Finally, in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the nuisance, he convinced the earl that the feast on the morrow would be of the utmost significance and insisted that the earl himself see to it. De Longley, in full agreement, complied and left him alone.
As dusk came, Jordan and Jemma watched from their rooms for any sign of the procession of knights. A cooling wind caressed their faces as they watched and eagerly waiting, wishing they could attend this momentous event. The mystery was exciting.
As the pomp and circumstance began to commence, it occurred to Jordan that Michael was in her antechamber, not participating in the festivities. With a furrowed brow, she wandered in the room where he was standing near the window, watching the happenings below.
“Michael, why aren’t ye attending Adam with the others?” she asked.
He looked at her. “Because someone had to watch over you, m-my lady.”
She didn’t believe him. “There are soldiers to do that. You should be down there with the other knights.”
“There is no need. I have seen dozens of m-men knighted and all of the ceremonies are the same.”
She looked him in the eye and he smiled wanly, trying to convince her he was sincere. She put her hands on her hips.
“Ye’re a liar, Michael de Bocage. Why are ye here, and dunna give me anymore of your half-truths,” she said flatly.
He sighed. “Because you needed a guard this night and William assigned me.” He wasn’t about to tell her the whole story, but what he stated was the truth.
She frowned. “Do ye swear?”
“Aye.”
“Do ye swear it on yer oath as a knight of the realm?” she demanded again.
He cleared his throat. “Aye, m-my lady. I do.”
She still didn’t believe him, but didn’t push anymore. “Well, then, since I have never been to a knighting ceremony, ye can tell Jemma and me what goes on. Come to the bedchamber window with us; ’tis a better view.”
He obeyed, standing behind them as they gazed out the window toward the knights’ quarters. A soft glow from inside filtered through the thin windows, with shadows passing before the openings now and again.
“What are they doing now?” Jemma asked softly.
Michael braced his legs apart, crossing his massive arms across him. “Right now Adam is taking his ceremonial bath. ’Tis largely symbolic, im-mplying purification of the soul for service to God.”
“I wasna aware that English knights are so religious,” Jemma said.
“Indeed, m-my lady,” Michael insisted softly. “ ’Tis the primary purpose of a knight to uphold the laws of the church. In fact, a philosopher once wrote that the knighthood’s function is to protect the church, fight against treachery, to reverence the priesthood, to fend off injustice from the poor, to m-make peace in your own province, to shed blood for your brethren, and if need be, to lay down your life.”
Properly awed, Jordan and Jemma gazed at the knights’ quarters with new eyes. “All of that?” Jordan asked softly. “ ’Tis an awesome responsibility you hold, sir knight.”
“Aye,” Michael replied. “And one may also add to the list to protect lovely young maidens.”
The women turned and smiled at him. Jordan was about to speak when he suddenly pointed out the window. “Look, there,” he said. “Here they come.”
They were riveted to the window, straining to see all. The door was now open and they could see movement. Adam emerged, dressed in a long pristine white robe with a red mantle draped about him. He solemnly headed for the small chapel under the Northwest turret.
William was directly behind him and Jordan’s heart warmed at the sight of him. He was dressed in full ceremonial armor, his hair combed and clean-shaven. His gait was distinctive, she noticed, with a sort of arrogant and proud swagger. She wondered why she had never noticed it before. Behind him were the rest of the knights, plus several other men in armor she did not recognize. Kieran carried Adam’s sword and shield, and Paris held a shiny object in his right hand.
“What is Paris holding?” she asked Michael.
“Adam’s spurs,” he told her softly. “A symbol of his knighthood.”
The procession walked silently, with each man disappearing from their line of sight as they rounded the corner of the castle. When all had gone from view, Jemma and Jordan turned on Michael eagerly.
“What will they do now?” Jordan asked.
“When will they be done?” Jemma demanded.
“Will Adam get hit with a sword at the ceremony?”
“Does Adam have to fight William to prove himself?”
Michael’s head began to swim and he put his hands up, although he was laughing. “Please, ladies, one at a time,” he implored. “Now, in answer to your questions, they will be done at dawn. Nay, Adam does not get hit with a sword, m-merely christened by it, and he does not have to fight William. As for what will happen now, ’tis very simple from this point on. The knights will lay Adam’s sword, shield and spurs on the altar and Adam will hold vigilant prayer all night. Then there will be a ceremony at dawn in which the earl and invited guests will attend, and William will knight Adam.”
“Do all of the knights have to pray all night long?” Jordan tried to hide her disappointment; she had hoped to see William this night.
“Aye, my lady, they do,” he replied, then added with a touch of drollness, “it does wonders for one’s knightly devotion to spend an entire night kneeling in armor. There are not many things more painful in this life.”
The thought of all of the knights kneeling all night long brought giggles to the women.
“Who were all of those other knights?” Jordan asked. “I dinna recognize them.”
“Those were other honored knights Adam wished to have attend him,” Michael replied. “The Captains of Beverley, where he fostered, Deauxville M-Mount, Northumbria, Cumberland, Hawkgrove, Bitterwell, Simonson Keep, Alston, and Wellesbourne, I believe.”
