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

by Kathryn Le Veque

Jordan blinked, taken aback at his gruffness. “Because….” She glanced at her basket of mending. “Because these are the garments she has requested immediately. Where are her rooms?”

  He looked her up and down. “What’s your name, girl? I haven’t seen you around here.”

  Oh no! Jordan thought. She didn’t like the look in his eyes. “My name is Elinor. Might ye show me where Lady Analiese’s rooms, please?”

  “Elinor,” the soldier rolled it on his tongue, taking a seductive step toward her. “You are a bonny wench.”

  “I am married.” she jumped back from him, holding the basket in front of her.

  “Married?” the soldier repeated. “All the better. Then I won’t be spoilin’ anything.”

  She was quickly becoming terrified. “Stay away from me, Sassenach.” she warned desperately. “My husband is a knight and he will run ye through if ye touch me.”

  “A knight?” the soldier momentarily stopped. He frowned. “Which one?”

  William was the fiercest knight by far, but everyone knew he wasn’t married. Her mind raced to think of the second most-imposing knight she could think of. “Sir Kieran Hage.”

  “Sir Kieran?” The soldier began to show signs of nervousness at last. As she had hoped, the man did not wish a confrontation with the massive man. He looked her up and down again then, licking his lips, he went back to his post on the door. “You had better not be lying, wench, or I will track you down and make you wish you’d never been born. I shall remember your face, too. Lady Analiese’s rooms are three doors down, to the left.”

  “She is lying,” said Alexander.

  Jordan had failed to notice that the door the soldier had been guarding was opened. Alexander stood in the archway, an evil smile on his lips.

  The guard jerked around to Alexander, then back to Jordan. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to react.

  Jordan was frightened. Alexander kept staring at her, the hate in his eyes reaching toward her like an evil, cloying fog.

  She instinctively took a step back, clutching the basket in front of her. She had to get out of there, realizing that she had placed herself in severe danger. She could run, but not knowing the layout of the castle well put her at an extreme disadvantage. Her panic was growing.

  *

  William heard the yelling from the top of the stairs. Puzzled, he took the short walk to Jordan’s door, listening to the shouting get louder. The guards were gathered around the door, listening, and he shoved them away in his attempt to reach the latch. With a glare, he silently ordered them back and entered the antechamber.

  Jemma stood in the center of the room, squared off against Elspeth, the older of the two maids. He glanced about, noticing immediately Jordan was not in the room. Jemma saw him enter and instantly shut her mouth, suddenly very afraid.

  “This is no way for ladies of the future countess to act,” he said reproachfully. “Where is Lady Jordan?”

  Old Elspeth had her back to him. She spun around to face him, her round face flushed. “She’s gone. And this little peapod wunna tell me where she went.”

  Fear surged through William. His eyes riveted to Jemma. “Where in the hell is she?”

  Jemma was quaking inside but she defiantly lifted her chin in spite of her common sense. “She’s in no danger, sir knight.”

  His jaw ticked and he took deliberate steps toward her, standing so close he was almost standing on top of her. “That was not what I asked. Where is she?”

  Jemma fully intended to evade his question again, but her fear got the better of her. “She went to seek Lady Analiese’s rooms.”

  He looked perplexed. “Why? How in the bloody hell did she get out of here?”

  “She dressed as a serving girl and slipped past the guard.” Jemma was gushing like a well. “She wanted to return Lady Analiese’s necklace, alone, and talk to her again. She doesna like all of the guards she is forced to endure.”

  The veins on his throat were pulsating and Jemma impulsively stood back from him. If he was going to explode, she did not want to be within his reach.

  “Damnation.” he hissed between his teeth. Before anyone could say another word, he was bolting for the door, slamming it with such force that one of the hinge supports cracked, raining splinters of wood on to the stone floor.

  Jemma and Elspeth stared at the bits of door sprinkled on the ground. “Oh, my,” Elspeth said slowly.

