Jordan was the first to move forward through the rubble. The debris were time-worn, old, as if the elements had beaten them down until they had become a part of the landscaping. As her shapely legs in the snug black breeches picked then way through the field, she could only think that this was not her Langton. The sights, the smells, the atmosphere were not the same and she realized with stinging eyes that her Langton died in that attack months ago. This was a phantom, a grotesque effigy to what had once been.
As she approached the huge stone steps, a figure appeared in the doorway laden with a massive sword. Startled, she froze in her tracks with fear until recognition descended on her like a boom.
“Da!” she cried.
Thomas hadn’t recognized his daughter in the peasant clothing she was wearing and had come to defend his home against intruders, albeit two small ones. When he heard her voice, saw her face, his mind suddenly went blank and the sword clattered to the cold stone.
The next thing Jordan knew she was in his arms as he swung her off the ground, squeezing her until she could not breathe. Tears of absolute joy streamed down her cheeks as she hugged her father, easing a year of catastrophic pain and separation.
“Jordi!” he finally gasped, as if he had trouble believing what he was saying. “Jordan Mary Joseph Scott. What in the name of God are ye doing here?”
“I had to come,” she told him in between sniffles and gasps. “My husband told me what happened and I had to see for myself. I had to see ye.”
Thomas was shaking with shock and excitement as his green eyes raked his daughter’s face. “Did he bring ye here?” he demanded. “I told him it wasna safe for ye. Where is he?”
Jordan looked ashamed, shaken. “He dinna bring me. Jemma and I… we ran away. Neither one of our husbands would bring us, so we brought ourselves.”
“Ye did what?” Thomas boomed in disbelief, then looked for the first time to his niece a couple of feet away. “Jemma Scott! Ye little minx, ye had yer parents worried to death with yer disappearance. Cord told us where ye had gone but we found it hard to believe ye’d be so foolhardy.” He held out his arm to her and she fell into his embrace. “Oh, Jemma, I should take a strap to ye right here and now. I should take a strap to both of ye.”
“Dunna be angry,” Jordan pleaded. “We just wanted to come home.”
She started to cry again; both women were crying and Thomas hugged them close. Lord, he was so glad to see them again even if they were daft for coming.
“Ye came here alone? Just the two of ye?” he repeated quietly.
Jordan nodded. “But no doubt William and Kieran are close behind us.”
“Kieran? Who’s Kieran?” Thomas demanded.
“My husband, Uncle Thomas,” Jemma supplied.
“Ye married an Englishman, too?” he looked down at her dark head. “Ye hated English more than any of us, lass.”
“Kieran is a sweetheart of a man, Da,” Jordan said, looking at her cousin. “And he’s as big as a tree.”
“So is that mountainous man ye’re married to,” Thomas reminded her. “I could hardly believe my Jordi married The Wolf.”
She smiled up at her father happily, reacquainting herself with his face. “Aye, I did, and I love him with all my heart. He is not as the legends paint him to be. He is wonderful.”
Thomas made a wry smirk. “He may very well turn into The Wolf of legend when he catches up with ye. How could ye be so daft? He will murder us both.”
“Nay, he will not,” she kissed her father on the cheek. “Oh, Da, ’tis so good to be home!”
*
William would not ride into Scotland with anything less than a fully functional fighting army. With two hundred mounted archers flanking the column, he mobilized 800 men within two hours and set off for the border.
He set a hard pace, planting himself at the very head of the army and speaking to no one. He was as grim and as serious as anyone had ever seen him. They would march until they reached Langton and plow through anyone who got in their way. He fully realized that the intrusion of a huge English army into Scotland would be interpreted as an act of war, but he was willing to take the gamble. Jordan could very easily be in the hands of the enemy right now and he was prepared to burn down the whole of Scotland to get her back.
All the while he kept thinking what he was going to say to her when he found her. Half of him wanted to take a switch to her luscious white behind for her flagrant disobedience, but the other half of him simply wanted to hold her close and thank God that she was safe. The fact that she newly carried his babe cut into him like a white-hot blade of anguish. He was, in fact, going to be rescuing two lives that belonged to him and he prayed with a passion that he would not be too late. God, what this woman did to him.
Roan rode behind him, watching The Wolf’s straight back and wondering if his cousin had received the missive. Was Andrew mobilizing at that very moment, or had the missive had been burned in a fit of haughty laughter? He furthermore wondered if William was going to skin him alive for his interference. He was extremely hopeful that everything would work out as he had planned, but he pondered with every fall of his destrier’s hooves if his actions were those of an intelligent man. Who in their right mind would undermine the legendary Wolf?
Paris, Kieran and Adam rode a little behind William, flanking him. Michael, Ranulf, Deinwald, Jason and Marc rode behind them, leaving Corin and Roan bringing up the rear of the auspicious group, directly in front of the men-at-arms. A departure from their usual battle marches, there was no light conversation and no laughter. They were all silent; deadly silent.
