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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  In fact, he was responding just as feverishly. They were giggling and laughing delightedly in between heated kisses until he grasped her face to stop her.

  “Jordan, love, you look magnificent,” he gushed for her ears only. “God, I could not believe it was you when we came riding in. What are you doing out here?”

  “Going for a walk,” she informed him joyfully. Her eyes drank in the sight of him. “Oh, English, ’tis so good to see ye!”

  His gaze turned soft and smoky. “You have no idea how much I have missed you. How are the twins?”

  “Fat and happy,” she said, grinning broadly. “They eat like little pigs and are already smiling. Ye’ll be surprised when ye see them.”

  “I have missed them,” he said. “I bet they’ve grown a score since I have been gone.”

  Jordan started to reply when a familiar voice cut in. “How come I did not receive a greeting?” It was Paris, who then turned to the other knights. “Why is he privileged to such a greeting? You would think she was in love with him.”

  Jordan and William turned around and it was then that Jordan realized William had brought his knights with him. All of them. She was speechless with delight.

  “Paris!” she gasped. “And who else? Damnation, I canna recognize ye with yer helmets on. Take them off, all of ye, so that I may see ye.”

  The mighty knights of Northwood revealed themselves to her, all of them grinning like fools: Paris, Kieran, Michael, Deinwald, Ranulf, Marc, Jason and Corin. She gazed back at them with pure joy, so pleased to once again see them riding with her husband. They were all so powerful, so massive in their own individual way and she was sure that her husband had the handsomest knights in the realm. Her heart swelled with pride and happiness; they had all come to escort her home and she knew that she would be the envy of every woman at court.

  But she noticed immediately that two were missing, and she did not recognize one of them. She eyed the new knight, his face pleasant enough, but her curiosity for the missing two was overwhelming.

  “Where are Lewis and Adam?” she asked her husband.

  His smile faltered just a bit. “I shall tell you everything in a moment. But for now, I would like to retire to our apartments and you can start packing your things. We are going home.”

  She gave a happy little laugh and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. The smell of her, the feel of her, was enough to melt him to the very core.

  All of the knights dismounted, their destriers taken by various soldiers, and followed a joyful William and Jordan back across the compound to where Byron and her escorts waited. Roan saluted smartly as William approached.

  “My lord,” he greeted. “We were not expecting you personally.”

  William nodded shortly. “Yet it seems I have come,” he replied, glancing at his wife. “Jordan, go with Byron and the others. Paris, Kieran, Roan and I will be along in a moment.”

  She looked a bit puzzled but obeyed, taking Deinwald and Michael’s arms and leading them back into the castle. When he was sure his wife was out of earshot, he turned to Roan.

  “What of de Troiu?” he demanded quietly.

  “The man is as persistent as a damn fly, sire,” Roan replied distastefully. “He came around as you suspected and demanded to see your wife. I sent him away, not once but several times. And just this morn we encountered him on our walk and I had to physically restrain the man.”

  William’s jaw ticked dangerously. He glanced at Paris before turning back to Roan. “Where is he?”

  “Wait a moment, William,” Paris interjected. “You cannot call the man out, not right now.”

  “Like hell!” William snapped. “The bastard is after my wife and now he will have to reckon with me.”

  “My lord, de Troiu is a favorite of the king at the moment,” Roan said. “As are you. He will not be pleased if either one of you met with a blade.”

  William opened his mouth to tell Roan to shut up when Kieran stepped in hastily. “Let us go to your apartments and help your wife pack.” He put a big hand on William’s shoulder and the other on Paris’ insistently. “Let us think this through for a moment before we do anything. Agreed?”

  He gave them both a shove and William was reluctant to comply, but he did. The four of them marched into the castle, drawing stares from all they encountered. Word spread like wildfire that The Wolf had returned to Windsor, and William knew it would simply be a matter of time before Henry was beating down his door demanding audience. He had to get to Jordan and calm himself down.

