William and Jemma fought over who was going to hold Scott until Jordan handed her Troy simply to shut her up. Kieran declared himself lucky to have Lady Jordan all to himself with his wife and William occupied.
Sylvie and Aloria greeted Jordan happily and went mad for the boys. Sylvie declared she had never seen such beautiful children and William proudly agreed. He had never been this proud over anything in his life, with the exception of his wife. But somehow, his pride with his children was different. They were a physical part of him; his flesh and blood, and being proud of them nearly didn’t describe exactly how he felt. There were not words strong enough to describe how he felt.
Jordan was afraid to ask Sylvie about her husband for fear the man had perished, but silently promised herself that she would ask Jemma when they were in private. Tall, blond and plainly pretty, Aloria seemed to look much happier now than when she had first arrived at Northwood. Jordan could not help thinking that she wasn’t the only one not cut out for life at the palace; Aloria was thriving away from that environment and the fact that Deinwald had returned put an extra sparkle in her eye.
Outside, the repairs were in full swing. The king’s troop provided a wonderful workforce as the outer wall went up stone by stone. Jordan thought that it was beginning to look a bit like the Northwood of old with all of the activity and peasants dashing about their business, and it did her heart good. Mayhap things would indeed return to normal eventually. But she was curious to know what became of her friends; the cobbler, the blacksmith, and the other craftsmen she had come to know.
Her hand nestled in the crook of Kieran’s big arm, Jordan strolled into the outer bailey. Behind her, William and Jemma were arguing over which one was the bigger baby. She put an end to the argument, telling them it was Troy, easily. But Jemma insisted that Scott had a bigger head.
Michael, Jason and Deinwald, their torsos stripped naked and sweating in spite of the cool temperature, waved to the party from their perch atop the western parapet. They had stones and mortar between them, repairing a broken corner. Jordan waved back, admiring Michael’s magnificent form. He could compete with William on that level, she thought.
“My, my, how I do enjoy half-naked men,” she remarked loud enough for William to hear her.
Jemma picked up her tone. “As do I,” she agreed quickly. “Especially Michael; God must have been paying close attention to his work the day that man was molded.”
“Agreed,” Jordan returned. “Do ye suppose he knows what kind of effect he has on women? If he keeps that up, we shall have maidens swooning all over the compound.”
“Kieran, I suddenly feel quite inferior,” William said casually. “And you?”
Kieran nodded gravely. “As well, my lord. Personally, I am much better defined than Michael. And you are much better shaped. I cannot fathom the interest.”
“I concur,” William replied. “For the sake of the maidens of Northwood, I will order the man to keep his tunic on from now on.”
“Ye will do no such thing,” Jordan said over her shoulder. “ ’Tis a rare and agreeable sight to behold. I hope my waistline is as fine as his someday.”
William cocked a brow. “Madam, your waistline is exquisite, and well you know it.”
She smiled coyly at her husband, her lashes sweeping her cheeks. William grinned back at her.
“Not me,” Jemma put in. “My waist has gone to fat.”
“Nay, it has not,” Kieran countered firmly. “It is perfect, as is the rest of you.”
They continued into the outer bailey and Jordan was relieved to see that the blacksmiths’ shop was semi-operational. The man looked up and waved enthusiastically at her.
“My lady!” he called. “ ’Tis good to see you have returned. And I see you have born our dead earl twins. How joyous!”
Jordan’s smile faded. She had forgotten that the population still believed her to be the dead earl’s wife. She suddenly felt very depressed and saddened.
William was between her and Kieran, putting Scott into Kieran’s arms. “I will escort my wife now,” he told him quietly, his gaze on the blacksmith.
He steered her away from the lean-to and they proceeded along the perimeter of the wall, observing the various stages of repairs and building going on. Jordan tried to focus on the construction, attempting to forget the inadvertent words of the blacksmith.
When the group rounded the corner that led to the kitchens, Jordan suddenly saw a tiny figure dash across the yard and disappear behind some burnt-out shacks. The certainty of what she saw forced her to release her hold on her husband’s arm and run after the child.
