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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I would retire now,” she said softly, turning away from them all. “Jemma, I will speak with ye more on the morrow.”

  William moved up behind her, escorting her from the apartments and back to their own without a word. Once inside, she went directly to their bedchamber, stripped naked, and climbed under the covers. William paused on his way to the bedchamber only to check on the twins. By the time he reached the room, she was already under the sheets with her eyes closed. He sighed sadly.

  “Talk to me, Jordan,” he said quietly. “Do not shut me out.”

  She stirred. “There is nothing I want to say.”

  He ripped off his clothes and crawled in beside her, pulling her against him. To his surprise, she wasn’t resistant and molded right to him.

  “I am sorry this had happened,” he kissed her hair. “I would have done my best to prevent it had I had the opportunity.”

  “I know,” she said. “I knew that the worst had happened, but it is still distressing to hear. I want to see my Da, English.”

  “Mayhap later,” he replied ambiguously.

  “Soon,” she insisted. “I must see him. Please?”

  “I cannot promise you anything, love,” he told her firmly. “At least not until I am sure the Scots have disbanded.”

  Jordan lay against him, grinding her jaw. She didn’t like being denied a visit to her father when it was so important to her. She thought she knew the clans well enough to know that if they were going to launch another attack, they would have done so by now.

  And Caladora; what of Caladora? Her sweet, gentle cousin held captive by raging clans tore at her heart. Sweet Jesu,’ what had happened to her and to Uncle Matthew and her male cousins who had pursued her? Her mind was swirling, thoughts upon thoughts, for there were just too many unanswered questions. Questions she must find answers for, for her own peace of mind.

  “Will ye take me back to Langton yerself?” she asked after a moment.

  “When I allow you to go, of course,” he replied. “No other would escort my wife but me.”

  And that would not be for some time, according to him. She could not wait that long.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Days passed into one another and became weeks. The only troops left at Northwood were her own soldiers and the king’s army. Brockenhurst had long since left for Deauxville Mount and Northwood was slowly but surely regaining her strength.

  Jordan had said very little about Langton since the night William had informed her of its fate, but it was all Jemma could talk of. She spoke so much on the subject that Jordan was growing quite weary and snappish with her.

  But Jordan was not speaking of Langton, not because it hadn’t been on her mind. In fact, she had thought of little else. She was going back to see her father and her husband be damned, but she could not seem to formulate a foolproof plan. She wasn’t that devious. But listening to Jemma rattle on, she realized who indeed was the cunning and sly female in her family. If she was going to Langton, then she needed her cousin’s help. She could not do it alone.

  When the two of them were alone one night, she bluntly told Jemma of her intentions and demanded she help her. Jemma, elated, not only agreed to help her but insisted she come along. After all, Langton was her home, too, and she would know what became of her father and brothers. Jordan worried about disobeying William and provoking his wrath, but Jemma wasn’t even concerned about it. She knew William would never punish Jordan, just as Kieran would never lay a hand on her, either. If their husbands would not take them home, then they would be forced to go themselves.

  They made plans, stole peasant clothes and packed for the trip, all the while pretending the situation was entirely normal. But every time Jordan gazed into William’s trusting eyes, she felt extremely guilty and deceitful. She rationalized her actions by blaming him for no reason, and somehow it made her feel a little better.

  She was going home. Yet, in the middle of all of her and Jemma’s secrecy, there were some wonderful changes going on.

  Scott and Troy were sitting up now, strong little pups that they were. She fell in love with her sons anew every time she looked at them, fed them, and bathed them. They, and William, were her whole life, but she had to return to Langton to satisfy a hollowness in her. All she wanted to do was see her da, hug him, and tell him that she loved him. That was truly the entire purpose, along with learning Caladora’s fate. William obviously didn’t understand the need.