  His wife had taken the knights directly to their comfortable apartments. As soon as the men were through the door they began to demand to see William’s new sons, as she knew they would, and she was very proud to do them the honor.

  Reemerging from the nursery with one son in each arm, the aggressive knights immediately turned into calm, docile men as she presented her babes.

  She held the infants as the knights fawned over them, cooing strange baby language and confidently suggesting which son looked like which parent. Jordan was pleased and honored at their attentions, amazed that such fierce men could be turned into quivering, reverent humans at the simple sight of a baby. But she knew that it should not surprise her, for her husband had the same reaction. It was no time before she was handing the babes off to eager arms.

  Her husband and Kieran and Paris entered the antechamber a short while later. While she turned eagerly to William, Paris began to rant loudly.

  “Which of these little pups is my namesake?” he demanded with obvious delight. “I would have him now.”

  Jordan, tearing her eyes from her husband, pointed to the child Michael held. “That is Troy, Paris.”

  Paris went immediately to retrieve the child, oblivious to Michael’s protests, and smiled happily at the dark-haired boy.

  William came to her, putting his arm around her waist and smiling faintly as his knights delivered uncompromised attention to his sons. As badly as he wanted to hold his boys, he knew there would be plenty of time later. At this moment, he had more pressing matters on his mind that required a moment of privacy with his wife.

  Kieran stood back away from the group, his handsome face distant. Jordan could see his discomfort and pulled away from her husband to go to him.

  “How’s Jemma?” she asked softly, curling her hands around his huge forearms.

  “She is improving,” he said truthfully, forcing a smile. “She begged to come with us, but I forbade her and she is quite angry with me.”

  Jordan smiled sadly. “How is she faring with… well, with the babe gone?”

  His own smile faded. “She is faring as well as can be expected,” he said quietly. “We both are.”

  She knew he would tell her more later, when they were in private, so she did not push for answers. Instead, she went over to Ranulf and took Scott from him. Returning, she placed the blond babe gently in Kieran’s massive arms.

  “Hold him for a while,” she said with a tight voice. “He smiles now, did ye know? Speak to him.”

  Kieran gazed down at the baby, whose wide blue eyes gazed up at him curiously. It was such an innocent, comical look that he smiled.

  “Well, Scott, I see that you are looking more like your mother, thankfully,” he said softly.

  The babe’s reaction was to smile a silly, toothless grin at him that melted his heart. The pain of his own loss was somehow intensified, yet somehow lessened at the same time. He fell instantly in love with the little lad.

  “William, this child looks the spitting image of you,” Paris said gravely from across the room. “Why could you not name the child that looks like Jordan after me? I am, after all, blond as she is. Why must my namesake have your swarthy devil looks?”

  Jordan’s eyebrows rose in feigned outrage. “Are ye saying, Paris de Norville, that my son is ugly?”

  “Nay, my lady, not at all,” he amended quickly. “The child is beautiful. ’Twas your husband I was calling ugly.”<
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  Jordan went to William and put her arms around him protectively. “He is no such thing,” she said adoringly. “He’s the most beautiful man this side of heaven.”

  The knights chuckled at the use of ‘beautiful’. William put his arms around her. “How many times do I have to tell you that men are not beautiful?” he said.

  She smiled sweetly up at him and he returned her loving gaze. With their sons well taken care of, William decided that the time was right to have a brief discussion with his wife. He pulled her along with him into the bedchamber and closed the door behind them.

  Jordan watched her husband as he wordlessly removed his armor from the waist up. Her limbs tingled with anticipation at being able to finally touch his flesh and she wondered excitedly if he was going to make love to her at this very moment, even with his knights in the other room. But instead of opening his arms to her, he faced her with his hands on his hips.

  “What is all of this about de Troiu?” he asked.

  Her smile faded and her stomach twisted. She clasped her hands as she formed her answer.

