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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “The queen’s lady, Aloria, has discovered our secret,” he said quietly. “I accused her of spying and took her down to the cellar where I was planning on disposing of her, yet she managed to convince me that she was not spying and for the moment, she is spared. The fact remains, however, that she holds a catastrophic bit of information and I must seek your wisdom in this matter, my lord.”

  De Longley looked at his captain a moment in shock before turning away, wandering listlessly toward his desk. “Great Gods, William. How on earth did she find out?”

  William shook his head. “I was in Jordan’s chambers and she came upon us and heard a bit of our conversation. Not much, but enough.”

  The earl let out a sort of strangled grunt, scratching his thinning hair. “And you are sure she is not a spy from Henry?”

  “She swears on the Holy Bible that she is not, and I am forced to agree with her,” William replied. “In hindsight, I do not believe her to be the spying sort. I may be wrong, but I do not think so. And neither does my wife.”

  De Longley’s eyes snapped up to him. “And how does your wife fare through this?”

  William’s face took on a completely miserable expression that caught the earl off guard. “Not well, my lord. Not well at all.”

  De Longley waited for him to elaborate but when he didn’t, he continued on. “And what does this woman say about our ‘secret?’”

  “She says she cares not, that she only wishes to serve my wife. She is most insistent about it,” his captain replied.

  The earl sat heavily behind his desk, folding his hands thoughtfully. He was silent for several long minutes, during which time William had poured himself two large cups of wine and drank them both. Paris had settled himself on the window seat while Kieran leaned against the wall by the door. All of them were waiting for the earl to make a decision, and William was greatly relieved that it was no longer his to make.

  “I am not an advocate of murder, William,” de Longley finally said. “If this were a clear case of malicious spying, then there would be no question of execution. However, the girl’s denials cast a doubt on the charges. If you say she is not a spy, and if you believe she will not divulge the information she has acquired, then I am in favor of allowing her to live.”

  William nodded silently, watching de Longley’s tired, old face. “As you wish, my lord.”

  “And I furthermore believe she should be allowed to continue to serve your wife,” the earl looked at him. “For various reasons, the first being that you will better be able to keep a watchful eye on the woman. And secondly, because Lady de Wolfe wishes it. This situation may not be as devastating as we believe, at least I hope not. But I will leave the final decision up to you.”

  William held his gaze a moment. “If you believe it wise, then I will agree.”

  De Longley nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Where is the woman?”

  “Still in the cellar,” William answered.

  “Release her then, but warn her,” the earl instructed. “And not a word of this to anyone else. This predicament goes no further than these walls.”

  “Aye, my lord,” William replied formally. Paris and Kieran stood tall from their slouches, knowing the conversation had concluded and the decision had been made. The earl was starting to speak again when there was a soft rap at the closed door, and Kieran opened it.

  Michael stood in the doorway, his gaze seeking out William. “M-my lord, your wife has just ridden from Northwood with Father Sutton.”

  “She what?” William boomed.

  The earl was on his feet. “I sent Father Sutton up to your wife’s chambers, William, so she could help him with the mass. They were to work on it in the privacy of her bower.”

  “She was locked in her bedchamber,” William said, and suddenly let out a hissing sigh. “Damn, he must have let her out.”

  “Was Jemma with them?” Kieran asked Michael.

  The big man nodded. “Aye, she was.”

  William slapped a hand to his head in unbelievable frustration. “Is it possible she is seeking sanctuary?”

  “Sanctuary? For what?” the earl demanded.

  William’s hand fell back to his side. He was having difficulty grasping events as they unfolded. “She was hysterical about Aloria,” he said, distressed. “She knew my intentions and she fought fiercely to defend the woman. I can only assume that she is angry enough to try and escape me.”

  The earl shook his head. Great Gods, life had been so simple before the addition of beautiful Lady Jordan. Now he could barely keep track of current events as they happened.

