“I dunna wish to walk anymore,” she explained with embittered control. “I would return to my rooms.”
He continued to gaze impassively at her. “I will gladly return you after you accompany me.”
He was fueling her anger. “I have no wish to accompany a man who openly insults my heritage and then refuses to apologize.”
She heard him sigh sharply. “Jordan, do not fight with me. Just do as I ask. Walk with me.”
She considered balking once again, but relented reluctantly and together they walked across the compound, through the inner gates and into the outer bailey.
He led her outside the great wall of Northwood, across the drawbridge that lay over the stinking moat. She tried not to look at the sludge when they passed over for fear she would see something that would cause her to lose her recently eaten cheese. She briefly wondered if he were taking her far away so he could yell his head off and no one would hear him.
He took her elbow and led her through a bank of trees and across a small field to a lovely little lake. The smell of wildflowers were thick in the warm air and she could feel sweat beading on her back from the humidity.
He let go of her and walked to the edge of the lake, taking in the scenery. He was trying to think of a way to delicately phrase the news he bore, but had come to the unalterable conclusion that there was no easy way. She was already riled, which didn’t make matters easier on him.
“There is no simple way to put this, Jordan, so I must tell you bluntly,” he said finally. “I have just come from a meeting with the earl, the viscount, and Analiese. They have decided that Northwood would be better off without Jemma within its walls.”
Jordan’s anger fled, the void filled by complete horror. Her face went white. “What are ye saying, English? They mean to kill her?”
He turned to her. “Nay,” he assured her. “They simply mean to send her back to Langton. ’Twas a compromise of the earl’s choosing; Analiese still wanted her flogged but relented under the condition that Jemma be sent back to Scotland.”
Jordan was overwhelmed. “How can that bitch still be concerned over the events of last night?” she demanded. “She started it, all of it, yet Jemma is being punished? ’Tis not fair.”
“Jemma is not the earl’s daughter,” he replied quietly.
Jordan’s face was a mask of disbelief and anguish. She simply stared at him as if she could not believe what she was hearing.
He gazed back at him, compassion filling his eyes. “I am sorry, love. I really am. I tried to defend her.”
“Then there is nothing I can do?” she begged quietly. “Nothing I can say that would change his mind?”
William shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “He is set. She leaves on the morrow.”
She looked away from him, turning back to the lake but not seeing it. She was completely flabbergasted.
“I shall be all alone,” she murmured.
“You will not,” he said firmly. “You will have me.”
She looked at him, knowing he meant well. But he did not understand.
“She is more than my cousin and my lady-in-waiting,” Jordan insisted softly. “She is Scot. She is the only other Scot for miles. We have been together since we were bairns, English, and I dunna want to give her up, not now. And she and….” she trailed off, unsure if she should verbalize her thoughts further.
He came to her. “I am listening. Continue.”
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, then put her hand on his arm. “Only when ye send her home…have Kieran take her.”
He understood all too well and realized that he would be dealing with another matter of the heart when he informed Kieran of the orders. God, why did everything have to be so damn complicated?
She was watching him, her mind wandering from Jemma to her encounter with William last night. He seemed to be returning to the William she loved, not the captain who irritated the hell out of her.
“Do ye have any regrets?” she asked softly.
He looked confused. “About what?”
“Last night,” she whispered.
The change that came over his face was miraculous and her heart was filled with a wild sense of happiness. She knew instantly that all of her worries were for naught.
“Nay,” he whispered. “And you?”
She shook her head. “Never. For as long as I live.”
He smiled gently. “I could hardly sleep last night. I have grown accustomed to holding you and it was not the same at all. I fear I shall face many nights like that.”
“I slept, but I must confess I was disappointed not to awaken to yer face,” she said. “Is that why ye were so harsh on yer knights? Because ye had no sleep?”
“Hardly,” his stiff demeanor returned. “I was harsh with them because they were sorely neglecting their duties to follow you around like dogs going after a bitch in heat.”
She scowled at him. “What an awful thing to say.”
“ ’Tis the truth of it,” he insisted, then his eyes trailed to her surcoat. “You look delicious in that dress. In fact, it is an almost indecent dress the way it clings to you.”
She’d never given that aspect any thought. Bewildered, she looked down at herself. “ ’Tis my favorite dress.”
“And mine,” he said with a cock of his brow. “In fact, it emphasizes your magnificent figure to the point of distraction.”
Her head came up and her eyes narrowed at him. “Is that what ye think? That I dressed a-purpose this way to distract yer knights?”
He gave her an impatient look. “I think no such thing. However, even if you did not mean to, you had my knights acting like stud stallions. I was harsh with them because they knew better. They acted as if they had never seen a beautiful woman before.”
She looked at him a moment, studying his features as he spoke. Then her eyes narrowed and she gave him a crooked smile.
“Ye were jealous,” she accused.
His face hardened. “That’s ridiculous, Jordan.”
“So ye were not jealous?” she demanded, insulted. “Look me in the eye, English, and tell me that ye were not consumed with jealousy when ye saw yer knights trailing after me. Tell me.”
