The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  The hall was alive with light and music and people were everywhere, eating and milling about. She heard laughter and shouting and witnessed a particularly eager soldier pinch a serving wench right on the bottom. It struck her funny and she smiled. Somehow, all dining halls were the filled with the same sort of people; how many times had she seen that within the hall of Langton? For some reason, she felt a bit more at home.

  Deinwald and Michael were waiting outside the door and saw them approach. Deinwald beat Michael to Jordan’s side and gave the man a cocky smirk as Michael stepped behind him and took his place at Jemma’s side. Michael put his fingers together and flicked Deinwald’s ear, and the man flinched with a muted curse. William shot him a look to kill and both knights were immediately still.

  The earl’s crier was just inside the door and noted her arrival. Tipping his head to the herald trumpet on the balcony above the door, a sudden horn blast pierced the room and everyone ceased their activity and looked eagerly to the door. This moment had been three long months in the making, the introduction of the earl’s new Scot bride. Expectations were high.

  William leaned close to her ear. “Do not be nervous. They will love you.”

  She tried to smile but her lips were quivering with anxiety. The crier began to name her, listing her father and his title. The Lady Jordan Mary Joseph Scott, daughter of Laird Thomas Scott of Clan Scott. The hall was deathly quiet by the time he finished, waiting to see the source of their curiosity. Much to her dismay, William let go of her arm and she looked up at him in alarm.

  “You must go alone, my lady,” he told her. “We will follow close behind.”

  Oh… damnation, Jordan thought and swallowed hard. She did not want to do this alone.

  “Show ’em what yer made of, Jordi,” Jemma whispered encouragingly behind her. “Yer a Scott.”

  Her back straightened. She was indeed. Terrified or no, she would be the epitome of calm dignity even if her palms were sweating profusely.

  “It’s time, my lady,” Deinwald leaned down. “Go ahead.”

  She didn’t hesitate. She carried herself with such regal grace that William swore he heard an audible gasp from the crowd. Truth was, she looked like a fairy princess as she floated across the floor, right down the middle of the room as she headed for the dais where de Longley and his subjects sat.

  William and Deinwald were not far behind her, trying hard not to watch her swaying backside. De Longley, given his first good look at his new bride, looked like a man who had been without food far too long. His interest was obvious, and William felt himself bristle. God help him, he could not stand the thought of anyone touching Jordan… not even her husband.

  Jordan reached the dais and curtsied deeply. When she rose, she stood proudly before the table and waited for her betrothed to speak to her.

  The earl cleared his throat. “Lady Jordan, welcome to Northwood.”

  “Thank ye, sire,” she replied.

  To his left, a young plain girl tittered, whispering something to thin young man sitting next to her and they giggled impolitely. Jordan had expected open rudeness, but she still felt her cheeks grow hot. The earl ignored the laughter.

  “Please,” he indicated the chair next to him. “Come and sit, and I will introduce you to your new family.”

  William took her hand on his forearm and led her to the seat the earl had indicated, on his right hand. Jemma followed and was seated several chairs down. The rest of the knights, save Paris and William, sat directly below the dais at one of the large, lengthy tables.

  Jordan smiled her thanks to William, who returned nothing more than a bow of his head and seated himself directly next to her. Politely, she turned her attention back to the earl.

  The fat, flushed man with bad skin was looking her over like a prize mare. Jordan felt a little self-conscious at the scrutiny and tried not to return his stare. Instead, she kept her gaze lowered and waited for him to finish.

  “I had no idea you would be so lovely,” the earl finally said.

  Jordan did not know how to respond. Fortunately, he did not expect an answer.

  “I only caught a glimpse of you in the bailey this afternoon, due to the unfortunate circumstances,” he went on. “I trust you have suffered no ill effects.”

  “Nay, sire,” she replied. “Yer physician tended me and I am fine now.”

  “Good,” De Longley replied. “Then allow me to introduce you to the rest of my family.” He turned in his seat and indicated the man seated directly next to him. “This is my eldest son, Alexander, Viscount Tarlinby.”