  “Go and get her, lad; waste no time.” He waved his knights on. “And not a word to anyone. Great Gods, I can only pray Henry does not catch wind of the goings on around here. And bring her back before the feast tonight.”

  The knights were gone, jogging out of the castle to the knights’ quarters, donning the rest of their battle armor and ordering horses saddled and brought around. William, Paris, Kieran and Michael were joined by Ranulf and Deinwald as they mounted up.

  “Who in the hell was in charge of the gate and let her through?” William demanded angrily to everyone, anyone.

  “Jason had the wall, my lord,” Ranulf replied. “But the gates were open and she was gone before he could stop her.”

  Lewis approached his captain from his position on the inner wall, wondering what was going on. William slapped his helmet on and stabbed a finger at the young knight.

  “Lewis, tell Marc that he is in charge until I return,” he commanded. “Round up Corin and Adam and tell them I want security tightened and the gates closed immediately. We’ve the bloody king to protect.” Hell, if his wife was able to slip out, then who would be able to slip in? He was angry at the lack of security; and angry at everything.

  The six knights barreled out of Northwood and raced down the road that skirted the small village, headed towards Father Sutton’s church.

  He was damn well furious, but he was also scared. He was always scared when he was unable to protect Jordan. Yet he was also fearful that she would be unable to forgive him, even though he had not carried out his threat. She was so bloody sensitive and caring that he was afraid his actions had somehow scarred their relationship.

  With renewed determination, he spurred his destrier faster.

  Father Sutton’s church was rather well-appointed for a religious order that swore a vow to poverty. And with the generous contribution the earl had made on William and Jordan’s behalf, it promised to become even more lavish. The knights reined their steeds to a halt in front of the church and dismounted in a racket of noisy armor, moving toward the entry of the holy structure.

  “William, if she had indeed sought sanctuary, then you cannot violate the church,” Paris said quietly as they approached.

  “I can at least speak to her,” William said firmly.

  “Not if she doesn’t want to speak to you. You know that,” Paris reminded him. “The priests won’t let you in.”

  “She will speak to me,” William said in a low, threatening voice. “Or I shall tear the bloody building down brick by brick.”

  Paris muttered a curse. “You cannot,” he hissed. “Let me do the talking, would you? You are likely to go off at the slightest provocation and the monks will slam the door in your face.”

  “Nay, Paris, I will do the talking,” William said as they reached the huge front door. “I am quite calm.”

  Paris snorted his refusal as William rang the bell.

  A small monk with shorn hair and dirty robes answered the door. William and the other knights removed their helmets respectfully.

  “Father, we are seeking Lady Jordan Scott,” he said.

  He priest nodded eagerly. “From Northwood? She is here. She is with Father Sutton,” he stood back to allow the men entrance. “Come in, good knights, but leave your weapons at the door.”

  William’s sword, in its scabbard, and five others landed in a pile next to the d
oor. So did the helmets.

  The interior was dark and smelled strongly of incense as the knights followed the monk into the chapel. Huge banks of expensive tallow candles burned brightly from all corners and furnishings were abundant. But the chapel was void of any living person, and William looked questioningly at the monk.

  “She is upstairs,” he explained. “Wait here and I will tell her you are here.”

  William put out a hand to stop him. “Would it be possible for me to announce myself?”

  He didn’t want to give her the chance to refuse to see him. Fortunately, the monk agreed and beckoned him to follow. William was given a bit of hope in this action, for if Jordan truly didn’t wish to see him then she would have left word. Yet he motioned for the rest of the knights to follow. If his wife and her cousin were going to act up, then he wanted reinforcements.

  The small brother led the men up a narrow spiral staircase that proved difficult for William and Michael to maneuver because of their height. Kieran, too, had difficulty simply because of his sheer mass. It widened at the top and opened into a narrow corridor.

  “Down here,” the monk motioned, moving quickly to the very end of the hall.