He looked her right in the eye. He tried to force himself to deny it, but he realized that he could not. She was right; of course. He had been jealous. He hadn’t understood that until this very moment. He’d probably noticed it at the beginning but convinced himself that it was not a contributing factor to his anger.
When he didn’t answer right away a slow smile crept onto her lips. He saw it and it inflamed him. With a muttered curse, he pulled her against him and descended on her lips in a bruising kiss. She giggled as his mouth came down on her again and again, sucking the breath right out of her.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked huskily.
She smiled a victorious, seductive smile. “Ye were jealous,” she repeated because she could scarcely believe it.
He rolled his eyes and buried his face in her neck. “Oh, very well, I was indeed,” he snapped without force. “Next time I shall dispense with the punishment and simply kill the bastards.”
She laughed jubilantly, closing her eyes at his passionate touch. His hot tongue was licking, probing, tasting until she was gasping with arousal. His mouth was making her mad, his hands driving her wild as they caressed her breasts firmly. A slow warmth was spreading through her limbs and she knew she had to have him now or die.
“Now, English,” she said raggedly, licking his ear. “Can we… can we do what we did last night?”
He groaned low. Latching onto her hot mouth, he gathered her into his arms and disappeared into the cover of the trees.
She did not know how long he had been kissing her or how far he had walked until he set her down and pushed her against a tree. His breeches went down around his knees and her skirts went up around her waist. Lifting her up, he braced her back against the trunk and drove hard into her. Jordan cr
ied out and he immediately stopped.
“My God, Jordan, I have hurt you,” he breathed. “I should have been mindful that…,”
She put her fingers over his mouth. “Nay, love, ye dinna hurt me,” she murmured. “ ’Twas my passion answering yers.”
He studied her face hesitantly as if he did not believe her until she smiled and began to kiss him as she had never kissed him before.
He pounded into her, scraping her back against the tree bark but she did not feel it. Even if she was a bit sore, she was consumed with the scalding friction he was creating, the erotic sensations he was causing to happen within her. She clung to him, the sweetness of him filling her, his power overwhelming.
She was so aroused that her passion peaked quickly and when he felt her throbbing begin, he could not help but answer with his own. His hands were squeezing her buttocks, pulling her against him, driving in as far as he could go as he released his seed deep into her womb with a grunt of satisfaction.
His face was buried in her neck and her arms were tight about his head. They stayed in that position for a small eternity as birds sang overhead and wind softly whistled in the trees, heart rates slowing and the feeling of bliss covering them like a blanket.
Jordan was completely content. She wished they could remain as they were forever, with no earl, no Northwood, no England and no Scotland. She didn’t want to share him with anyone or anything. She had found her life and her love and knew she would not be content to settle for anything less. She wondered in the years ahead how strong her sense of duty would be to prevent her from casting everything aside and running away with him.
Her legs were cramping and she shifted a little. William pulled his face from her neck, his gaze devouring her. She smiled and ran her hands along his stubbled jaw.
“God, you drive me insane with desire,” he said huskily. “I should not have taken you so roughly.”
She flashed her white teeth. “I dinna mind, English.”
It didn’t matter that she was completely new to the world of intercourse; all she knew was that she liked it. She liked the way he made her feel.
He kissed her once, twice, and let her gently slide to the ground. He fastened his breeches quickly and helped her with her dress, picking pieces of bark off her back.
“We must go back lest someone comes looking for us,” William said regretfully.
He took her arm and they began to walk back toward the road. As soon as they broke through the trees they were met by several peasants preparing to go into the woods and do some hunting. William said a silent prayer at their sense of timing, passing Jordan a glance that reflected her very thoughts.
There was more traffic on the road in and out of Northwood than there had been earlier and Jordan curiously observed the people, the comings and the goings. Whereas Langton fairly remained closed most of the time, Northwood kept her gates open and did a good deal of business. She was intrigued.
“With Jemma gone, I will not have a lady-in-waiting,” she broached their previous subject, hoping that if she pleaded enough he would approach the earl on her behalf. She truly wanted her cousin at her side, now more than ever.
“The earl is sending to London for a lady from the queen,” he told her. “Since you are to become an English countess, he feels that a court lady will be able to help you with the intricacies of such a life. Jemma would be no help to you there.”
Jordan looked surprised. “I dunna want a court lady,” she said insistently. “Those pasty-faced wenches with their stiff dresses and their kissing diseases. I want them nowhere near me.”
He almost choked with laughter but one look at her face told him she was serious. “Kissing diseases? Where did you hear such information?”
She frowned. “Pah, English, everyone knows that the queen’s ladies are nothing but high-bred whores. Is that the type of woman you would have for my companion?”
“High-bred whores?” he repeated to himself, amused, then spoke louder. “In spite of your opinion, I am sure the queen will select a proper mentor. If I feel she is not, then I will send her back.”
“What of the earl?” she questioned.
William shrugged. “He will listen to me.”
The opening she was looking for. “Then ask him not to send Jemma home. I need her, English.”