  Jemma nodded in agreement, wondering what would happen to Jordan when William caught up to her and very glad she had not gone with her, for once.

  *

  Alexander was enjoying Jordan’s terror. He was in such a perfect position to humiliate and terrorize her that his wicked little mind was whirling with the possibilities.

  There were so many things he could do, but he did not want to be directly implicated in physically harming her. Hell, the Welsh archer had been the perfect assassin, he thought, until the man failed. Since then, however, when Alexander saw how his father and the knights had reacted, he decided that killing her was mayhap not the smartest thing to do. One could eventually be caught, and a murderer would not ascend the title of Earl of Teviot.

  Of course, at this point, he had no recollection of his conversation with William the night before, and did not remember his confession, or the fact that he damn near implicated himself in the plot to kill the lady. Even if he had remembered, it would have made little difference. William had no power over him.

  Except the power of desire; he lusted for William as he had lusted for none other. The man’s beauty and strength inflamed him to the point of insanity. He wanted to feel those arms around him, run his tongue over the naked buttocks, and feel his mighty sword as it forged into him. But this little bitch seemed to be taking all of William’s time and attention, and he would make her pay for her interference.

  Scot or English was of no concern to him, in faith. He simply hated all women. Vile creatures with privates like horses, huge and slimy and gaping.

  The next best thing to killing her was to make her so miserable that she would voluntarily leave or, at best, kill herself. He could see a blooming opportunity for Jordan to suffer major humiliation and he not be made to blame. He had a ready and willing tool in his guard. The man had appeared shortly before dawn, informing Alexander that Sir William had ordered him protected because of the attempt on Lady Jordan’s life.

  Alexander didn’t stop to think that it had been over a week since the attack, he was simply flattered that William was thinking of him. He was doubly flattered when he noticed his sister had no guard. Obviously, William thought he was worth protecting.

  He pushed himself off the door frame and moved toward Jordan. She stiffened, using the basket like a shield as he approached, wondering with horror what he intended to do. When his hand lashed out she let out a small cry, thinking he was going to strike her. Instead, he ripped off her kerchief. With a thin smile, he turned back for his door, handing the soldier the kerchief as he passed by him.

  “Use this to gag her,” he said coldly. “ ’Twill block out her screams.”

  Alexander’s door slammed. Jordan ran cold; he had given the man his permission to rape her and God only knew what else. She knew now that she had to run if she were going to get help, no matter where the corridors took her. Mayhap if she screamed and yelled enough, someone would hear her. She silently swore to God that lf he let her come from this crisis free of harm, that she would never again disobey William.

  Her body tensed, preparing to bolt as the soldier glanced curiously at the kerchief and shrugged. “Mayhap I will use this,” he said thoughtfully. “I would not want your screams to distract me from my pleasure.”

  Bile rose in her throat. She closed her eyes a brief second to fight it down, but by the time she reopened them he was upon her, his dirty hands reaching for her.

  Jordan screamed, dropping the basket and twisting away from him, but he had her by the arm and he pulled her back against him roughly. She could s
mell his rotten breath and it threatened to bring up the contents of her intestines.

  He was strong. She fought and twisted, screeched and kicked, but his grip held firm. She could feel him trying to pin her against the wall so that he could free up a hand to rip away at her clothing.

  But she was a wildcat, scratching and beating him with her fists and trying desperately to break free from his grasp. Even when he lashed out and slapped her, bringing the taste of blood to her lips, she continued to fight. She would get away from the man or die trying.

  He slammed her up against the stone wall, momentarily stunning her in the brief reprieve in which she stopped her struggles, he fumbled with the ties of the girdle, trying to loosen it. She was seeing stars and deathly afraid she would faint when she suddenly felt a hand to her breast and immediately she returned to the land of the living, slugging the man in the face and resuming her vicious fighting. She wondered vaguely if anyone had heard her screams and if they had, if they even cared. They probably thought it was the screams of another bawdy serving wench in the throes of passion.

