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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  The wine tasted wonderful and soothed Thomas’ parched throat. Feeling a bit braver, he sat on the bench and dug into the other saddle bag, helping himself to a chunk of black bread. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite.

  William motioned to the other knights until they were all eating or drinking something, the past few days had been especially long and there had been little, if any, time to rest. After several minutes of partaking in the dried goods, William continued their conversation.

  “Where are all of your men, my lord?” he asked as he bit into a small green apple.

  “Dead, or run off,” Thomas swallowed a mouthful. “I carried near six hundred. The allied armies must have numbered over a thousand. We coulda held them off for a long while had we not had a traitor in our midst. As the armies snuck up under the cloak of night, someone opened our gate. After that, it was chaos.”

  William nodded. “And they destroyed everything and everyone in their path. How on earth did you manage to survive?”

  Thomas shrugged. “It seems they dinna want me,” he said, reliving the horror in his mind. “Seems they thought a fitting punishment would be to destroy all that I am, all that I have, and make me live to see it.” He fixed William with an awesome gaze. “But I know one thing, had they taken Northwood, what they woulda done to Jordi would have been…unspeakable. She is the focal point of much of this hostility because she married a Sassenach.”

  William stiffened. “They would not have touched her, I can guarantee you that,” he said with much more force than he had intended.

  Thomas looked curiously at him, cocking his eyebrow the same way his daughter did. William felt the pangs of separation stir in him again at that small gesture, but in the same breath wanted to laugh because he had resembled her so much at that moment.

  “Ye’re The Wolf, but ye arna God,” Thomas said. “They meant to take her, I say, and they woulda had they breached yer fortress. But thank God that they dinna and I have one thing to rejoice for. My Jordan is safe.”

  William was staring at the half-eaten apple in his hand, turning it over and over. “Even if they had breached the wall, she wasn’t in the compound,” he said softly, raising his head to look at the Scot. “She is in London.”

  Thomas’ eyebrows rose. “London? What is she doing there?”

  Paris heard the question, knowing the time had come to break the news to Laird Scott about the events in his daughter’s life over the past year. Silently, he motioned the knights to vacate the room and allow the two men their privacy.

  William caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and waited until the room was empty save he and the laird.

  “Events have not gone exactly as planned, my lord, as far as Jordan is concerned,” he began with a deep breath. “She is married to an Englishman, but she did not marry the Earl of Teviot.”

  Thomas looked stunned, completely forgetting about his fatigue. “What do ye mean, man? What’s happened to her?”

  William looked at him, wondering if he were going to be facing the sharp end of the blade once he told the laird the whole story. As he had seen the very first day he had met the man, Thomas Scott was extremely protective of his daughter. But, then again, so was William.

  “It seems she fell in love with another man,” he continued softly. “But, of course, she fully intended to marry the earl in spite of her feelings. That was until the earl found out. Since he had no interest in marrying her anyway, he allowed her to marry the other man with his blessings. And he would still honor the treaty.”

  Thomas’ eyes were as wide as saucers. “Married another man, did ye say? A man she loved?” he repeated. “And the earl allowed this in spite of the king? Good Lord, man, who was this man that he would make her forget her duty?”

  William fixed him right in the eye. “Me.”

  Thomas blinked at him a moment. Then it was as if an unseen force struck him in the chest, he sat back heavily and bumped into the wall, all the while staring at William in disbelief.

  “Ye?” he echoed, then louder. “She married ye?” He suddenly shot to his feet in amazement. “My Jordan married The Wolf?”

  “Aye,” William could read no hostility, only utter surprise. And a little amusement, he ventured. He began to feel a little more at ease with his confession. “My lord, I loved Jordan from nearly the very first that I saw her. The earl allowed me to marry her because of his respect for me.” He rose and faced Jordan’s father. “Even though I fought for the earl, ’tis well known who truly controls the border. I was the force behind the name de Longley. Whether or not she married me or the earl, ’twould mean the same result: peace along the border.” He left out the part about Jordan tending him on the field of battle two years ago, the true point in time he started loving her. He did not feel it necessary that the laird know that portion of the story.

