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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  On what should be the greatest day of his life, he was plagued with worry. He tried to push it aside, if only for Jordan’s sake. Being as intuitive as she was, she would pick up on his mood.

  The earl entered the room in a bluster of deep green silk, practically dragging Father Sutton by the arm. The priest, who had supervised Adam’s knighting ceremony, was a young thin man with an infectious smile. He had been initially overwhelmed at the subterfuge the earl was suggesting, but in the goodness of true love, he had graciously accepted a large donation on behalf of the church and swore on the Bible to keep silent.

  He greeted William when the earl shoved the men together, and smiled at the captain, who known as The Wolf.

  “I never thought I would see the day when one of Northwood’s finest would approach the altar in marriage,” he said truthfully. “And if that occasion came, I certainly did not expect it to be you.”

  William started to reply when the earl cut him off. “Shush.” he said nervously. “The bride is coming.”

  William barely had time to glance to the door when Jordan was through it, filling the room with her radiant beauty. He looked at her; they all did, so captured by her beauty that the room had gone stone cold silent.

  Jordan heard the conversation cease when she entered, and she stopped, smiling self-consciously at William where he stood several feet away. She wore a dress of pale ivory satin, which was embroidered with gold thread around the cuff of the sleeves and on the hem of the full skirt. The neckline hung off her exquisite shoulders. The long sleeves clung to her arms, and the bodice hugged her torso. Her hair was free and flowing to her waist. William had never seen anything more beautiful in his whole life.

  Jemma was behind her, dressed in royal blue brocade. She held two huge bouquets of dried spring flowers, smiling her pretty curvy smile in compliment to her cousin. It was if time was standing still, for just a brief span, reveling in the moment that might never have come.

  The earl broke the spell. He shoved the priest to the front of the room. “Come now, everyone, there is no time to lose.”

  Jordan dashed to William, who reached out his hand and clasped her small one in it, reverently, taking just a fleeting instant to kiss her palm softly before tucking it into the crook of his arm. She smiled lovingly at him as they took their positions in front of the priest. Jemma stood to her left, handing her one of the bouquets of flowers.

  “Where did you get these?” he asked. “Surely there are enough fresh flowers in the vicinity.”

  “Aye, there are,” she said. “Ye dunna recognize these? I picked these on the road from Langton; the day of our very first kiss.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows in remembrance of that day. “I suppose they are to remind me of the humility I suffered, and that you expect such blind obedience from me in the future?”

  “Nay, English,” she said softly. “They are to remind me of the first time I realized I loved ye.”

  He smiled, patting her hand on his arm as the earl shushed them again and the priest began to recite the marriage mass.

  The knights circled around the couple; their armor reflecting the light of a hundred candles. Jordan didn’t notice until she turned to William to recite her vows that each knight had his sword drawn, laying across the breast plate from right hip to left shoulder. She was touched by the show of support and loyalty. William would tell her later that the gesture meant a pledge to the death; they would die for her as their lord’s wife. It was a needless gesture; all would have died for her the day they met her.

  She quickly forgot her thoughts when William recited his vows in his husky, deep voice. Tears sprang to her eyes. She never believed she would hear those words come from his mouth, at least so soon. Her voice was so tight when she repeated her vows that she squeaked. Behind her, she could hear Jemma sniffing.

  When it came time to place the ring on her finger, she did not expect any such memento because of the hasty nature of the ceremony. Yet to her surprise, William took an item from Paris’ hand and held it up in front of her. It was a dainty gold chain, fine and delicate, and strung on the chain was a ring.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  He placed the ring in her palm. “A simple gold band. I intend to have a fine ring made for you when the circumstances allow, but I wanted you to have a token just the same.”

  She smiled reverently as she gazed at the ring. “Oh, no, English. I would keep this.”

  He returned her smile, touched at her obvious adoration of the plain ring. He was going to argue with her but he did not have the heart. Later, he would have his way, he told himself.

  He placed the chain over her neck. “You cannot wear the ring on your finger yet,” he said softly. “Until that time, you can wear it next to your heart.”

  She looked at the ring, trying to keep her composure. But she could not, her emotions bubbled forth and she began to weep quietly, leaning against him. The priest finished the ceremony, William kissing salty, wet lips at the conclusion.

  The knights pressed forward to congratulate them, one by one. Paris was the first, shaking William’s hand heartily, a grin on his face and not saying a word. The two of them had been through so much together that no words need be spoken, for William knew what was in Paris’ heart. The men were closer than brothers. Paris moved in front of Jordan and she smiled up at him, as he placed his hands firmly on his hips.

  “I will settle for no handshake, Lady de Wolfe,” he said flatly. It was the first time she had heard her new title and a shock of elation went through her.

  She grinned broadly, throwing her arms around his neck. He laughed low, giving her a firm squeeze before setting her down again. But he did not release her before he planted a loud kiss on her cheek.

  Kieran was next and she gave him the same treatment. One by one, each knight received the honor of a warm hug and a kiss from Lady de Wolfe. The last knight was Deinwald; he was trying to give her his usual hard gaze, crossing his arms in front of him as if he was protecting himself. But she could see the lips twitching and the corner of his eye quiver and she knew he was having a difficult time maintaining his facade. He didn’t want her to see that he would have liked a hug and a kiss, too. He was trying very hard to remain stern.