  “He came around right after ye left for Northwood,” she said. “Honest, William, I was simply looking for someone to talk to because I was so lonely with ye gone, and Analiese’s new friends are a gaggle of silly chickens. He would come up and sit with me for hours in the antechamber, talking to me while I did needlework or sewing for the twins. ’Twas truly all there was to it.”

  “Were you alone with him when he came to visit?” he asked.

  “Aye,” she lowered her gaze guiltily, “but I dinna think anything of it until Analiese told me of the rumors.”

  “What did Analiese tell you?” he asked patiently.

  “That the castle was talking about the de Troiu and me, saying that we were…more than friends,” she felt sick spitting out the words. “She said that de Troiu was doing nothing to stop the rumors, but was encouraging them by telling people that he would have me. When she told me that, I had to write ye.”

  He paced thoughtfully for a moment and it scared the hell out of her. She had seen that look once before, before he smashed Alexander’s door in. She wondered if he were going to smash her in.

  “Did he ever touch you?” he asked.

  “Nay, never,” her eyes narrowed, incensed at the question. “I wunna let him, English. Ye know me better than that.”

  He put up his hand. “I know,” he said quickly. “I simply meant if he had he ever tried to touch you, or made unwanted advances.”

  “Nay,” she replied, still miffed. Did he trust her or didn’t he?

  He looked at her for several long moments, studying her lovely face. She gazed back with a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, wondering what he was thinking.

  “English, do ye think that I was deliberately sinful with the earl?” she asked, peeved. “Do ye think for one moment that I could be unfaithful to ye?”

  “Nay,” he replied before she even got the question out of her mouth. “I trust you implicitly, Jordan. Love, do not misunderstand my questions. I am simply trying to see the situation.”

  “And what is it that ye see?” she wanted to know.

  He gave her a humorless smiled. “I see a pampered, spoiled man who lusts for something that can never be his, and he does not care whose lives he ruins in the process.”

  “What are ye going to do?”

  He shook his head. “I do not know.”

  She took a few timid steps toward him. “Are ye angry with me, English?”

  “Nay,” he told her. “The only thing you are guilty of is beauty and warmth, and innocence. De Troiu would take advantage of that.”

  She turned away from him and sat on the bed. “I am afraid that I have shamed ye with these rumors.”

  He went to stand in front of her. “Never think that you have shamed me in any way, Jordan.” His tone scared her and her head came up to look at him. “You are my greatest single achievement in this life. You are my pride and my joy. The person to bear the shame is de Troiu.”

  She sighed, her eyes huge and sad. She was ashamed and depressed, and the sight of William’s face gazing upon her was enough to make her feel weak and childlike.

  “Hold me,” she begged softly.

  He dropped to his knees, his arms wrapping around her tightly. She clung to his neck, her face burled in the crook. It was enough to simply feel her against him, her fragrance enveloping him until his senses were reeling from the sweet torment of it. They had been apart so long and so much had happened that his heart was twisting from the joy after the long and anguishing separation.

  He began to kiss her, every bit of exposed skin on her neck and face. When he tasted salt on her face and knew she was crying, it drove him mad. He would kill de Troiu for the pain he had caused her, he vowed silently. But first, he would make sweet love to his wife.

  He began to fling off bits of his clothing between fevered kisses, unlatching his leg armor as she stripped off his tunic. Her dress was off in a matter of seconds, but he left the breeches and garters because he suddenly found them incredibly sexy. Naked, he pushed her back on the bed and covered with his huge, eager body.

  “Oh, English,” she gasped into his mouth. “I have waited so long for this.”

  His hands were all over her, massaging her plump breasts. “When I saw you in the courtyard this was all I could think of,” he whispered raggedly. “You look better than you ever have, wife. Having babies agrees with you.”

