give me that.”
In spite of what he said about her, Paris was beginning to like Jemma. She reacted exactly the way he wanted her to and it greatly amused him. He wondered if her hostility towards him was real.
“Now that is not all for you, though I am sure you would make a fine glutton,” he told her. “You must share with your cousin.”
She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed uproariously.
William dug his hand into the cloth and withdrew a piece of black bread and a hunk of white cheese. Without a word he walked across the clearing to where Jordan was standing in the shade.
She was crying. He could hear her sniffle and watched her hastily wipe her eyes when she realized he was standing there.
“What do ye want?” she demanded.
He cocked an eyebrow. “I have brought your nooning meal,” he replied. “I can just as easily take it back.”
“Then take it back,” she snapped.
He didn’t move. It was unlike her to be so abrasive and he let it go.
“What did Jemma say to you to get you in such a fine mood?” he asked.
“Nothing, English,” she said quietly. “Just…leave me be.”
He ignored her request. Reaching out, he took her by the hand and led her over to a large boulder where he sat her down and held the bread out to he
r. She eyed it stubbornly for a moment before accepting it and taking a healthy bite. She ate half of it before he spoke to her again.
“Now tell me what is wrong,” he commanded softly.
What could she tell him? That her whole morning had been filled with a myriad of emotions, on top of the fact that she was to meet her new bridegroom today? And now, to finish everything, she was sun-burned? When she repeated it all in her head, she felt foolish. If she told him he would probably think she was an idiot.
“I….my skin is burned,” she finally said.
He fought off a smile, “Is that all? Let me see.”
She tilted her head up, revealing a neck and shoulders so creamy and delicious that he had to fight himself to keep from plunging his face into the softness. But he did touch her, just to see how pink she was.
“That’s nothing,” he said. His voice was rich and soothing, husky to the point of seductiveness. “Why, I could not even tell had you not told me. I shall retrieve your cloak and that will protect you.”
She eyed him for a moment until he was almost uncomfortable with her stare. Before he could ask why she was looking at him so, she shook her head.
“What is it with ye?” she demanded softly, as if not really expecting an answer. “Ye are the most confusing person I have ever met.”
His brows drew together. “Me? Why do you say that?”
She felt like spouting off at him. Her emotions had been running so daft the past three days that she felt like telling him everything he had done to make her so baffled that she didn’t know her own name half the time. Mayhap she should not be so vocal, but she did not care at the moment. Mayhap after she was done there would be time to be embarrassed.
“I shall tell ye why.” She hopped off the boulder and put down the cheese, putting her hands on her hips as she faced him. “Ye’re driving me insane with yer moods and yer actions. In front of yer men ye’re a harsh, cold man who looks at me as if I were a leper. But when we’re alone ye are the kindest of souls and I feel safe with ye.” She moved closer to him and lowered her voice. “I have slept in yer arms for two nights now, English, and I would be lying if I said that there were sweeter things in heaven and earth than that. But I canna fathom yer thoughts and I feel sick to my stomach all of the time because ye make me daft.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 58