  Thomas lost all of his amazement after that statement. “What does the king have to say?” he asked.

  “The king did not know at first, for obvious reasons,” William said. “In fact, Jordan and I were married a day before she was to marry the earl. The king attended what he thought was a wedding, when in fact, it was simply an elaborate mass. The priest did it all in Gaelic because the king understood Latin and we did not want him understanding what was said. Eventually, the king was informed and now he is most pleased with the arrangement.”

  “But Jordan is married to an earl, not a border laird,” Thomas reminded him. “What about the peace treaty?”

  “Aye, she is married to a border lord,” William told him. “You see, on the same day as Jordan’s mock marriage to the earl, I was bestowed with a barony. Castle Questing is now my seat, not Northwood. Jordan is in London because I was in London acting as the king’s champion.”

  Thomas was impressed. “Ye are the king’s champion?” he repeated, running his hand through his graying hair thoughtfully. “Good Lord, man, this is more news than I can take in one day. How can so many things happen in one short year?”

  William smiled faintly. “Amazing, is it not? I am sorry to have to burden you all at once with this, I had hoped for a proper place and time.”

  Thomas nodded, looking at William for a long moment. “The first time ye came to my fortress and looked at my daughter, I thought I caught something in yer manner towards her. I couldna put my finger on it, but I detected something,” he said. “So ye love her, too, do ye, Wolf? She is God’s angel on earth, I shall grant ye, so ye better be good to my lass or so help me I shall bleed ye right here.”

  William cracked a smile. “Truth be known, my lord, she runs all over me. She is willful, disobedient and stubborn. But she is also the sweetest, most beautiful woman on the face of this earth, and I thank God every day that I am fortunate enough to have her.”

  Thomas actually returned the smile. “Then I can see ye know her well. How is it that the mighty Wolf, the scourge of Scotland, has fallen in love with a Scot lass?”

  “Scourge of Scotland?” he repeated with a chuckle. “Sounds like the damn plague.”

  “To most border Scots, ye are the damn plague,” Thomas said with a twinkle in his eye. “Including me, up until the moment ye told me that ye married my Jordan. Now, I must say, I am rather proud to have such mighty ties.”

  William shrugged modestly. “Those ties did you little good when the clans attacked. I am truly sorry for what happened.”

  Thomas’ mirth faded. “Ye’re not to blame, lad. Those bastards were hell-bent on destroying me and even if ye had been here, it might not have made any difference.” He didn’t want to talk of that again just yet, he was still focused on his daughter. “Tell me how has Jordi fared over the year.”

  William’s expression softened and Thomas could read the love he held for her. “She has done well, in spite of everything.” He wasn’t going to mention all of the obstacles she had faced, not just yet. “In fact, not two weeks ago, she bore you two grandsons.”

  Thomas’ e
yebrows shot up and his mouth went slack. “Two grandsons?” he stammered. William laughed at his shock and delight. “Good Lord, man, ye might as well of hit me with a ram. My Jordi gave me twin grandsons?”

  “Aye, she did, and gave me twin sons in the process,” William said. “She named them Scott and Troy.”

  “Strong names,” he said simply, still reeling with the surprise. “Honorable names.”

  Thomas suddenly felt as if he had something to live for. When Langton had burned, he thought his life was over. Now he knew it was not. He had a legacy to preserve.

  He glanced about the room, moving away from William. “I would like to see her and the lads, of course, but I dunna think I should leave here. Not right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “The clans are still raging, lad,” Thomas said. “They may have retreated, but I dunna believe they are finished. ’Twould be best if I stayed here, lest someone find out I have been to England. They would most certainly come back and kill me then.”

  William nodded, understanding. “I am reluctant to leave you unprotected, but I understand your reasons. They believe that they have defeated you and it is best to let them think that for now. At least until we know what their next move is. In fact, ’tis probably not wise for my men and I to be seen here in case there are spies about.”