  She moaned softly as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, licking her erotically as his hand began to caress her woman’s center. She squirmed and writhed against him, her loins instinctively slick and wet in preparation for his massive organ. His mouth trailed hotly down her neck to her breasts and he gently took a swollen nipple into his mouth, tonguing it endlessly before suckling ever so softly. When he tasted her sweet milk, the essence of her motherhood, he went instantly insane with desire and sucked her dry on both breasts.

  Jordan was almost incoherent with pure ecstasy. Unbeknownst to her, tears of joy were streaming down her temples as he paid delicious attention to her ripe breasts. When he finally pulled himself away and dragged his mouth down her softly rounded belly, she knew he was seeking the very core of her and her legs parted for him intuitively.

  He lay between her legs, his hand gently stroking the dark blond curls. “It has only been six weeks, love,” he said hoarsely.

  “Are you sure I will not hurt you?”

  “Nay,” she said faintly. “There has been enough time, and I am healed. Byron removed the stitches long ago.”

  He had to see what she was talking about, see for himself that he would not re-tear the wound she received giving birth. He spread her thick lips, his finger running along the tiny, pink scar now slick with lubricant from her body. She was indeed healed and perfect and he was constantly amazed that such a small passage could accommodate him so beautifully, as well as birth two large babies. She was, as always, remarkable.

  He would wait no longer. Pulling himself up, he pulled her thighs up around him and drove into her. She stifled a moan at his entry, but she was so tight from disuse that it took him another surge to fully embed himself into her hot passage. He shuddered with satisfaction, feeling the walls of her core wrap around him.

  “God, Jordan…,” he breathed, withdrawing almost completely before ramming back into her.

  The process was exquisitely maddening. His thrusts were sweeter and more powerful than she had ever remembered and she was instantly responding to him, her hips meeting his with blinding force. Sweat coated their bodies, mingling, as they moved with one another, achieving the ultimate climax together and maintaining a bit of heaven for a small eternity until they floated, reluctantly, down to earth once again.

  He fell atop her, holding her beautiful body close to him for long minutes, wanting to remain there forever but knowing his knights were still in the other room. He had to smile when he wondered if they were all crowding about t
he door, listening. He didn’t care if they were or not.

  “English,” she whispered. “Yer men are going to begin to wonder what has happened to ye.”

  He propped himself up to look at her, still embedded in her. “If they have any brains, they know what has happened to me.”

  She blushed and slapped playfully at him with embarrassment. He laughed low in his throat and kissed her.

  “Have no fear, love, for they will say nothing,” he said, withdrawing to moans from both of them. He sighed heavily with the pleasure. “Not even if they heard our screams of passion would they mention them.”

  She grinned, running her hand over his face. “I love ye.”

  His gaze turned incredibly soft and loving. “And I love you.”

  They rose and dressed, Jordan fighting off a blush for she knew the moment she walked back into the antechamber, all heads would turn to look at her. On the other side of the closed door, she could hear a baby crying.

  “ ’Tis Troy,” she said, brushing her hair quickly. “He is hungry.”

  William looked sheepish. “And I ate his dinner.”

  She laughed. “The wet nurse is in the nursery, so have no fear that they will go hungry.”

  They went back into the antechamber and William retrieved both sons, kissing their little heads gently before passing them over to their mother. It was the first time he had held them since they had been born. Jordan avoided making eye contact with the knights simply because she was terrified she would flush a bright red if they as much as smiled at her.

  She quickly took the babies back to the nursery. When she returned, William was speaking to the knight she did not recognize, the new one that had come with them from Northwood, who had made himself practically invisible during the reunion.

  William saw her come back in and turned to her. “Jordan, I would like you to meet someone,” he indicated the well-built young knight. “This is Sir John Gainsborough. Gainsborough, this is my wife, Lady de Wolfe. Sir John is Captain Payton-Forrester’s second-in-command.

  Jordan bobbed a curtsy. “Sir knight, ’tis a pleasure.”

  He bowed gallantly. “The pleasure is mine, my lady. I am honored to finally meet The Wolf’s lady wife.”