Jemma’s face lit up. “My favorite subject. What do ye know about them?”
Analiese’s lip twitched. “Not much. Mayhap with our combined knowledge, we will not be so ignorant.”
Jemma’s face split with a wide smile as she pulled up the chair.
Several feet away from the dais, William Payton-Forrester was again passing an appraising eye over Jordan. William saw him but ignored it, more intent on noticing that Jemma had joined Analiese’s and Jordan’s conversation.
“So that is the fair Scot lass, is it?” Payton-Forrester raised his brows.
William glanced casually at Jordan. “Aye.”
Payton-Forrester passed a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I must get a closer look at her to see if your boast was justified.”
“You can see her well enough,” William told him. “She is not a prize mare to be ogled.”
“I do not ogle,” Payton-Forrester said flatly. “But I do inspect.”
William shot him a hard look, brooking no tolerance for what the man was suggesting. “Not her, you do not.”
Payton-Forrester looked into the eyes of his friend and was struck by what he read in the depths. His jocularity vanished in that second when he realized that there was more going on here than William was telling him, and he furthermore realized it was none of his business. The comments from earlier regarding the earl’s intended, when he proclaimed her great beauty, were beginning to make sense.
He pitied his friend for what could never be. He knew how strongly he felt for his Shannon and knew that if he could not have had her, he would not have wanted to live. He could not help but wonder how deep William’s feeling ran for the lass.
“Well, since you are going to ruin my fun, my men and I will be leaving this morn,” Payton-Forrester said.
William nodded. “Nearly everyone is leaving with the exception of Northumbria and Cumberland. It seems the earl did not invite many people to his wedding.”
Payton-Forrester passed another glance at Jordan. “Christ, I would if I were marrying her. I’d invite the whole damn country.” When William gave him another icy gaze, he smiled to lift the mood. “In any case, William, ’twas good to see you again. And find yourself a wife, would you?” Again, he looked at Jordan and found himself clapping William on the shoulder. “I hear Flanders is lovely this time of year.”
William almost reacted to the statement, wondering if Payton-Forrester and Paris had been talking. Where had he heard that before? He knew he had given away more than he had intended to, but he steadfastly refused to acknowledge the comment. Obviously, the man was not a fool and William knew he could trust his confidence. Were his feelings for Jordan so blatantly obvious?
As his friend quit the table, William again turned to pass a glance at Jordan, when one of his soldiers near the huge entry door caught his attention. Gladly, he excused himself and went to the man.
“My lord, riders approach.”
“Do we know who?” William asked.
The soldier looked grim. “Scots, my lord. Two of them.”
William was puzzled but did not show it. “I am coming,” when the man did a quick bow and ducked away, William turned in Paris’ direction and motioned to the man. When Paris joined him, the two of them marched purposefully from the room.
*
The two Scots sat in a guardroom in the gatehouse, being allowed entrance, and only to be herded into the room like criminals. They sat and waited, speaking alternately in English and Gaelic; angry at their treatment. When William and Paris entered the room, there was tangible hostility.
William approached cautiously while Paris hung back by the door. He eyed the two men.
“State your business,” he said coldly.
The first man, a dark-haired young lad, returned the cold stare. “First ye will do me the courtesy of tell me with whom I am speaking.”
As William’s eyes became accustomed to the dimness of the room, he realized the men were wearing Scott tartan. He was a little more at ease than he had been but a moment before, but he was more curious than ever.
“I am Captain de Wolfe,” he replied. “Who are you?”
The young man’s eyes widened slightly when he discovered who he was talking to, but he held himself well. “My name is Cord Scott, nephew of Laird Scott. He has sent me here with a missive for the Earl of Teviot.”
William knew better than to ask for the message or to demand to see it. He would simply take the man on his word. With a faint nod he indicated the door.
“Come with me,” he said, then jabbed a finger at the other man when he rose to follow. “He stays.”
Cord complied, waving the other man down. “That ’tis just – my brother, Ian,” he said as if that made any difference.
William didn’t answer. Leaving Paris with the other Scot, he took Cord into the fortress, leading him to the earl’s solar.
Sending a guard to retrieve the earl, he leaned back against the wall to study the individual more closely from where the man could not see him. They waited in complete silence. William was mildly impressed to see that Cord appeared neither fidgety nor nervous, even though he knew William was staring down his back.
The closer he scrutinized him, the more familiar the fine dark features looked to him. His cold stare washed with a thoughtful expression.
“Is Jemma your sister?” he asked.
Cord jerked his head around to look at him. “What do ye know of Jemma?”
William could see a great deal of venomous suspicion and wondered why. “Then she is related to you?”
Cord shot to his feet. “Tell me what ye know of Jemma, ye bastard, or I shall take off yer hide.”
William wasn’t offended. He could see from the temper that the man was her brother. It occurred to him that when Jemma had been discovered following them, she was in disguise, and knowing her as he had come to, she probably did not think to tell anyone her plans. For all her family knew, she had been kidnapped, and most likely by the same English army that had taken Jordan. He was cognizant of the man’s distrust for him.