Adam, even as the new earl, had insisted on going. William could see that the young man would not be content to be a passive leader, as his father had been. Adam had been training for the knighthood most of his life and fully intended to take an active role in leading his army. William was glad for the first time that he was no longer captain of Northwood’s forces, for he certainly did not want to compete with Adam; he was used to being the sole leader in battle. He wondered how Paris was dealing with Adam’s new role, for the man had said nothing. And it furthermore gave him the hope that Paris might consider moving with him to Questing, leaving the young earl to lead Northwood.
William could only guess that he was four or five hours behind his wife, enough time for her to get into trouble. William gripped the reins tighter; ever since he had met her he had been unable to prevent harm from befalling her. The arrow, the infection and fever, the attack from the soldier, and de Troiu’s vicious attempt to take her… he had felt as if he had failed her in those situations, as much as he knew otherwise. He was not used to failure in any way.
And he would not fail her now. He may die trying, but he would not fail her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
It was close to dawn but Thomas had not slept the entire night. He sat awake, watching his daughter and niece sleeping on the stone floor, afraid if he slept he would awake and discover it was all a dream. He smiled at the two of them, sleeping exhaustedly. So he was to be a grandfather again, as well as a grand-uncle. ’Twas nearly the only bit of information they discussed before they both fell into a fatigued sleep. But he was gravely worried, for both their sakes.
They had to leave Scotland and return home, for he was fearful that the clans would catch wind of their visit and come for them. The thought of his sweet Jordan in enemy hands was enough to make him sweat with panic; lord, what they would do to her. And to Jemma, too. All of the knights in England could not save them if the clans came.
They had to leave immediately, he decided firmly. And as they could not go alone, he would have to take them himself. As joyful as he was to see them both, to know they were both happy and healthy, he knew he had to get them the hell out of Scotland or their pleasant state would be temporary.
Jordan awoke after daybreak to the beloved face of her father. He greeted her warmly and offered her a bit of cheese and watered wine for breakfast. She ate Jemma’s,
too, for when her cousin awoke, she went right to the basin and vomited.
“She is having a worse time than I am,” Jordan told her father solemnly.
In the daylight, Thomas showed them what had become of the fortress. His mood was upbeat, however, in that he planned great renovations. He insisted the clans did him a favor by forcing him to revamp his keep, but it was a still sobering sight. He furthermore proceeded to show Jemma the graves of her mother and brother and held her while she cried. But the remaining unspoken question was apparent in both of the women’s expressions.
“Where did they take Callie?” Jordan asked finally. “And where are Uncle Matthew and Ian, and the rest of them?”
Thomas shook his head sadly. “I dunna know, lass. I havena heard anything about them. All I can imagine is that they are prisoners, somewhere.”
“Then ye dunna think they are dead?” Jemma whispered.
“Nay, lass, I dunna,” he said firmly. “I feel that they are very much alive, although I dunna know why I feel that way. They are somewhere, holed up in someone’s keep.”
“All of them?” Jordan wanted to know.
“Aye,” Thomas was amazingly confident in his answers. “I simply canna believe that the clans would wipe all of the Scotts out.”
Jordan watched her father in the morning light. He was much grayer and thinner than she remembered. “Who, then?” she demanded in a whisper. “And where?”
He looked at her. “Ye want my opinion? I canna give ye facts,” he replied. “I think it is the McKenna because of Malcolm’s ties to them. Dunbar McKenna is a mean bastard and an opportunist. His plans were foiled when he tried to destroy Northwood, and with Scott hostages he still has a bargaining chip with the English.”
Jordan shook her head. “Why, Da? Why is this man so determined to destroy us?”
Thomas sighed. “Oh, Jordan, it’s an old tale,” he said wearily. “Dunbar doesna have one specific reasons. Sure, he says he wants to control the border, but what he most desires is wealth. He’s never had any to speak of. And he keeps changing his mind as to how he wants to get it. First, he wanted ye and Abner pledged to get his hands on Scott money. Then, it was the border scheme. With him, ’tis always something. Which is why yer mother never married him.”
Jordan looked at him, stunned. “Mother? Marry Dunbar McKenna?”
“Oh, he wanted her badly, I can tell ye,” Thomas nodded firmly. “Pursued Elinor, wooed her, but she saw him for what he was. And then I married her and Dunbar was forever jealous of me. I shudder to think what he would have done to ye if ye had married Abner. He lusted for Elinor something fierce.”
Jordan shook her head. “I never knew that,” she said faintly.
Thomas shrugged. “There was never any reason for ye to.”
They left the graves and wandered back into the crumbled fortress.
“Ye ladies will gather yer things,” Thomas said finally. “Ye leave for England today.”
Jordan and Jemma looked at him, shocked. “But…da!” Jordan whined. “We only just got here.”
“And ye shouldna have come, ye little scamps.” Thomas scolded, like he did when she was five years old. “I am therefore taking ye back home myself.”
Jordan’s eyes were wide. “No, Da. Ye canna!”
“Aye, I can and I am going to.” he said curtly. “Now, get what ye brought with ye and I shall go saddle the horses.”
They tried to protest further but he waved them off abruptly and donned a heavy, dirty surcoat. Jordan recognized it; it had once belonged to her Uncle Nathaniel. ’Twas probably the only clothes her father had left. But it was warm and offered protection as he marched out into the bailey were the horses were tethered in a small sheltered corral.