Jordan snorted and turned away. “It doesna sound like much of an honor to know that ye are going to spend the entire night on yer knees.”
“ ’Tis more than that, m-my lady,” he said softly. “Tell me; would you do anything for your clan, even if it meant being uncomfortable for a time?”
“Of course, without question,” she answered.
“It is the same with the knighthood,” he responded. “You see, we depend on each other, fight and die for each other. Hell, sometimes even fight and die against each other, but we are all part of the same clan, as you will. We are all of the same vows and goals. ’Tis an honor to accept a new member willing to pledge his life for the collective brotherhood.”
She understood what he was saying, knowing knighthood ties were like clan ties; very strong. She appreciated Michael’s patience in explaining the ceremony to two ignorant women.
“Thank you, sir knight,” she said. “Ye have been most educational.”
“M-my pleasure, my lady,” he answered.
She could not help but notice the wistful look in his eye when he turned away.
*
After a night of kneeling in his armor, William’s body was screaming for relief by the time the eastern horizon turned faint shades of pinkish-blue. When the richly garbed priest kneeling at the private altar rose stiffly, William did too. That signaled the other knights to rise, albeit slowly. If there were any groans of pain, William didn’t hear them.
He stood next to Paris and the captain of Beverley, Sir William Payton-Forrester. Payton-Forrester was, in simple terms, the most beautiful man God had ever seen fit to create. He was nearly as tall as William with long blond hair, flowing to his shoulders, and sky-blue eyes.
He reminded William of a Roman statue. His face was sharp of feature and square of jaw and he had the good fortune to have as fine a character as his looks. Although he had had the lion’s share of women during his life, he had finally found a woman whom he could love, and who in turn could tolerate him. William had seen her; she
was a flame-haired Scot beauty with porcelain features. Pretty as she was, William was confident his Scot beauty was prettier.
Silently, the knights began to file toward their designated positions for the knighting. As William and Payton-Forrester separated themselves from the group, they noticed that the honor guard had opened the door to the chapel and the guests had begun to enter reverently.
Not a word was said until the young priest began to intone the mass in Latin. William stood before Adam, whose head was bowed respectfully. William held his sword, his own sword once belonging to his grandfather. The sword had inducted many a knight, including William. After the prayers and the readings, in which the audience participated, it was time for the blessing and the benediction.
The priest stood over Adam and made the sign of the cross, his monotone voice droning out the sing-song blessing. When it was time, William spoke the words that accepted Adam into the brotherhood of knights and tapped him lightly on first the right, and then the left shoulder. With the final blessing of the audience, the service was concluded.
Adam rose, his handsome face smiling at William as his new captain handed him his sword, his shield, and his spurs. The earl and Alexander were close behind, waiting for the proper moment to congratulate him. When William nodded slightly in their direction, they pushed forward and nearly swallowed Adam up.
William was officially finished with his duties for the moment and his mind turned to Jordan. With the earl occupied, he could slip away and spend a few stolen moments with her. He was moving for the door when Captain Payton-Forrester stopped him.
The man had a smile that could devastate the entire female population of England. But William had seen it before.
“Where are you off to, Wolf?” Payton-Forrester demanded. “ ’Tis been a long time since we have seen each other. I hardly had time to speak to you last night.”
“Hell, I was busy,” William said. “And you arrived so damn late. How is your lovely wife?”
“Shannon is well, thank you,” his friend said. “Expecting our second child. I assume Adam told you that she bore me a son last year?”
“Aye, he did,” William replied. “Congratulations on Simon.”
Payton-Forrester nodded. “And what about you? Have you found no woman yet? God knows, your ugly face would chase them off.”
William grinned. “No wife yet,” he said truthfully. After all, Jordan wasn’t his wife. Yet.
“Well, get on it, man,” Payton-Forrester told him. “I wish for our sons to foster together, but you must cooperate.”
“I shall try,” William answered, leading them both out into the early morning sunshine.
“God’s Toes.” Payton-Forrester exclaimed, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight. “ ’Tis hot as hell this summer. I cannot ever remember this kind of heat, especially this far north.”
“Nor I,” William glanced up at Jordan’s windows, wondering if she were awake.
“Say, Wolf, I heard that the earl’s betrothed is the image of an angel,” Payton-Forrester said with a jab to William’s arm. “How true are the rumors?”
William could not stop himself. “True as the Bible, William. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
His friend looked insulted. “But you have seen Shannon and still you make that outrageous statement?”
William grinned, hoping to lighten the insult. “Aye. See if you do not agree if you have the privilege to meet her.”
“Preposterous.” Payton-Forrester said gruffly.
William left him with a promise that he would sit by him at the celebration feast, and entered the castle with Jordan filling every corner of his mind.
Michael met him at the door. William’s guard went up at the look on his knight’s face. “What is wrong?” he demanded.
Michael looked grim and upset, motioning for William to keep his voice down.
“I wanted to speak with you first, before you see her,” he said quietly. “The earl came this m-morning before the sun rose. He went into Jordan’s bedchamber and closed the door. William, there was nothing I could do to stop the m-man.”