  Alexander de Longley was a thin version of his father, with protruding teeth and a receding hair line although he could not have been more than four or five years older than Jordan. He gazed back indifferently, bored even.

  “My lord,” Jordan nodded her head.

  He looked away, finding the activities of the room more interesting than meeting his future stepmother.

  The earl continued rapidly. “This lovely creature sitting next to him is my daughter, the Lady Analiese.”

  Jordan was face to face with the plain girl who had laughed. She was pale, blond, and nondescript. “My lady,” she said nicely.

  The girl’s eyes narrowed as if she had been uproariously challenged by the simple greeting. Jordan felt the open hostility like a slap in the face.

  “I hope our food is to your liking here,” Analiese said thinly. “I heard that Scots eat nothing but human flesh, so I fear than you may not appreciate the civility of our cuisine.”

  Jordan saw a petty, vain, spoiled child in front of her. She knew she could be as sweet as honey and never see any results. Women such as Analiese understood bickering and quarreling instead of kindness, plus the fact that she hated Jordan simply because she was Scot was indicative of that nature.

  Jordan knew she should let it slide, but she could not. She had to let Analiese know from the beginning just who she toyed with.

  “Yer witch’s cauldron has been feeding ye false information, Lady Analiese. We Scots stopped eating human flesh about the same time as the Angles did.” She smiled sweetly at her.

  The earl coughed. Alexander’s head snapped to Jordan in defense of his sister, but Analiese was rising to the occasion.

  “You little bitch,” she snarled. “How dare you insult me!”

  “Sit down,” her father commanded. “ ’Twas you who started the insults, daughter, and you will take heed what you call the future countess or the next transgression against you will be my hand to your backside.”

  Analiese promptly sat, seething hatred at Jordan. Jordan was the image of congeniality in return.

  The earl tried not to let the exchange dampen his presentation. “And this fine young lad is my youngest son, Adam, newly return from fostering at Beverley Castle.”

  Adam de Longley was a beautiful, well-mannered boy. He was tall and lithely muscular with a crown of gorgeous golden-red hair and big, droopy blue eyes. He stood and bowed gallantly to Jordan, and she instantly liked him.

  The earl was obviously very proud of the boy. He simply beamed at him. “I have not seen my youngest since he was eight, and here he is all grown before me,” he said. “He has completed his knight training at Beverley but wished to come home to serve his father. His knighting ceremony will be in a few days.”

  Jordan smiled at the soon-to-be knight. “Ye must be very proud of him, sire,” she said. “Who will officiate the knighting ceremony?”

  “Adam asked that William preside over the service and induct him into the brotherhood,” the earl replied. “Quite an honor for my captain.”

  Jordan knew women were banned from such ceremonies, but she wished she could watch as William initiated the boy.

  “Indeed it is,” she glanced at William. “But isna it traditional for the knight’s teacher to receive him into the knighthood? Such as his instructor at Beverley?”

  “Usually, my lady,” William answered for the earl. “But Adam requested th
at I conduct the ceremony because of his desire to serve Northwood, not Beverley. The captain of Beverley, being a personal friend of mine, agreed.”

  “You have knowledge of knighthood, Lady Jordan?” It was Alexander, speaking in his high-pitched and effeminate voice. “How is it that you have come to know the intricacies? Did, mayhap, a knight teach you? Or did you hear him when he talked in his sleep?”

  A deeply insulting remark that was met with dead silence. Alexander settled back in his chair with a satisfied smirk, not really expecting an answer. Analiese leaned over to him and whispered something into his ear, causing them both to chuckle.

  Jordan felt as if she wanted to burst into hot, angry tears but she controlled herself. She would give the bastard no indication of just how deeply he had hurt her. She did not see William’s vein throbbing in his temple or the clench of his jaw, nor did she see the flush in Paris’ neck. She saw only the trencher and the food that cooled in it, trying desperately to prepare an answer that did not reveal her feelings.