She ran to the spot where the little form had disappeared. William came up behind her curiously.
“What?”
“Shhh,” she put her finger to her lips and knelt down, peering inside the crevice. It was dark, burnt and smelled of soot.
“Mary Alys?” she called out softly. “Mary Alys, ’tis me. Lady Jordan. Are ye in there? Please come out.”
They waited for a few seconds when they heard some rustling inside the darkness. Something banged and fell down, and a dirty little face appeared in the light.
“Lady?” Came a tiny voice.
Jordan smiled. “Aye, Mary Alys, ’tis me.”
The little girl stepped closer, within arm’s length. “You came back?”
“I did,” Jordan replied gently. “What are ye doing hiding in here? ’Tis dangerous for ye.”
She glanced behind her as if the concept was not thought of. “I live here, lady.”
Jordan looked astonished. “You do?”
Mary Alys stepped out of the shelter, eyeing William with frightened eyes. “My mum wath kilt in the big fight,” she said. “My houth burnt down, too. I live here now.”
“Ridiculous.” Jordan insisted. “Ye will do no such thing. I am yer friend, Mary Alys, and I say that ye will come into the castle and live with me.”
Mary Alys’ pretty gray eyes widened, “Inside the cathle?”
“Aye,” Jordan said firmly, grasping the child’s hand. She looked up at her husband, daring him to challenge her. He gazed back at her with total confidence and trust.
Jordan lowered her gaze and marched passed him with Mary Alys in tow. “First we shall get ye a bath,” she was saying. “Ye look as if ye have half the bailey coated on yer little body. Then we must find ye some suitable clothes.”
Mary Alys mumbled something William didn’t catch, obviously stunned and pleased at her turn of luck. Poor little thing could not have been more than five years old. He admired his wife her generous, gentle soul. It seemed that not only did he have two sons, but he was to gain a daughter as well. The prospect did not displease him.
Jemma, still holding Troy, recognized Mary Alys as Jordan approached with her. She had not heard the exchange and was dismayed when Jordan repeated the story. She, too, demanded gently that Mary Alys come to live in the castle with them. And that repeated statement suddenly gave Jordan an idea.
“Mary Alys,” she turned to the little girl, bending down to her level. “Ye say yer mother died and that ye have no father?”
The child nodded sadly. Jordan gave a short nod. “Do ye remember my cousin, Lady Jemma Hage?”
Mary Alys looked at the pretty brown-haired lady. “Aye.”
Jordan’s voice was soft. “Lady Jemma lost her little girl not long ago. She is sad with grief, as ye are. She knows how ye feel to lose someone ye love.”
Mary Alys’ eyes were wide at Jemma, who gazed back at the child with amazing serenity. William could not ever remember that expression on Jemma’s face. He began to have suspicions as to what his wife was leading up to.
“Now she has no daughter, and ye have no parents,” Jordan went on softly. “ ’Tis sad for you both to be so lonely. How would you like to be Lady Jemma’s daughter?”
Both Jemma and Kieran looked at Jordan as if she had gone insane. But, at nearly the same time, they looked at each other as if the thoug
ht, and not a bad one at that, had not occurred to them. Jemma seemed to appear the most hesitant even as Jordan smiled encouragingly at her, very proud of her solution. When she saw Jemma’s doubt, she put her free hand on her hip.
“Well, it makes sense.” she insisted. “Besides, Mary Alys is so pretty if ye dunna take her as yer own, then I will.”
It was Kieran who finally knelt down beside Mary Alys, still clutching Scott. He gazed at the dirty little waif gently.
“My name is Kieran,” he said. “I am Lady Jemma’s husband.”
“You are a knight,” Mary Alys didn’t appear the least bit afraid of the massive man.
He smiled, “Aye, I am. Would you like to be my daughter?”
She was so cute as she looked at him innocently. “Would you love me?”
Kieran’s heart melted right then. No matter what Jemma said, he would take this child as his own. “Aye, I would.”