  “Hell of a staircase,” Kieran muttered behind Paris, who shushed him.

  The little priest reached a rather well-made oak door and rapped softly. Father Sutton opened the door, his eyes widening at the sight of the knights. He pushed himself through the door quickly and out into the hall, closing the panel behind him softly.

  “Captain!” he exclaimed softly.

  William forgot about his pledge to remain calm. “Why did you bring my wife here?” he demanded. “It was foolish.”

  The fastest way to go to hell was to be harsh with a priest, Paris thought dryly. But Father Sutton held his ground, unruffled.

  “A moment, sire, please,” the priest begged. “Let me speak with you for one moment before you take her back to Northwood.”

  “No,” William said coldly, moving past the priest.

  Father Sutton grabbed his arm. “Captain, I implore you. I only ask a moment of your time on your wife’s behalf.”

  Paris had hold of William’s other arm, silently pleading with him to grant the priest’s request. William caught the look in his friend’s eye and, reluctantly, removed his hand from the door latch.

  “Very well,” he said shortly. “What is it?”

  Father Sutton took a relieved breath. “Your wife is extremely upset, my lord. She told me what transpired this day and begged me to escort her here.”

  “Did she request sanctuary?” William asked suspiciously.

  “Nay, she did not,” the priest answered. “Sire, she brought with her all of her jewels, everything of value she has. She has given them to me for penance for your action. She wants me to pray for your soul.”

  William looked at him, stunned. Then, slowly, the selflessness of her action dawned on him and he slumped, putting a weary hand on his face. He had been so damn sure she had come here to flee him, when in fact, she had only been thinking of him.

  He felt foolish, guilty, and overwhelmed. “She did that?” he asked.

  “Aye,” the priest dared to smile. “She is deathly afraid you are going to spend eternity in hell for murdering the queen’s woman and hoped that all of her combined valuables would buy you salvation, though she still does not believe it to be enough.”

  William looked at Paris in astonishment. Then he had to turn away and compose himself. Did she really love him that much that she was concerned for every little part of him, including his immortal soul?

  “What is she doing now?” he asked huskily, his back still turned.

  The priest’s gaze moved between William’s back and Paris’ face. “Up until a few minutes ago, praying with her cousin,” he replied. “But at this moment, we are starting on the mass for the wedding tomorrow. I have never even spoken Gaelic and will need both of their assistance.”

  William squared his shoulders and faced the priest. “Then I will leave her here to work. My knights and I will be outside the church, waiting to escort her home. My orders are to have her back before the evening meal.”

  The priest thought a moment. “Then that gives us about four hours. Aye, we should be done in plenty of time.”

  “Good,” William’s voice was no more than a whisper as he turned away and headed back down the hall.

  “Captain,” Father Sutton called after him. When William stopped, he continued on. “Was it…was it truly necessary to kill the woman?”

  “She is not dead,” William replied faintly. “You might want to mention that to my wife and give her back her jewels. You certainly do not need them.”

  The priest simply smiled and reentered his room, quietly closing the door behind him. The small monk offered the knights food and drink, but William refused, instead descending the tight staircase and retrieving his equipment.

  Outside, he felt as if he could breathe again. But he was not sure he would fully recover, nor understand the depth of his wife’s devotion to him. He was so unworthy of her.

  He spent the afternoon contemplating Jordan and her loyalty. Nearly three hours later, Jordan and Jemma finally exited the church. But the women stood at the door, gazing back at the knights with uncertainty. William nudged Kieran.

  “Come on,” he said softly.

  The two men walked to within several feet of the wary women, with all four of them gazing at each other and no one speaking. William could read the pain and sadness in his wife’s eyes and cleared his throat.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She nodded silently, but didn’t move. The standoff was becoming uncomfortable until Kieran finally moved forward to Jemma.

  “Come, my lady,” he took her arm gently.