William’s chest nearly exploded with apprehension and horror. “Stop him from what?”
Michael sighed heavily. He hated to deliver such news. “I do not think he violated her, at least not in the literal sense,” he said softly. “But he did touch her. That was all I could get out of her. William, I am sorry. He is m-my liege and I am sworn to obey him. He ordered me away and I had to comply.”
“Damnation!” William hissed furiously. “Of all the goddamned, unbelievable….”
He stopped in mid-rage at the sight of Michael’s face. It suddenly occurred to him that Michael knew about his relationship with Jordan. They all did. He had told no one but Paris, but somehow they all knew.
They were obviously beyond any more charades. And it was obvious by Michael’s words that his knight was on his side, right or wrong.
William let out a blustery sigh, struggling to control his fury. “Where is she?” he asked quietly.
Michael tipped his head. “In her bedchamber.”
He moved toward the closed door. “Stay here in case Jemma awakens,” he said. “I do not want her near Jordan yet.”
“Aye, m-my lord,” came the soft reply.
Wearily, strung out with anguish, William entered the darkened bedchamber. Jordan was asleep on her bed facing away from him. He closed the door quietly, concern etching his tired features. He moved around the bed so that he could see her face; it was pale and tear-stained and his heart lurched painfully.
God, why? He mused bitterly. Why did this have to happen to them? Why could not they have met under different circumstances allowing them to be together? William kept hoping the inevitable wedding would somehow be put off. He realized he wanted it postponed indefinitely because he could not stand the thought of it taking place.
With each passing minute, she became more a part of him than the minute before and he knew now, looking at her, that she could never be the Countess of Teviot. He’d given her a pretty speech earlier about honor and selfishness, but those reasons were gone. That was before the reality of the earl’s visit. William would not allow Jordan to marry the man. She belonged to him; the king, and the crown, and peace be damned.
William unlatched his armor and let it slide to the floor. The clothing came off, piece by piece. He was so damned tired and frustrated he simply wanted to crawl into bed beside her and hold her until he gained control of himself. Naked, he slid under the covers and gathered her to him. Instantly she awoke and began struggling hysterically.
“ ’Tis me, Jordan,” he gripped her flailing arms. “Calm yourself, love. ’Tis me.”
Jordan froze, her confused and terrified gaze riveted to his face. It took a split second for the sight of his hazel-gold eyes to register, and then she burst into tears.
He pulled her fiercely to him, clutching her as if he could absorb her fear and her sorrow into his own body. Her sobs were breaking his heart.
“I am here, love, I am here,” he whispered over and over. “You are safe.”
“He came here,” she sobbed. “The earl came to me.”
“I know,” he whispered.
“He touched me.” She pulled away to look at his face, tears streaming down her face. “He forced me to undress for him. He…he touched me.”
William stiffened against her, white hot anger ripping through him. He forced himself with every ounce of strength he possessed to remain outwardly calm.
“How did he touch you?” he asked hoarsely.
Her whimpers were killing him. “He touched my skin and made me turn around for him so that he could look me over. Then…,” she was making herself hysterical, “then he made me lie on the bed so he could see for himself if I was a virgin.”
Dear God in heaven, how much could one man take? William bolted up, taking her with him, his hands roughly grabbing her face to look at him.
“
He did what?” He realized someone’s voice was breaking. It was his.
She was gasping. “He put his fingers where only ye have touched me, English. It was horrible.”
William felt the blood draining from his face. “Then he knows that you are no virgin.”
“He asked me who had taken me, and when.”
She was quaking violently in his grip and he realized that he was shaking, too. “What did you tell him?”
Her eyes were wide on him, fearful of his reaction. “I told him that no one had taken me, that I had been riding horses since I was a bairn, astride as men do. Sometimes that accounts for the lack of virginal evidence even though the woman hasna known a man.
“Then you lied to him.”
“Nay, English, I dinna.” She was calming somewhat, hiccupping and sniffling. “I remembered what ye had said to me once that if the earl asked questions that he would have to be most specific in order to gain an answer. Ye never took me; ye made love to me. He dinna ask me that. And the rest about riding horses was no lie, either, so I told him no true falsehoods.”
“A minor point, Jordan,” he replied softly, his anger draining away and being replaced by cold apprehension.
The earl was no fool; if he had heard the rumors then he suspected who was to blame. Already, Jordan might be in a greater danger than she realized, and that thought panicked him. His natural instincts to protect her were surging wildly.
“Are ye angry with me?” Jordan asked, noticing he had become distant.
He ran his fingers lightly over her face. “Nay, love. You did what you had to. Now I must do the same.”
“What do ye mean?” she asked.
He looked at her. He really looked at her. The decision he came to was so rapid that he scarce had time to review it before he was speaking.
“We are leaving.”
“What?” Her tears were gone, replaced by stunned surprise.
“We’re going to London, tonight,” he said. “From there we can arrange passage to France. I have relatives in Normandy who will welcome us.”
All of her pain and anxiety flew out the window. She was filled with amazement, hoping beyond hope that he was serious. “But what about all of those things ye told me?” she wanted to know. “Ye told me that men would die if we were to run away together. What about…?”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 80