  The soldier was grabbing at her hips, trying to lift her skirts. She was using her elbows, aiming for his face, screaming curses at him in Gaelic. But her energy, fed by adrenalin, was fading and being replaced by a panic that promised sweet, safe darkness if she would only give in. But she would not give up – she could not. She could not let this happen to her.

  Faintly, she heard a high-pitched noise, a strange sing-song note that sounded like a bell or a tuning fork. She was almost distracted by it, wondering where it was coming from, when the soldier lurched away from her like a rag doll, wildly and out of control.

  The next thing she saw was William, broadsword in hand, driving the blade into the soldier’s torso and clean through the other side. The man twitched once, twice, and moaned before his eyes closed and he was forever silenced by the hand of death.

  Jordan was still pressed up against the wall, tears over-spilling her eyes and mouth agape as she stared at the dead man. Her hair was askew, her dress torn and disheveled, and her lip swollen and bleeding.

  She could not move; she could hardly breathe. All she could do was gawk in horror as William calmly, coldly, removed his sword and wiped the blood off on the soldier’s tunic.

  He gazed at the soldier a moment longer before turning to Jordan. She knew he was looking at her but she could not bring herself to meet his eyes, a man was dead because she had deliberately disobeyed him. She as good as killed the man herself.

  Jordan could not face him, not after what she had caused him to do. Spinning toward the wall she burst into hot, frightened tears. Her fingers clutched at the stone as she poured out her heart. Her sobs grew more violent and her knees grew weak, her mind spiraling with the shock of what had happened.

  William caught her before she fell, clutching her to his hard chest and inhaling deeply of her hair. The terror that was clawing at his heart was beyond all rational words and the anger that had gripped him was the rage of the devil. His emotions were surging like the raging tides and to hold her, to see that she was physically sound, helped calm him somewhat. But he still felt as if he were bordering on insanity.

  He let her cry, knowing she needed to release her fear just as he had released his own when he had driven the sword into the soldier’s innards. But after a few minutes of holding her and stroking her lovingly, of whispering sweet words into her hair, he turned her around to look at him.

  His big hands clasped either side of her face. “You are safe, love,” he whispered. “Look at me. Let me see what happened to you.”

  She was sobbing quietly but she tilted her head up. He noticed her eyes were still closed. “Look at me, Jordan,” he repeated.

  She did, sluggishly, revealing the pale green orbs as if a curtain were slowly raising. His heart lurched at the myriad of emotions he could so blatantly read. His thumb traced over the small cut on the corner of her mouth.

  “Did he do this?” His voice was raspy.

  She nodded, then burst out into sobs again. “Oh, English, I am so sorry. I was wicked and I disobeyed ye.”

  He shushed her, kissing her face, tasting her tears. “You are safe now.” Now was not the time to scold her. “Come on. Let me take you back.”

  “ ’Twas Alexander who told him to do it,” Jordan said. She was not going to cover up for the evil little man.

  William went stiff with rage. “What did he say?”

  She sniffed, wiping at her nose. She proceeded to tell him everything since she had arrived in the hall, everything Alexander had said and done. She was so frightened and angry and horrified at the soldier’s death that she wanted Alexander to suffer purely because he had provoked the man. She felt like a tattler, but she was not going to protect someone who had tried to do her great harm.

  William was collected and unreadable as always when she finished. Except for one thing; she noticed the veins in his neck throbbing. She’d never seen that before and it puzzled her. He paused a moment after she had concluded, drawing in a deep breath before finally nodding. Then he kissed her forehead and released her.

  “Is Alexander in his rooms?” he asked mildly.

  “Aye,” she nodded, wiping away the remainder of her tears and touching her swollen lip.

  He nodded again. He turned and stepped over his sword where it lay upon the floor and walked directly to Alexander’s door. Jordan watched him apprehensively, wondering what he was going to do. He seemed calm enough except for that wild pulsing at the base of his neck.