  “I can walk,” Jemma yanked her arm away angrily. She had obviously not forgiven him for being so rough with her.

  Kieran sighed apologetically and grasped her arms, forcing her to face him. “Sweetheart, I am sorry I was harsh. But you gave me no choice.”

  Her amber eyes flashed. “Ye pushed me.”

  “Aye, I did, but you were fighting me and I had to do something,” he said. “Hell, look at this bruise on my eye. You did that.”

  She hadn’t realized she had hit him. She looked at the bruise and suddenly felt guilty for it; it was quite purple. Her hard stance wavered.

  “I…I dinna mean to hurt ye,” she said, then suddenly her eyes filled with tears. “But ye scared me. Ye were going to…to….”

  She could not go on and he felt a surge of emotion, relief as well as regret. He pulled her to him, whispering soothingly to her, and led her away to his destrier.

  Jordan watched her cousin go with the knight, her gaze averted from her husband. William took a few timid steps closer.

  “Did you get your valuables back?” he asked softly.

  “Aye,” she nodded. “But not all of them. I insisted he keep some of the nicer pieces, William.”

  He didn’t like the tone in which she used his Christian name. “Why?”

  Her pale green eyes riveted to him. “Because I dunna know ye as well as I thought. You were going to commit murder, something I dinna believe ye capable of. I would have the priest pray for that part of ye that would knowingly kill a weaker being.”

  His misery returned in one blow. “You do not understand, Jordan. I was going to do what I felt needed to be done. Too many people’s lives depended on it. I am sorry if you cannot comprehend that.”

  “So am I,” she replied. “I thought ye were perfect, William. But ye’re not; ye’re just like all the rest.”

  She could not have done any more damage to him if she had taken his sword and gutted him. He stared back at her, naked pain in his eyes.

  “Please do not hate me,” he said, and could not help himself from begging. “I know you do not agree with me, but I do not regret my actions. There are things in this life that are necessary, though distasteful as they may be.
Would you have preferred, instead, for me to have done nothing and for Aloria to have gone straight to the queen with her knowledge? Do you realize what would, and still could happen?”

  She didn’t answer him; she was staring off across the small garden, overgrown with foxgloves. He sighed helplessly.

  “Then I shall tell you,” he said quietly. “For his blatant disobedience, the earl could be stripped of his lands and titles and taken to London for execution. I, at the very least, could be made to face the block at Northwood, killed on the very soil I have spent my life protecting. And you could be sent back to Scotland, in disgrace, and the Scott clan humiliated. Now tell me; is sparing one life worth losing so many others?”

  When she did turn to look at him, her eyes were glistening with hot, unshed tears. He could only gaze back at her, praying to God that she somewhat understood now.

  “Ye’re not a murderer?” she was begging for an answer to satisfy her soul.

  He shook his head. “Nay, love, not if I can help it, not if there is another way,” he replied. “Death in battle is one thing, but outright killing is entirely another. But I would murder all of England to keep you safe.”

  She crumpled, her hands flying to her mouth as tears spilled over her cheeks. “I know, English. Forgive me for doubting ye.”

  He caught her in his arms, holding her so close he was crushing her. He felt his eyes sting with tears at the pure relief he felt.

  “My sweet love, there is nothing to forgive,” he whispered. “If anyone should be begging forgiveness, it should be me. I am so desperately sorry you had to go through this.”

  She sobbed against his chest armor as he caressed her with gauntleted hands.

  “Ye frightened me so,” she whispered, muffled against him.

  “I know, love,” he cooed. “I am sorry.”

  He held her for a long, long time. When her sobs finally died down, he helped her wipe her tears away. She looked so pitifully tired and worn with worry.

  “Where is Aloria?” she asked hoarsely.

  “In the cellar,” he replied. “I shall retrieve her upon our return.”

  Jordan nodded as he tenderly took her back to his horse. The other knights watched the forlorn figure with great sadness as their captain helped her to mount.