  She fixed him with a firm stare and put her hands on her hips. “Deinwald Ellsrod, do ye mean to say that ye are not going to congratulate me?”

  “Congratulations,” he said gruffly.

  She shook her head and opened her arms to him. The hard stance lasted only a moment longer before his face cracked into a large, boyish grin and he embraced her, kissing her cheek. She laughed with delight at winning the game.

  “Deinwald, unhand my wife,” William growled after a moment.

  Embarrassed, Deinwald pulled away quickly and allowed the earl access to the new bride.

  Jordan wasn’t sure how she should react to the earl. The man had very nearly violated her before dawn, but now he was the cause of her greatest joy. She attempted to form a pretty speech in her mind, but it was dashed the moment he began to speak.

  “Lady Jordan,” the earl took her hand. “As I begged for William’s forgiveness this day, I must also ask yours. What I did this morn was intolerable and I have no excuse other than to say that I was wrong. Mayhap it was an old man’s vanity. At any rate, I hope that in a small way this marriage makes up for my sins, and I pray that William makes you happy. I believe I can vouch for the lad’s character.”

  She relaxed and smiled. “I accept yer apology. And I am indebted to ye as well. Ye’re the most generous of men, sire, to put the needs of others before yer own. I can only pray that ye dunna find yerself in trouble over what has been done.”

  “If handled correctly, there should be no trouble,” the earl insisted with a smile. “If we can simply get through our sovereign’s visit, then we shall be relatively safe.”

  Jordan nodded, hoping to God he was right. The small wedding party finished the food and the wine, voices qui
et lest they be discovered. They were already pushing the limits of caution by remaining as long as they had, but no one seemed to want to leave. Least of all the earl. He stood with Adam, drinking a good deal of his private stock wine and chatting with Paris.

  William didn’t want it to end. He wished there had been music and minstrels and flowers filling every corner of the room, just for her. He had promised her that someday they would have a huge, fine wedding with those things, a wedding in which he could announce to the world that he had married the most beautiful woman who had ever lived.

  But for now he was content, for he never believed this event would occur while he was still young. He was married to the woman of his dreams, and that was all that mattered.

  Finally the earl set his cup down and moved toward them. “We have been here overlong, William. Mayhap you should bid your bride good-eve and let us be about our business.”

  Jordan looked stricken that he was going to leave her, but quickly recovered herself. She reminded herself that they had the rest of their lives to spend together, though she wished they could have spent their wedding night together. She was trying not to be selfish, but was not succeeding.

  William nodded. “Aye, my lord. The king should arrive come the morning and there is much to do.” She could see him transforming himself from bridegroom to commander as if he were changing a suit of clothes. “Go and change into your battle armor. We shall meet in the earl’s solar in an hour. Paris, you will come with me. Kieran, you will please escort my lady wife and her cousin back to their chambers and set the guard.”

  When he called her his ‘lady wife’ he had looked most sweetly at her, it was the only waver in an otherwise hard façade. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead before turning her over to Kieran and quitting the room in pursuit of the earl.

  Kieran watched her stare wistfully at the empty door. He moved into her line of sight and extended an armored elbow.

  “My lady?”

  She tore her gaze from the door, glancing up into his kind brown eyes. The other knights were filing from the room, as was Father Sutton, and Jordan took the offered arm.

  All of a sudden, her wedding was over and she felt a distinct depression at that thought. For something she had waiting and dreamed so fervently for, it was over quicker than she wished. Her husband was gone, off attending his liege, and she was now being escorted back to her rooms with her cousin just as she had been a hundred times over since her arrival. The rooms would be unchanged, her clothing would be the same, and the atmosphere would be the same.

  There would be guards in her hall, making sure no one molested the fair Scot lass. Tomorrow would dawn just as it had for millions of years, the same as always. Everything was unchanged in spite of the brief ceremony here tonight. Except there was one difference that turned her depression into soaring joy.

  She was now Lady de Wolfe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Henry III, King of England, and his wife, Eleanor of Provence, arrived to a herald of pomp shortly after the nooning meal of the following day. They had spent nearly a month at Beverley Castle and would be attending the earl’s wedding before heading back to Windsor.

  Jordan stood by the window, watching the incoming caravan with a great deal of nervousness. William and the other knights were in full regalia, down in the outer bailey forming an honor guard as the king and his wife rode in. Jordan could see him from where she stood, so regal and proud in the saddle. Even his destrier was decorated with plates of highly-polished ceremonial armor.

  Curious and agitated to a fault, Jordan wrung at her hands as she tried to get a better look at the man who had ruled England for twenty five years. When he climbed from his litter, she was afforded a good view of him; Henry was a small man, yet fairly well-built for his size and age. It was said he was fickle, weak-willed, and greedy. He had sold the two dukedoms of Normandy and Anjou simply for the money obtained and because he didn’t need them, anyway.