  Thomas nodded. “Correct. Ye must leave immediately.”

  William gazed back at his father-in-law. “What will you do now?”

  “There are dead to be buried, a keep to be rebuilt,” he said and shrugged heavily. “I will keep busy enough.”

  “Where is the rest of your immediate family?” William asked softly.

  Thomas took a deep breath. “Nathaniel was killed, along with his sons Donald and Benjamin. Lilith and Anne burned in the fire. I dunna know what happened to Cord or to Malcolm,” he sounded tired again. “The clans took Caladora, and Matthew and Ian went after her. I havena seen any of them since.”

  William had heard his wife mention her cousin ‘Callie’ several times. “Where did they take her?”

  Thomas shrugged. “Who knows? But I would guess to McKenna’s Keep or to Oliver Barr’s hold, if she is even still alive. If I thought it would do any good, I would trade my life for hers, but they wouldna take it. They want me to suffer, and suffer I have.”

  William felt a good deal of pity for the man. The proud laird had lost everything, yet he had also gained a great deal in the brief span of their conversation. Apparently the food as well as the information had bolstered his faded strength.

  William moved to the open door and saw his men standing several feet down the corridor. He motioned to Paris.

  “Laird Scott believes that it is not wise for us to remain here,” William told the captain. “We begin burning bodies tonight and leave before the dawn.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Paris moved away from him and back down the hall, issuing orders to the knights.

  William glanced back at Thomas. “We’ll help you with your dead and be gone.”

  “Ye dunna have to,” Thomas said firmly. “I am able enough to do it alone.”

  William waved him off sternly. “I will not hear of it. My knights and I will assist you.”

  “Ye dunna have to, I tell ye.” Thomas insisted forcefully. “Ye and yer men return to England.”

  William shot him a quelling look before he got control of himself. This man wasn’t to be ordered about like the rest, he reminded himself. “I now see where Jordan gets her stubborn nature from,” he said with a cocked brow.

  Thomas scowled. “Ye’ve not yet begun to see how stubborn I can be. Now, all of ye get home. I shall not tell ye again.”

  William faced off against the small man, his huge hands on his hips. He met the Scot’s scowl. “I married your daughter, did I not?”

  Thomas looked perplexed. Where was this leading to? “Aye, so ye say.”

  William raised his brows. “So I say?” he repeated, enunciating each word as if Thomas had insinuated he was lying about the whole situation.

  Thomas waved him off quickly. “Aye, ye did marry her, so get on wi’ it.”

  Satisfied that the man was properly convinced, he continued. “And I am also the father of your grandsons, am I not?”

  “Aye, aye, ye are,” Thomas conceded impatiently.

  William crossed his arms over his broad chest smugly. “Then it also goes that for the very reasons I mentioned, I am your son as well, am I not?”

  Thomas looked dubious at first, then his face relaxed a bit. “Aye, ye are at that,” he snickered ironically. “Good Lord, The Wolf is my son. So what are ye driving at, lad?”

  “Simply that it is a son’s duty to assist his father in any way possible,” William neatly summed up the conversation. “As your son, I will help you with your dead.”

  Thomas looked at him a long moment. “Ye’re a sly one, Wolf. Very well, ye may help me, but be gone wi’ ye come the dawn.”

  William grinned. “Aye, my lord. And by the way, you may call me William.”

  Thomas raised his brows. “Not The Wolf? Ye would take away an old man’s pleasure?”

  William laughed. “Oh, very well, suit yourself. Hell, your daughter does, no matter what I say.”

  “What does she call you?” Thomas asked.

  William gave him a twisted smirk. “‘English,’” he said. “Bloody hell, for the first week I did not even know if she knew what my Christian name was.”