  Mary Alys had become an integral part of Jemma and Kieran’s lives. Their world revolved around the little girl, who had blossomed from a shy little thing into a sweet, beautiful girl. Jemma kept her dressed in the finest frocks and doted on her endlessly. Kieran would take the child with him everywhere, even to the training field when the knights would practice. Mary Alys would perch herself on the fence and cheer for her father and the other knights, dispensing kisses to the victors of contests.

  William was constantly amazed that his hard, focused, professional knights, men he had known and trained for years, had suddenly turned into soft human beings since the birth of his sons and the addition of Mary Alys. They obviously adored the children.

  It was July and the weather was warm and surprisingly dry. It was in the middle of the month when Jordan discovered that once again, she was breeding. With the twins barely four months old, she wasn’t particularly surprised. She and her husband’s appetite for each other had been insatiable and constant. She was excited to tell William.

  She told him one evening after supper as they were walking along the nearly completed outer wall. He sat down on the edge of the parapet and pulled her between his legs, nuzzling her neck.

  “The evening is warm,” she commented.

  “As are my loins for you,” he purred.

  She playfully batted at him. “Is that all ye think about, English? Ye’re like a rutting stallion sometimes.”

  He nipped at her. “And you are my brood mare. Shall we mate?”

  “William!” she gasped in exasperation, looking around to see if anyone was listening in.

  “You are my wife and I may say anything I choose to you,” he insisted. “To hell with prying ears.”

  She toyed with the ties at the top of his tunic. “What did ye call me? A brood mare?”

  “In a manner of speaking, if I am to be a stallion,” he shrugged with a smile on his lips.

  “Then you are suggesting that I am only good for breeding?” she pressed.

  “I never said that,” he cocked a dark eyebrow. “You are good for a few other things, though I cannot think of any at the moment.”

  She opened her mouth in outrage and he laughed, pulling her to him and kissing her swiftly. She put her arms around his neck, her face very close to his, smiling at him lovingly.

  “But breeding is what I do best,” she commented leadingly.

  “Aye, you do it very well,” he replied before he caught on to her tone. “Scott and Troy are the finest sons a man could have, and.…” He suddenly looked at her with a curious glimmer in his eye. “Why do you ask?”

  She grinned. “Because it seems that I am breeding. Again.”

  His mouth hung agape for a moment before he clamped it shut. Then his eye took on a marvelous twinkle. “Again?” he repeated with awe, his hand instinctively moving to her faintly rounded belly. “God, love, are you sure? I mean, it is so soon.”

  “Aye, I am very sure, and it is never too soon,” she answered him. “I plan to give ye a dozen sons before we are finished.”

  He looked at her, shocked, for another moment before pulling her fiercely to him. She returned the hug as hard as she could.

  “Are ye pleased?” she asked softly.

  He continued to hold her, kissing the side of her head. “More than you could possibly know,” he said with deep feeling. “I love you, Jordan, with all of my heart.”

  “I love ye, too,” she answered, pulling back. “Dunna look so shocked. Everything will be well and I feel fine.”


  “You look wonderful enough,” he insisted happily. “I have heard that pregnant women have a color about them, and you do. All this time I thought it was me who caused the color in your cheeks.”

  “Well, ye did in a literal sense,” she smirked, but then sobered just a bit. “Dunna tell Kieran yet, at least not until I tell Jemma. I am afraid it will remind her of Bridget…”

  She broke off and he nodded in understanding. “Of course. But you had better tell her soon, for I am about to burst with pride.”

  “I will, I promise,” she said.

  They continued to kiss and cuddle under the nearly full moon until William caught sight of two people approaching them across the rampart. By the time Jordan turned to look, Kieran and Jemma were upon them. Both of them were beaming from ear to ear as they came to a reckless halt a couple of feet away.

  “Congratulate me.” Kieran roared happily, squeezing his wife. “I am to be a father again!”