“I know that she is here, at Northwood, whether or not we want her,” William said evenly. “See here, lad, we did not kidnap her. She followed us, as she said in her own words, so she could serve her cousin. But what she has done and what her intentions were are two different things entirely.”
Cord drew a long breath. “She is here? With Jordan?”
“Aye,” William replied.
He stared at William a moment before regaining his seat. He sat as if contemplating the explanation given before finally releasing a pent-up chuckle. “The little magpie,” he muttered. “Always had a brain duller than a hammer.”
William nodded. “I see we are speaking of the same woman.”
Cord looked up at him then chuckled again. “I never did believe she was kidnapped. Ye English were never actually close enough to the fortress to get in. I figured she had to have of slipped out, or some other sort of nonsense. She was terrified of Jordan leaving her, ye know. She can’t live without the woman. I take it she is well, then?”
“She is,” William answered.
Cord nodded. “And making a bloody nuisance of herself, I see?”
William grinned wryly. “We are used to her now.”
Cord nodded again. “Me mam will be glad to hear that her only daughter isna dead or left by the English hounds after they had their fill of her.”
“I assure you, she is quite safe,” William told him.
As he pondered Jemma’s brother, William thought of the missive the man carried and wondered if after it was read, if such a thing as safety would still be possible. True, he was planning to take Jordan with him regardless, but Jemma would still remain at Northwood and at the mercy of the earl. Unless, of course, Kieran and Jemma accompanied them to France. Several thoughts raced through his head, but he said nothing.
The earl came into the solar, eyeing the Scot thoroughly when he stood. “What is this all ab
out?”
“Are ye Lord de Longley?” Cord asked, not a waver in his voice.
“I am,” the earl replied shortly. He was angry at being taken away from Adam’s feast and wished to return immediately. “What is it you have for me, lad, and be quick about it.”
Cord reached beneath the folds of his tartan. William pushed himself up the wall in a purely defensive maneuver, concerned for the earl’s safety in case the Scot was harboring a dirk. But what Cord drew forth was a rolled length of vellum.
“A message from Laird Scott, sire,” Cord said. “I am to await a reply.”
With a purse of his lips, the earl snatched the vellum away and broke the seal. His eyes began to read hastily until he had reached halfway down the page. Then, he visibly slowed and seemed to be re-reading certain passages.
William was unable to gauge the earl’s reaction and wildly wondered if Laird Scott was demanding his daughter back. He fought the urge to read the parchment over the earl’s shoulder. After several minutes, the earl glanced up at Cord, then turned to William.
“Leave us,” he told his captain.
William complied even though he was anxious to know what was going on, but knowing he would find out soon enough. He took up position in the corridor outside of the room and waited. Paris joined him at some point and the two of them stood in silence.
It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that the earl summoned William and Paris into the solar. Cord was gone, taken by a couple of soldiers back to the gatehouse where he would be housed until a reply was drafted.
Impassively, William and Paris stood before the earl where the man sat behind his massive oak desk. He was sitting in his overstuffed chair, facing the windows with a distant look to his eye. William wondered if the man even realized they were standing there.
But the earl eventually moved, reaching out and picking up the missive from the Scot laird. He held it up to William, still not looking at him.
“Read this,” he commanded quietly.
They did. Twice. The two of them looked at each other in disbelief before setting the parchment down on the desk. The air was warm and still, with only the sounds of faint activity in the bailey permeating the windows now and again. The sounds were faint and deafening at the same time.
“What do you think, William?” the earl finally asked.
William was much calmer than he had expected himself to be. “It has got to be the most ambitious, insane load of drivel that I have ever heard,” he said. “How can those others clans believe that they can actually control the border? Not only that, but they seem to believe they can take on the whole of northern England to accomplish it. Laird Scott is right; he is caught in the middle of something big. If he breaks our treaty, he will be at war with us, and if he does not, his former allies will destroy him.”
“The bottom line is simple, my lord,” Paris put in. “Either support the Scotts when they defy their allies, or return Lady Jordan.”
The earl scratched his head and turned to face them. “I do not like ultimatums. I fear that I will have to inform the king of this and he will not be pleased.”
“What do you have in mind to do, my lord?” William asked him.
“I am not sure yet,” he replied. “Of course, I want to support Clan Scott, but if we did, then it would mean war against every other border clan. I do not know if I can risk the security of Northwood in such a fashion.”
“It means war regardless,” William interjected. “Whether or not we support clan Scott, we will be at war with the border clans. The only difference will be whether we are fighting with clan Scott or against them.”
“Agreed,” Paris said. “The border clans are apparently intent on destroying every significant fortress on the English border one way or the other. I think what we should be concerned with now is notifying all of the warlords along the boundary and formulating a plan of action.”
“In good time, Paris,” the earl assured him. “As you know, the majority of them are in my dining hall at this moment and I expect to inform them of this missive before they leave. But at the moment, I am more concerned about clan Scott’s request.”