He looked at her and knew she had trapped him. He sighed low in frustration. “Mayhap tonight. I will see how his mood rides,” he said. “But it is not just him; it is Analiese.”
“I saw how she looks at ye, English,” Jordan said with a bit of jealousy. “If ye were to throw a pretty look in her direction she would most likely relent. Oh, please, wunna ye try for me?”
He made a wry face at her. “Jordan, you have no idea what you are asking,” he said flatly. “Analiese has been…well, she’s been sorely trying my patience for years. To put it bluntly, she wishes my favors. If I were to show her the least bit of kindness, there would be no end to it.”
“As much as that thought distresses me, I will beg ye again,” she said. “Please, English? For me?”
He glanced down into her wide green eyes. He would move the sun and the stars for her without as much as a blink of an eye. The battle for him was lost the moment she asked him to begin with and the rest of the conversation was a futile attempt to not seem so devoted to her will.
“Very well,” he said, looking up to the ramparts as they passed through the gate. “I will see what I can do.”
She beamed. “Thank ye, English. What would I do without ye?”
“Fortunately, madam, you will never have to find out,” he replied quietly. There were ears about.
The outer bailey was jammed with peasants going about their tasks. Jordan watched as a man with a cart loaded with bundles of fabric passed before her and she clapped her hands in delight.
“Oh, I must look at that!” she exclaimed, running to the man to stop him as William followed close behind.
He divided his attention between watching her happily inspect the goods and keeping his eyes roving about the bailey, watching for anything threatening. ’Twas a habit he had long had. He looked up and caught Paris looking down on him from the top of the inner wall. They did nothing more than nod at each other, but he knew Paris was also vigilantly searching the crowd for any hostility on Jordan’s behalf.
Jordan. He looked at her as she inspected a pile of topaz-colored silk as if it were a prize stallion. Every movement was fluid, every expression filled with a thousand words. The more he watched her, the more he realized that Normandy was indeed a fine place to live. As much as he loved Northwood, he loved her more. He’d always loved her, from the moment he had first seen her. There was never any doubt in his mind.
He was amazed that this small, delicate woman had the power to make him forget everything that was important to him until he realized that the only thing of true importance was her. He had been a soldier all of his life. He had an auspicious reputation that he had obtained through the sheer act of doing, not because he had set out to earn a name for himself. Although he was proud of his reputation and everything he had achieved in his lifetime, it was empty and meaningless without Jordan to share it with.
He sighed, bracing his legs apart and crossing his arms over his chest. He was the epitome of strength and power, of perfect knightly skill. He had not one flaw in the world except her. He had feared that his love for her would make him weak when, in fact, he felt omnipotent.
“Sir William.” her voice snapped him out of his train of thought. When he looked at her she smiled and pointed to two bolts of material. “Will ye see that these are taken to my rooms?”
“Aye, my lady,” he looked over his shoulder and, seeing two of his soldiers nearby, let out a shrill whistle from his teeth and motioned them over.
With the material en route to her chambers, they resumed their walk back to the inner bailey. Ahead of them, they saw Deinwald; his tunic-less torso gleaming magnificently under the late morning sun. He
was leading William’s destrier to the blacksmith’s lean-to. He did not see William or Jordan as they walked behind him.
Jordan watched the back of his shaggy blond head. “Ooch, he’s the worst,” she said. “He will probably punch me in the nose for getting him in trouble.”
William watched Deinwald, knowing the man’s thoughts on Lady Jordan far better than she did, and punching her in the nose was the last thing on his mind. He ignored her statement because she knew full well his knights brought their punishment on themselves, as he had told her before.
“His backside and my destrier’s look quite alike, don’t you think?” he remarked.
She burst into giggles and playfully slapped his arm. He tried to maintain a stoic face, but in faith, he liked to hear her laugh.
“They sway the same way, too.” His right hand mimicked the sashay of the animal.
“Stop!” she snickered. “Poor Deinwald, being compared to a horse.”
“Just a moment ago he was going to punch you in the nose and now you defend him,” he shook his head. “Are you always such a paradox, my lady?”
She shrugged lightly and smiled at the ground. Then she stopped.
“Oh, look,” she said, and bent down and picked a small purple flower that was growing wild amidst all of the dust and muck. “A violet,” she stood and half turned to him, holding it up. “My Aunt Lilith says that…”
A high-pitched whistling interrupted her statement a split second later than William did. He knew the sound all too well but only had time to put his hands on her arms before she was hit in the shoulder by a force so violent that she slammed into him, knocking him off-balance. At the first horrified glance, William thought the arrow had hit her in the back of the neck.
Jordan honestly wasn’t sure what had happened. All she knew was that the pain was unbelievable, radiating from her shoulder down her back and into her arms. She tried to stand up straight, tried to talk to him, but his arms were around her and he was yelling orders louder than she ever thought it possible for a man to yell.
Her shoulder and arm felt wet and warm and she realized it must be her own blood she felt. Her last coherent thought before blissful darkness claimed her was, Sweet Jesu,’ another Sassenach throwing boulders…?
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 68