  *

  The next day, Jordan and Jemma were sitting in Jordan’s small antechamber trying to spoon-feed the twins their first taste of porridge. The boys seemed to love the taste, thanks to the honey their mother had put in it, but actually getting the gruel into their eager little mouths proved to be somewhat of a challenge for all involved. It was no time before both women and both babies were spattered with the gruel.

  Mary Alys, good little helper that she was, spent her time wiping porridge from the floor, the women, and the chairs. Jordan and Jemma would squeal with disgusted laughter every time they got sprayed with the stuff, which was nearly every bite, but they persisted on until every bit was gone from the bowls.

  “Good God, is it always like this?” Jemma demanded, wiping gruel from her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “I hope not,” Jordan replied, wiping her hands with a rag. “For I shall be breast-feeding them until they are five years old if that is the case.”

  Jemma sent Mary Alys scurrying for a pitcher of water. As soon as the little girl had vacated the room, she turned to her cousin.

  “We leave tonight,” she whispered in a low voice.

  Jordan’s eyes widened. “Tonight?” she repeated, suddenly afraid and uncertain, but at the same time excited. “Why tonight?”

  “Because the moon will be full and we will be able to see our way better,” Jemma replied confidently. “If we ride hard, we should reach Langton by tomorrow.”

  Langton. Home. Jordan’s emotions began to swirl, but she nodded firmly. “Very well, then. We’ll leave tonight.”

  The plan was to pretend they were going for a short ride before supper, sans husbands. The gates closed at sundown and William and Kieran would await them at supper, not knowing that their wives had not returned from their outing before the gates were closed. Jemma estimated that she and Jordan would get a good three to four hour lead on them, which is all they needed. Once they were to Langton, even if the men demanded they turn immediately for home as soon as they caught up, they would have still seen Thomas.

  Jordan was as nervous as a fox the rest of the day, dropping things and chattering on and on. Fortunately, William had not been around for most of the day and did not pick up on his wife’s jitters. He was busy with Adam, directing the placement of some outbuildings in the outer bailey.

  When the time drew close, Jordan went into her bedchamber and donned the clothes she and Jemma had horded for this occasion: pale woolen hose, a pale linen sheath, a heavier black overtunic, and her leather boots. Over that she wore a high-neck riding dress that covered everything underneath. The purpose of the peasant garments was so that they would appear as youths traveling, not young ladies unescorted. Jemma insisted they should look as much like boys as possible.

  Jordan pulled her magnificent hair back into a single braid so that it fell softly over one shoulder. The braid was not only necessary for riding, but for ease when tucking it beneath the black caps Jemma had managed to confiscate. In her hand she clutched a small bag filled with apples and bread for their trip.

  It was nearing the time. Biting back tears, she went into the nursery to kiss the twins one last time, trying to appear as casual as she could to Sylvie and to the wet nurse. She told them she was going for a short ride and would return before supper. Then Scott grinned up at her and Troy blew a bubble and her heart nearly broke. In a flurry of emotion, she asked the women to take good care of her bairns and fled the room.

  Jemma was waiting for her in the stables. “What took ye so long?” she hissed, then shut up as the stable master brought out the two long-legged thoroughbreds the ladies were fond of riding.

  Jordan’s horse was a magnificent rich brown animal that she had ridden on several occasions. It had previously belonged to the dead earl. She mounted up, securing the bag to the saddle and covered it inconspicuously with her skirt. Jemma mounted a smaller, faster chestnut horse.

  “Are you sure you ladies do not wish an escort?” the stable master asked urgently. “ ’Twill be no trouble at all to…”

  Jemma cut him off. “Nay, good sir. We wish to ride alone, although we willna stray far. We will keep the castle in view at all times.”

  The old man looked at her doubtfully. He didn’t think it was a good idea for the two women to ride alone, but he did not argue.

  “As you please, ladies,” he said politely. “Have a good ride.”

  They trotted from the stables and through the outer bailey, running headlong into William, Adam and Deinwald. Jordan’s heart sank, for she knew her husband would not approve of riding without an escort. She was hoping to avoid running into him, although she had not seen him all day. She was positive he would be able to read her mind.