  “How would ye know what knights say in their sleep?” God help them all, it was Jemma. She was standing up so as to better see who she was about to insult. “Unless, of course, ye speak from personal experience. Since ye arna a knight yerself, can I assume ye’re married to one?”

  Jordan swore she heard a collective groan go up between William and Paris. She snapped her head in Jemma’s direction to shoot her a quelling look and was preparing a fast apology even as Alexander sat bolt-upright in his chair.

  “Who is this… this creature?” he demanded in outrage.

  The earl could see the explosion coming and put his arms out as if to embrace everyone at the table to calm them. Analiese shot out of her chair and began screeching insults in Jemma’s direction, though Jordan did not hear one word she said. She was quickly slipping into misery with the fact that their first meal together was not going at all well.

  “Everyone, sit, please,” the earl ordered evenly. “Let us sit and conduct this evening civilly.”

  “Sire, this is my cousin and lady-in-waiting, Jemma Scott,” Jordan said rapidly. “She has had a busy day of it and is feeling quite fatigued, hence her unruly tongue. I will excuse her now to prepare my chamber, if it pleases ye.”

  “She will not leave until I have thrashed her within an inch of her worthless life.” Analiese exclaimed loudly.

  “Ha!” Jemma was livid. “Ye pasty-faced English wench, I’d like to see ye try and lay a hand on me.”

  Control was slipping away rapidly. Jordan did not know what to do with her cousin and future step-daughter raging out of control. If she thought slapping them both would restore calm, then she would have gladly done so. But as she was struggling for a solution, she remembered who sat at her right.

  “William…?” she turned pleadingly to him, putting her hand on his arm. “Please…?”

  He was between great anger and great amusement, waiting with growing impatience for the earl to demand him into action. He heard her call his name, saw the look in her eyes, and decided to wait no longer. As he was rising, the earl jabbed a finger at him.

  “William, take that woman to the cellar until she can learn manners. I will not have her publicly insulting my flesh,” he said, then turned his attention to his elder son and daughter. “If you two cannot be civilized to Lady Jordan, then you will take all meals in your room until you can learn how to behave. I will hear no more of this. Is that understood?”

  Alexander barely nodded. Analiese put her hands on her slim hips.

  “Is that all you are going to do to her?” she demanded. “I want her flogged.”

  Jordan gasped and she knew she had gone pale. After what she had seen this afternoon she knew the earl to be a harshly decisive man. Terror filled her.

  “Sire,” she said as calmly as she could. “Lady Jemma is not the disrespectful sort. She is simply overwrought with fatigue and I beg my lord to be merciful with her. I would consider it a great, great favor.”

  The earl looked at her, passing a glance at Jemma as William firmly escorted her from the room. He found himself utterly entranced by the most beautiful face, he was sure, in all of England.

  “My lady,” he said after a moment. “I cannot allow such an infraction to go unpunished. You will forgive me if I cannot grant your request.”

  Jordan sat back heavily in her chair when he turned away, struggling to maintain her composure. She was shocked and angered by the seeming coldness of the earl and absolutely terrified for Jemma.

  “My lord,” she said lowly but firmly enough to make him turn to her. “I insulted your daughter, too. Whatever punishment ye choose for Jemma, ye must administer it to me as well. She was only defending me.”

  “Are you responsible for her actions as well?” he asked, not unkindly.

  “Aye,” she nodded with a faint, ironic smile. “I am. I brought her here.”

  He regarded her. “She is not of your station, Lady Jordan, and whereas I may oversight your remarks, I cannot oversight hers.”

  Jordan’s chin went up. “ ’Twere ye to punish her, ye must punish me also, sire. We are blood cousins and, therefore, indeed of the same station. I am not the countess; yet.”

  The earl did not look pleased. He tried to match her gaze but could not, instead, looking off into the room.

  “You leave me with little choice in the matter,” he replied, then gestured to her trencher. “Please eat. This meal has been prepared especially for you.”

  She obeyed and tried not to vomit as the food slid into her trembling stomach. Dinner progressed quietly from that point on. Analiese and Alexander talked quietly between themselves, the only conversation. Four minstrels in the corner filled the hall with soft music and the smell of smoke from the massive hearth was sharp.