  He tried the door to find that it was bolted from the inside. Jordan continued to watch him as he took a step back, as if he were contemplating the situation. She didn’t know what to think, for he looked thoughtful and sedate. Had his anger fled?

  She doubted it. She had grown to know him well enough to know he would not have gotten over it that quickly. So what was he planning?

  She was about to find out.

  Like a flash of lightning, William lashed out a huge booted leg and rammed the door head-on. Jordan shrieked in surprise as the door gave, cracked, and finally swung open in a hail of flying wood and debris. Not only had the wooden bolt snapped, but he had separated the panel from the top hinge.

  William was through the doorjamb before the door had even come to a final resting place.

  Jordan clutched her throat in shock, running after him but pausing at the threshold, not sure if she should follow him in yet horrifically curious to see what he was going to do.

  Alexander had been sitting at his writing desk at the opposite side of the antechamber when William had kicked his door in. He now stood, a long thin sword in his palm pointed right at William’s chest.

  William was advancing on Alexander as if the man were not holding a sword. Jordan heard her breath coming in small, panicked gasps, knowing William’s sword lay back in the hall. She turned and ran for it, retrieving the heavy blade with all of her strength and dragging it back to the doorway.

  “William. Yer sword.” she cried.

  If he heard her, he did not acknowledge her. He walked right up to Alexander and batted the sword from the man’s hand as if it were nothing more than a toy. Alexander was terror-stricken; his pasty face was beaded with sweat and his whole body was quaking.

  “Never point a sword at me unless you intend to use it,” William growled.

  Alexander backed away from him. “Get out of here.”

  William’s jaw ticked. “I understand that you encouraged the attack on Lady Jordan.”

  Alexander’s eyes darted to Jordan in the doorway and back again. “I know of no attack.”

  William lost his composure, then. He charged Alexander, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him onto the flat surface of the desk behind him. Vellum scattered and ink spilled, wells clattering to the floor. The heavy oaken chair tipped over and William kicked it into the wall as it tried to fall on him.

  His hazel-gold eyes were as murky as the depths of the sea.
“You lying bastard,” he seethed. “I should have killed you last night when you all but admitted to me ’twas you who ordered the assassination attempt on Jordan, but I restrained myself although God knows why. You paid the Welsh archer and then killed him so he could not talk. You even planted your sister’s necklace on the man to throw us off your scent.”

  Alexander was terrified, struggling against the vice-like hold, but William gripped his neck tighter. But William wasn’t finished yet.

  “Now you give your blessing for a soldier to attack Lady Jordan?” he went on. “What in the hell is your warped mind thinking?”

  Alexander was gasping for breath. “Let go of me or I swear to God I will have your head.”

  William was grasping him so tightly that he knew the man was laboring for air. “Not until we have an agreement, but God knows I should kill you here and now for what you have done.” His voice was not quite as urgent, but the tone had become deadly. “You will leave Lady Jordan alone. You will not look at her, speak with her, nor even so much as think about her. If I hear you have so much as glanced in her direction, I will descend on you like the plague and I can promise that you will not survive. And you will watch every step you make, for I shall be watching you as well. One false move and The Wolf will strike.”

  Alexander was white. His mouth was working, foam on his lips. “How dare you threaten me.” he rasped.

  William smiled, cold and deadly. “ ’Tis no threat I give you, but a promise. One more transgression against Lady Jordan, however small, and I will kill you.”

  Alexander began to spasm. “I wonder what my father will have to say about that.”

  William’s eyes glittered. “Then I wonder, also, what he will say when he learns his heir masterminded the assassination plot against the future countess, and wholeheartedly approved an attack on her person? ’Twould be certain grounds to have your viscount title stripped and possibly exiled. Remember then, Alexander, that this is between you and me. I know everything that is in your black heart.”

  Alexander looked stunned. Still defiant, but stunned. William, satisfied his point had been well-taken, hauled the man to his feet.