  He had all of England at his hand. But it was also said he was a temperate man, although she wondered just exactly what that meant, yet he was educated and had ruled England rather well after the tumultuous reign of his father, King John. He was neither outstanding nor a complete failure, but rather average. Still, she was wildly curious about him.

  Eleanor followed her husband from the litter, assisted by William himself. She was about the same size as her husband, but it was difficult to tell much more than that. She wore a wimple and veil that covered everything but her face, and a voluminous dark surcoat that revealed nothing of her figure. If she hadn’t been laden with jewels, she would have resembled a nun.

  The earl was there to greet his third cousin on his mother’s side. Jordan watched him scrape and bow and noted that except for the hair color, the king and the earl were as different as night and day. Alexander and Analiese were right behind their father, bowing and scraping as well.

  The enormity of the situation began to settle over Jordan then. Sweet Jesu,’ the bloody King of England was here, and to witness her marriage to the earl, no less. She hadn’t been particularly fearful until this point, and she moved away from the window when she realized she was growing terrified. What if the king found out what they were up to? What if he punished the earl and William? What if…what if…what if….?

  The dress she was wearing suddenly wasn’t good enough and she ripped it off, diving into her wardrobe for her emerald green silk with the golden trim. She struggled to put the dress on and to fasten the stays, not wanting to take the time to call her maids. With sweating hands, she put on her hose, garters, and slippers and ran a brush through her hair. Then she suddenly remembered she had a big green silk ribbon that accessorized the dress and she plunged into one of her chests to find it.

  She tied the ribbon around her head, pulling her hair off her face. She also dug out a gold and emerald necklace that had belonged to her mother and put that on as well, standing back after a moment to study herself in the mirror. Did she look lovely enough to be presented to the king and queen of England? Would they think her worthy of the treaty? Sweet Jesu,’ she hoped so.

  Jemma, who had been in the downstairs hall observing the activity, burst into the antechamber, her face flushed with excitement.

  “Did ye see them?” she exclaimed as she rushed into Jordan’s bedchamber.

  “Aye, I did,” Jordan twisted her fingers anxiously, then burst out: “Jemma, the bloody King of England is here. My God, what was I thinking when I married William last night? What is going to happen if the king finds out? We shall all go to the block.”

  “The king is not going to find out,” Jemma assured her. “Try to calm down. Ye dunna want him to see ye so nervous or he will think ye a ninny.”

  “I am a ninny for letting William and the earl risk their lives for me,” she wailed.

  “Stop that.” Jemma admonished her. “They dinna do anything they dinna want to. Ye worry over much.”

  Jordan paced about like a caged animal, chewing on her fingernails. Jemma watched her cousin, wondering if she should go and find William or Paris to calm her down. She knew for a fact that Jordan could get herself worked up into a frenzy quite easily and she had never had much luck calming her down.

  “Jordan, ye must relax,” she said, pouring her cousin a cup of wine. “Someone will be coming for ye soon to meet the king and ye canna meet him all shaking and silly.”

  Jordan took the wine and downed it all in one swallow. “I know,” she grunted as the wine coursed down her throat. “But I canna help it. I am so scared.”

  There was a sharp rap at the antechamber door and Jemma went out to open it. Kieran and Michael stood in the doorway, with Kieran smiling pleasantly at Jemma.

  “Greetings, my lady,” he said. “Is Lady Jordan dressed?”

  Jemma pulled him into the room. “Aye, she is, dressed and making herself sick.”

  Kieran passed a glance at the bedchamber door in time to see Jordan passing through it. S
he looked a little pale, but other than that, was absolutely ravishing in the green dress.

  “My lady,” he greeted her.

  Jordan ignored the knights and went right to the wine decanter. Pouring herself another full cup of wine, she took two huge gulps before Kieran took the cup away from her.

  “No more of that,” he said softly. “You will need your wits about you when you are presented to the king and queen.”

  Jordan stared back at him a moment before rolling her eyes miserably. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “I think I am going to be ill.”

  “Nay, you are not,” Kieran said firmly yet gently, taking her arm. “You are going to be fine and bring a great deal of pride to your countrymen.”

  Jordan didn’t know why she should listen to him, but she did. His wisdom and his tone went beyond mere superficial words. He had that air about him that he meant what he said. She liked Kieran; she always had ever since the first night they met, and she was glad that he and Jemma were coming together.

  “When are they expecting me?” she asked, forcing herself to calm.

  “The earl has taken them into the grand hall for refreshments and they will be expecting you shortly,” he replied.

  She nodded. “Where is my husband?”

  “He is with them,” Michael said, standing next to Kieran. “In fact, the king has latched onto William like a leech and has refused to let him out of his sight, m-much to William’s annoyance.”

  Jordan smiled at that mental picture. “Canna exactly be rude to the king now, can he? Then I believe I can forgive him for not coming to retrieve me himself.”

  The knights returned her smile, relieved she was regaining her composure. Jemma thrust herself forward, grabbing Kieran’s arm possessively.

  “Stop smiling at him like that, Jordi,” she sniffed good-naturedly. “Ye’re married already.”

  Jordan grinned at her cousin and threw her arms around Kieran’s massive arm, pressing herself against him.