“What of the wedding?” Paris asked him. “The king is expected on the morrow.”
“There will be no wedding, at least not in the literal sense,” the earl stated casually.
William and Paris stared at the man. He was looking at the desk absently, but slowly, his head came up and he focused directly on William.
“Will there, lad?” he asked softly.
William forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. Every muscle in his body was rigid with apprehension at the question. After what happened this morning, he had expected some manner of confrontation. He sensed that it was coming now. He could not, would not lie, but he would not deny a direct question.
“What do you mean?” he asked evenly.
To his shock, the earl actually smiled weakly. He sat forward in his chair and folded his hands.
“I mean, that there will be a wedding, but I will not be the groom.” His voice softened, as did his expression. “The game is over, William.”
William was so geared up for an all-out fight that his limbs suddenly went weak with confusion. “What game?” he asked.
De Longley passed a glance at Paris. “Get out of here. This does not concern you.”
Paris fled, leaving William bewildered and off-balance. He continued to stare into de Longley’s small brown eyes, hoping to regain his composure before the next barrage.
“My lord….,” he started hoarsely.
“Nay, William, allow me to finish,” the earl said, and waved at him. “You see, I was a fool. I should have realized from the very first day that you were in love with her, but I…I simply overlooked the fact. The very night I informed you of the king’s directive, while in my bower, I remember distinctly the look that came to your eyes when you spoke of your angel of mercy. You have that same look in your eyes every time you look at her still. I should have listened to you when you spoke, William; not so much in your words, but in your tone. But I am an ignorant old man. I’d forgotten what it was like to be in love.”
William was reeling with disbelief. He felt horribly guilty and wildly relieved at the same time.
“You assumed all of this?” He still was not ready to admit anything until the earl asked it plainly of him.
“Assumed, yes, but I am not so stupid that I did not hear the rumors,” he replied. “Especially when Alexander was so free with his gossip. And this morn…well, I must say that I am ashamed of what I did. I guess I wanted to see her for myself, the prize that caused my William to deceive me. I listened to the gossip, lad, and I knew that although she left Langton a virgin, she no longer retained that distinction. She would not tell me that she was not a virgin and I suppose anger and curiosity forced me to see for myself. Yet for whatever the reasons, I must humbly beg your forgiveness. It was inexcusable.”
“You had every legal right to inspect your betrothed, sire,” William said calmly.
The earl slapped his hands on the desk, causing the parchment to rustle. “Damnation, William, stop being so evasive with me. I am trying to tell you that I am sorry and that if you wish to marry the lady, then I shall help you.”
William was dazed. The entire conversation had been too overwhelming to believe, but believe it he did. He knew the earl well enough to know he was not being deceived. If he were speaking the words, then they were sincere. There was no longer any reason why he should still deny the situation but it had become so much a part of him that he was unsure as to how to admit his sins.
“I did not enjoy misleading you, sire,” he whispered finally.
The earl visibly relaxed. Now that the words were spoken, it would be easier to deal with.
“I know, lad,” he said softly. “But the situation made it impossible to act in any other manner. What remains now is what you intend to do about it.”
He took a deep, cleansing breath. He
was aware that he was feeling much lighter with his confession. “I want to marry her, of course. But what of the king and the treaty?”
The earl sat back in his chair. He looked thoughtful a moment before snorting. “I have gone for years without any major decisions to make. Now, I have two massive conclusions to reach all on the same day. I take it that returning Lady Jordan to Langton is out of the question?”
William grinned sheepishly. “That would be a fair statement.”
The earl nodded shortly. “Then that answer makes one decision for me. Now about the king and the treaty; I will have to work on that one.”
William nodded, feeling giddy with relief and exhaustion. The two men sat in silence for some time, each lost to his thoughts. William’s mind was reeling and he could not seem to hold one rational thought. Everything had changed now and he wasn’t sure how to feel about any of it.
Finally, he spoke. “Why would you do this for me, my lord?” he asked. “After a deception as great as this, I would expect swift retribution. Not your assistance.”
The earl smiled. “Because you are a son to me,” he said. “Were it in my power, I would pass the title and the fortress on to you. You are my pride, lad. Your reputation is mine. You are far more valuable to me than you can possibly know. This assistance, as you call it, is merely a small favor for the hundreds you have done for me. Besides, I have a feeling you would be with Lady Jordan, no matter what the cost, and I would hate to lose you to Ireland or France.” He sat forward with a knowing wink. “Furthermore, I would lose all of my knights. They would follow you rather than stay here and serve me.”
William gazed back in amazement; everything he had always known, the earl had known as well. He felt like a fool for underestimating the man.
“I am speechless, sire,” he admitted softly. “To thank you does not seem quite enough.”
“Do not thank me yet, lad,” the earl’s tone made him perk up. “We must still deal with the king. Your marriage to the lady must be kept from him, at least for the time being. But I suspect that in lieu of a believable explanation, I may very well have to proceed with some sort of ceremony with Lady Jordan at my side come tomorrow.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 82