“So would I,” Jemma said, all of her doubt gone. She suddenly had the most amazing feeling of excitement and maternal joy. True, Bridget was gone and her heart still ached dreadfully, but that did not mean that there was no room for another daughter. Somehow the thought helped dull the pain.
Jordan was thrilled. She took Troy from Jemma’s arms. “Take yer daughter, Jemma. She’s a filthy mess and I am embarrassed that ye are so lax in yer duties as a mother.”
Jemma gently took Mary Alys’ hand, her eyes narrowing in mock outrage. “How dare ye suggest such a thing. I shall have ye know that my daughter will be the cleanest, prettiest, best-dressed bairn in all of Northwood. Come along, Mary Alys.”
Kieran handed Scott back to William. “Perhaps I can help them,” he said softly, his brown eyes finding Jordan. “Thank you.”
Jordan watched them go with tears in her eyes. William stood next to her.
“That,” he said softly, “was an amazing act of kindness, wife. God, you are remarkable.”
Jordan sniffed and blinked away her tears. “It made sense, English. They’ll be very happy, I know it.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”
Jordan smiled at him, her throat too tight with emotion to reply. Silently, they took their children back into the castle.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
That night, after the children were put down to bed, Jordan and Jemma sat in Jemma’s grand antechamber before a roaring fire, sitting in comfortable silence. It had been a long time since they had been alone together.
“How does Mary Alys like her new chamber?” Jordan asked.
“She loves it,” Jemma replied. “She kept telling us it was the Queen’s bedchamber. Kieran told her it was a Princess’ bedchamber because she was a princess. He is remarkable with her, Jordi. He is a natural father.”
“Mary Alys is a fortunate lass,” Jordan agreed. “I am so glad you have accepted her.”
Jemma nodded. “She is mine. No matter that I dinna birth her. She is mine.”
Jordan smiled, tilting her head as she looked at her cousin. “She even looks like you a little,” she said. “She has the same color hair, and the same curls as ye.”
“Aye, but her hair is much prettier,” Jemma replied. “And her eyes are such a beautiful gray. Have ye ever seen prettier eyes?”
“Aye,” Jordan said with an arrogant lift of her chin. “On my own sons. Scott’s are pale blue and Troy’s are turning golden like his father’s.”
“I noticed,” Jemma agreed. “Troy’s eyes are very unusual. But dinna yer mother have pale blue eyes?”
“I do not remember, of course, but Da said so,” she said. “In fact, Da said mother was the fairest lass he ever saw. He said her hair was white-gold silk and her eyes the color of a hot summer sky.”
“I dunna remember her at all,” Jemma said, staring into the flame. “We were so young when she died.”
The subject of her mother didn’t bother Jordan anymore, but it was years before she was able to talk of her without crying. Now, she could speak of her quiet logically. But speaking of her mother suddenly brought to the surface questions about her father’s fate and she felt her chest swelling with anxiety and grief.
“Has Kieran told ye of Langton’s fate?” she asked her cousin quietly.
“Nay,” Jemma said, saddening. “I havena asked. I have been a-feared to.”
“Me, too,” Jordan admitted. “Before William left London he promised me he would go to Langton himself. I havena even asked him if he did. I almost dunna want to know.”
“But we must know, eventually,” Jemma said.
“I know,” Jordan said dully. “Mayhap…mayhap we will ask together. We can support each other’s courage.”
“Aye,” Jemma nodded. “ ’Tis as good an idea as any. But ye do the asking.”
“I will,” Jordan replied quietly, wondering where she was going to find the strength to do it.
*
William and Kieran entered the room nearly an hour later, having supped in private with the knights. Kieran went immediately to peek in on Mary Alys for his own peace of mind before greeting his wife with a kiss to the temple.
“She is swallowed up by that huge bed,” he chuckled.
William grinned, pouring himself a cup of wine. “She will grow into it.”