  Thomas laughed, moving with William down the dark hall as they proceeded to the devastated bailey, feeling as if there were light and hope left in the world.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Kieran pounded into the bailey of Northwood as if he had no intention of stopping. Racing through the gates into the inner bailey, he finally reined his chestnut destrier to a halt. He nearly fell from the animal as he dismounted, his haste and fatigue getting the better of him. He had to get to his wife with an urgency he felt to his bones.

  The innards of Northwood’s keep were icy and dank as his boots made sharp noises against the stone and his armor rattled. He didn’t even know where Jemma might be, but he assumed she was in the same rooms Jordan had occupied in the family’s wing.

  That wing was his destination. If she wasn’t there, he’d tear down the damn fortress brick by brick until he found her.

  God help him, the closer he got the more apprehensive he became. All of the grief he had fought off was threatening to rampage once again in his heart, but he could not let it. He had to remain in control until he determined Jemma’s state of mind. He was actually fearful that she might hate him for having deserted her in her hour of need, but he told himself she had more sense than that. Jemma was hot tempered and over-reactive, but she was not foolish.

  His boots met with the expensive rug that indicated the wing of the de Longley family. He forced himself not to run the rest of the way.

  He paused outside the door that led to Jordan’s room, taking a deep breath to brace himself before entering. With a mental shakedown, he lifted the latch.

  The room was warm, a fire burning brightly in the huge hearth. He was immediately met by Aloria, her blue eyes wide with surprise.

  “Sir Kieran!” she exclaimed. “We thought you were with the army in the field.”

  He removed his helmet and tossed it onto the nearest table. “Where is my wife?”

  Aloria’s eyes took on another, more hesitant look. She glanced at the door behind her before taking a few steps in his direction.

  “She is in her bed, sire, but…I want to forewarn you,” she said quietly. “Her humor is bad and her moods are ugly. When your daughter died…I think a part of her did, too. She is having a most difficult time dealing with her grief.”

  Kieran looked at the woman before allowing his gaze to drift over her blond head and to the half-open door. Somehow he suspected that Jemma would not recover well from the death of the babe; her nature was too deep and too caring.

  With a sharp
nod, he went through the bedchamber door and closed it softly behind him, leaving Aloria alone in the large antechamber; wondering if she should stay or leave. Her heart went out to the big, gentle man.

  Jemma’s room was dark. He could make out his wife lying on her side in the huge bed and wondered if she was sleeping. Timidly, he moved around the bed to catch a glimpse of her face.

  “Get out,” Jemma spat.

  “ ’Tis me, sweetheart,” he said huskily.

  Jemma sat bolt up in the bed, her amber eyes wide with astonishment. Kieran was shocked by the sight of her; she was so pale that she was gray, and somewhere in her grief she had cut off all of her glorious dark hair. His eyes widened at the above-shoulder cut, choppy at best, and dirty as sin. All of her satin hair was gone. Yet through his astonishment, his first thought was how sweet and pixie-ish she looked.

  The bedclothes she lay in were yellowed with stain and dark splotches he assumed to be blood. He wondered horrifically if it were the surcoat she gave birth in and had refused to change it. Her appearance was even worse than he had imagined and he was sickened.

  “Ye’re here!” she gasped.

  “Aye,” he tried to smile. “I came as soon as I could.”

  She continued to stare at him, blinking with surprise. Then, suddenly, it was as if a cloud descended on her. Her eyes went dark as a stormy night and her pretty mouth pressed into a flat line. He knew instantly that all of his fears that she was angry with him were justified. It was written all over her.

  “Well, ye can just take yerself back to London, Kieran Hage,” she snarled. “I dunna need ye here. I dunna want ye here.”

  He braced himself. “Yet I am here just the same,” he said calmly. “I love you, Jemma, with all my heart. I am sorry I could not be here when the babe was born, but it was impossible.”

  “Ye weren’t here and the babe died!” she snapped viciously, slapping her hand on the bed. “I dunna want to see ye ever again. I hate ye!”

  He slowly began to remove his armor. “Even had I been here I would not have been able to save our child, Jemma,” he said patiently. “The babe was stillborn.”