  Jordan, with no one to talk to, ate quietly and glanced about the room with interest. She was disturbed to see that Kieran, sitting several feet away, was dark and brooding. She wished she could speak to him but dare not try.

  “Is the beef to your liking?” Paris asked.

  She turned to look at him, having completely forgotten he was a chair away. He smiled warmly at her. She smiled back.

  “Aye,” she replied. “ ’Tis most tender.”

  “ ’Tis our very own beef, raised by the earl himself.”

  Someone sat between them. She looked up to see William reseating himself and he reached out to take his wine cup.

  She stared at him, watching every move he made but not saying a word. She waited for him to tell her about Jemma until she was near exploding with anxiety. He had yet to even look at her.

  “Finish your dinner, my lady,” he told her, still averting his eyes.

  She did not reply. Instead, she sat back in the chair and looked away from him. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

  When dinner was over, the minstrels sang several ballads for the group. They were Scot musicians and Jordan was suddenly very homesick again. When they sang a sweet Scot lullaby, she dissolved in quiet tears. Under the table, she felt William squeeze her knee gently and it nearly did her in.

  He had been so distant the entire meal that she feared he’d had enough of her and her loud-mouth cousin, and the acknowledgement was exactly what she needed. She wanted to look at him but was afraid to.

  The musicians, knowing she was Scot, suddenly appeared before her. The leader, a ruddy man with thick legs, beckoned eagerly to her.

  “Aye, wha’ a bonnie lass we hae here!” he exclaimed. “Can ye sing, lass?”

  Jordan’s face went red. “Aye…a bit.”

  The musician laughed. “Then can ye dance?”

  She lowered her head, looking at him from beneath her lashes. “Like the devil, but not in front of the whole bloody room.”

  That drew a laugh from the earl and Adam, as well as the earl’s steward sitting at the far side of the table.

  “Come on, then,” the musician would not be discouraged. “We’ll get ye the swords, lass. ’Tis been a long
time since we hae seen a lass as pretty as ye.”

  Jordan was mortified at their request. But the earl liked it.

  “Dance for me, my lady,” he said. “I command it.”

  “Truly, sire, I canna in this dress,” she begged off, terrified. “ ’Tis far too long and I would break my neck.”

  “But ye can sing?” the musician pushed.

  She would have liked to have slugged the man for his persistence and could not ward off the scowl on her face.

  “She can sing,” William was casually observing his cup. “I have heard her.”

  She looked at William, wondering when he had heard her sing. Before the earl could command her to do it, Analiese rose demurely from her chair.

  “I can sing, Father,” she announced mildly. “I shall do it.”

  She went to the musicians and told them what to play. Her voice was thin and high-pitched and occasionally she would hit a sour note but, undaunted, Analiese sang four songs for the crowd that was growing quite bored.

  Jordan sat attentively, trying to make up for the bad start they’d had earlier. When Analiese had finished, she applauded loudly.

  “Now,” the earl turned to her before his daughter had even regained her seat. “You will sing.”

  Jordan stood begrudgingly and made her way to the musicians. She had sung before her clan many times, but this English crowd was unfamiliar and she hoped she would not make a fool of herself. After a brief conversation with the minstrels, she turned to face the room half-full of family and soldiers.

  William was watching her like a hawk. She was so poised and lovely, standing like an angel the way the dress was swathed about her body. Her luscious hair came over her right shoulder, spilling over her full breasts and hanging in waves to her waist. He should not have been thinking the perfectly seductive things he was thinking, but he could not help himself.

  The music began and the room went silent. Jordan’s voice filled the air as rich and pure as a heady spring breeze. She sang a Gaelic song, her lilt sweet and charming and her voice clearly one that was superior to anything anyone in the room had ever experienced. She could manipulate a note so precisely that it left one breathless with delight, waiting for the next phrase with relish in a brief few moments. She had managed to captivate a room of people without any effort at all.