Jordan lifted her cheek for a kiss as William settled himself in another chair. The four of them were quiet for several moments, relaxing at the end of a busy day. Jordan took a breath and glanced at Jemma. From the look on her cousin’s face she could tell that they were thinking the same thing. The time was now; they wanted to know what had become of Langton and their kin.
“English?” Jordan said softly.
“What, love,” he took a sip of wine.
“Did ye ever go to Langton as ye promised?” she asked casually.
He froze in mid-swallow. Steadying himself, he cleared his throat. “Why do you ask me that now?”
“Because ye havena said anything about it,” she turned to look at him. “Ye promised me when ye left London that ye would see to my kin. Did ye?”
He sighed. “Aye, I did.”
Jordan’s heart lurched. “And?”
He set down the cup. He knew she was going to eventually demand answers, but he was dreading giving them. He had hoped to spare her as long as he could.
“And, it was fairly destroyed, as we were told,” he said.
She blinked at him, expecting the answer but shocked nonetheless. “And my kin?”
This is going to the difficult part, he thought to himself. “Your father is alive, Jordan But your aunts, both of them, perished, as did your cousins Robert, Benjamin, Donald, and your Uncle Nathaniel.”
Jemma suddenly collapsed into deep sobs. Kieran knelt by the chair, holding his wife to him. Jordan glanced at Jemma, her own eyes spilling over with silent tears.
“Jemma’s mother was my Aunt Lilith,” she whispered. Jemma had lost her brother Donald as well. “Go on, English.”
William was reluctant but did as he was asked. “Your cousin, Caladora, was taken by the clans and your Uncle Matthew and your cousin Ian went after her. Your father did not know what had become of Malcolm or Cord. They simply vanished.”
“Malcolm!” Jordan hissed, tears splattering on the bodice of her dress. “The bastard, he is behind all of this, I know it. Ye should have killed him when ye had him, English.”
“Aye, I probably should have but you asked me not to,” he reminded her.
“And Callie?” Jordan suddenly shot to her feet in anguish. “They took her? Where did they take her?”
“I do not know, love; and your father doesn’t know either,” he put his hands on her arms in an attempt to soothe her.
But she pulled away from him, facing Jemma. “Yer father and brothers went after her, Jemma. Mayhap they are all still alive. But where would the clans have taken Callie?”
Jemma, sniffling loudly, brought her head up from Kieran’s neck. “I dunna know,” she said. “But if Malcolm’s behind
it, he always had ties to Abner McKenna. Mayhap they went there.”
“Wait a minute,” William put himself back into the conversation. “Agreed, Malcolm is a shady personality, but he alone could not have united the border clans. He may be involved, but he is not the force behind it. Yet your father also speculated that the clans might have taken Caladora to McKenna Keep.”
Jordan swung to her husband. “Where is my Da, English?”
“At Langton,” he replied steadily.
“But ye said it was destroyed,” she shot back. “Why did ye leave him there?”
“There are parts of it that are habitable. And he insisted on staying. I wasn’t going to force the man back with me, Jordan,” he told her. “Moreover, if there are spies about, ’twould not be good for Sir Thomas Scott to be seen with the English. Those clans left your father alive for a reason, love, and that was to teach a lesson to any other Scot who was thinking of a peace alliance with England. They left your father alive to witness the destruction of his life for his decision to make peace. If he were to be seen with me, then they would most likely return and kill him for a lesson not learned.”
Jordan stared back at William, her mind spinning with his words. Of course he was right, he always was. But the fact remained that her father was alive and she was deeply thankful. But she also wanted to see him, very badly.
William watched his wife’s beautiful face as emotions played on her features. He could only imagine what she might be feeling. He had told her as much as he dared, leaving out the part about the clans focusing their anger on her. To imagine their hatred towards his wife brought hatred of his own.
“Did ye tell him about us?” she asked after several moments.
“Aye,” he smiled softly at her. “He was stunned at first, but quickly came around. He seemed rather pleased to have The Wolf as his son. And he was ecstatic to learn of the twins.”
She looked at him, so miserable with the rest of the news she could not muster the strength to smile back. She was suddenly very, very tired.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 113