  “Where are you going?” he asked with a smile, going to stand alongside her.

  She swallowed. “Out for a ride with my cousin,” she replied, hoping her voice wasn’t quaky.

  “Alone? I think not,” he said with a cock of the brow.

  Jordan exploded. “Sweet Jesu, English, we’re not riding out into the waiting arms of the enemy. Jemma and I have not ridden alone for ages and we simply want to spend time to ourselves. With everything that has happened, is that too much to ask?”

  He did not appreciate the tone but he let it slide. After all, she was expecting and he knew women in her condition were prone to emotional outbursts. And according to Paris, Jordan was prone with the best of them.

  “Would you allow one of my knights to go with you if he promises to stay silent and out of the way?” he asked nicely, not waiting for her to fall into fits of anger.

  “Nay,” she insisted hotly. “I dunna want anyone along but Jemma.”

  “Not even me?” he asked quietly.

  That tone always soothed her, melted her. She gazed down into his loving face and felt her anger fade.

  “Usually, aye,” she replied more calmly. “But just Jemma and I, please? We have a lot to talk about; silly, feminine, maternal things. Please, English? We willna go too far.”

  He didn’t want to let her; damn, he didn’t want to. But she was pleading with him and he was weak. Oh, what harm could come to them, he thought with exasperation. He would have his sentries keep their eyes alert.

  “Very well, love,” he said after a moment. “But keep the fortress in your sight at all times.”

  “We will,” she lied.

  “Good girl,” he reached up to her. “Give me a kiss.”

  She bent down and gave him the sweetest, softest kiss she could ever remember giving him. Even he looked pleasantly surprised when he pulled back.

  “Not too long,” he warned.

  “I wunna,” she avoided his gaze, kicking the thoroughbred.

  She felt so damn guilty that tears stung her eyes. He would never again trust her after this, but it was something she felt in her heart she had to do. Mayhap someday he would forgive her, knowing how much he loved her.

  Soon they were pounding from the gates. Jemma took the lead, taking them down the road a way before darting
off the path and into a clump of brown foliage. For the next half hour they scampered about, jumping small logs, making sure that the soldiers up on the wall could see them every so often as they dodged in and out of the dead trees.

  Jemma knew that when they finally disappeared from view completely, the soldiers would not sound the alarm as they waited for them to reappear. Then, it was too late. By then, they would be on their way to Scotland.

  Sticking to the trees, they ripped off their riding dresses, revealing the clothing they had stolen. With the dresses hastily buried under rotting leaves, they rode from the sight of Northwood. The thoroughbreds were bred for speed, and raced like the wind through the cover of the trees until Jemma guided her mount to the road again several miles north, with Jordan following. Jordan felt as if she were running from the devil, which is exactly what her husband would become if provoked. Her mount could easily outrun his destrier, but it lacked the stamina of the massive animal. She would have to rest him before long at this pace.

  The miles distancing them between Northwood stretched out. With each hoof-fall, she came closer to Langton and closer to her da, and closer to heart-wrenching answers. But her heart ached that she had deceived William, and she missed her bairns already.

  No matter now; they were going home.

  *

  William had been involved with the reconstruction at the base of one of the wall turrets for quite some time before one of his sentries came down from the rampart and sharply saluted him. He gave the man his attention.

  “My lord,” the soldier said. “You had asked that we keep watch over your wife.”

  William nodded. “And?”

  The soldier did not look worried, merely puzzled. “She and Lady Hage seem to have disappeared. They rode into a group of dead trees and we have yet to see them emerge. Should we send out a party?”

  “How long have they been missing?” William asked.

  “A while, sire,” the soldier admitted. “Mayhap over a half hour.”

  William wasn’t overly concerned. “They probably stopped to rest a bit. Give them another half hour and if they still have not returned, inform me.”