“What do we do?” Jemma demanded when he had left.
She turned to her cousin helplessly. “Go home, as he says,” she said. “We found out all that we could, Jemma. Mayhap we can convince da to stay at Northwood for a while.”
“But what of Callie and my Da?” Jemma insisted. “He says they are still alive and I wunna leave them.”
“What are ye going to do, Jemma?” Jordan asked sharply. “Go after them yerself? Ye can do nothing against the clans alone. We will have to rely on William and the knights to figure out a plan. We have to trust them.”
Jemma looked upset, but resigned. The women had naught else but the clothes on their backs when they came, and they tucked their hair into their caps and left Langton with a kiss and a promise to return, one day.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Jordan rode with her father atop the brown thoroughbred. She felt like a little girl again, holding him around his waist and watching the landscape roll by. Thomas kept up a steady stream of talk and she was relieved to hear her father’s true self returning rapidly. Until this point, he had seemed somewhat distant to her. But, once again, Thomas was becoming the lively Scot and both women felt a sense of normalcy returning. The more he talked, the easier he became.
The weather was cool for summer, but it was clear and bright as they trotted over the soft hills that were sloping toward the barren moors of the border. The last time she came south on this road, it had been with William.
Her heart jumped at that thought, she wondered if his anger would ease to find her returning on her own. And she furthermore hoped that he would help her convince her father to return to England with them for a stay. She hated the thought of him rotting away in the shell of her former home, alone.
At noon, they rested the horses and picked some wild blackberries for their meal. Thomas even managed to find an apple tree with some new apples on it, fruit that sat amazingly well in Jemma’s turbulent stomach. As they lounged beneath the sparse shade of a small Scot pine, Jordan began to feel as if she were a young girl again, listening to her father talk as if they had all the time in the world. She missed those simple times terribly, but in the same breath she was immensely grateful for her life as it was. It was far better than she had ever dreamed, even as a young lass. She had married a man upon which dreams were made.
They were back on the road heading for Carter Bar. Thomas began to feel safer and safer with each passing mile, putting more and more distance between his daughter and the clans. He tried not to think on it, focusing instead on his grandsons that he would soon see and wishing his sweet Elinor were alive to experience the joy. He patted his daughter’s arms as they wrapped around his waist, happy beyond words to be together again. He honestly thought he might never see her again when she left for England and was thankful his fears had been for naught. His show of faith had caused a turn in his life that he had never imagined; good and bad.
The landscape was green, but barren of many trees or shrubs. This was the border, and the moors that encompassed it. How many wars had he fought on this soil? He shook his head; there had been too many to count. He could still see the dead; recognizing tartan. He could smell the stench of death and see the English; well-organized and lethal as they cut down his kin. And he could see The Wolf at the head of it, but he wasn’t bitter. After all, the man had married his daughter and brought more happiness to her than Thomas could have hoped for. For that reason alone, he would forget the scourge of The Wolf.
The three of them were focused on the southern horizon, not taking any particular note of their surroundings. Behind them to the northwest small dots appeared on the hills, coming toward them. Unnoticed, the dots multiplied in number and soon grew into distinct human figures on horseback. They zeroed in on Thomas and the women, weaving their way toward them at a rapid, steady pace.
Thomas, Jordan and Jemma were oblivious to the approaching wave, chatting softly about Jordan’s wedding to William. They were so oblivious to their surroundings that it was too late to do anything by the time they heard the flurry of hoof beats.
Thomas heard it first and nearly panicked. He yanked on the reins and spurred the horse at the same time, confusing the animal into rearing up and pitching both him and his daught
er onto the ground. Jemma, digging her heels into her horse, took off on the run of her life. Several Scots gave hot pursuit.
Jordan wasn’t hurt; just stunned. She rolled onto her hands and knees as dozens of horses halted excitedly around her, kicking dirt up into her face. She rose unsteadily, panicky, and stumbled over to her father as he picked himself up off the earth. They clutched at each other, their eyes wide and fearful at the host of riders that surrounded them.
Riders bearing McKenna tartan.
Thomas was dead inside. How on earth they knew, how in hell they found him, he knew naught. They had the devil on their side, a sorcerer with a cauldron who could read minds. But he did know that Jordan’s life was over and he held out little hope that Jemma would make it all the way back to Northwood for help. He pulled his daughter close, wondering what he could promise or pledge to Dunbar McKenna to spare her life.
Abner McKenna pushed his way to the front of his men atop a beautiful white steed. Thomas felt the bile rise in his throat when he realized it was Matthew’s horse. Lord, if he’d had a dirk, he would have taken both his life and his daughter’s rather than let her be taken by this man.
Abner gave a weak smile. “Thomas Scott. What are ye doing so far from yer magnificent keep?”
Thomas’ cheeks were shaking with fear and fury. “Out for a ride, Abner. Little more.”
Abner looked at him and leaned forward in the saddle, tilting his head. “Who’s yer lover?”
Thomas wasn’t sure if he recognized Jordan or not. She had her head down, staring at the earth.
“No one ye need concern yerself over,” he replied evenly. “Why dunna ye go away and leave us be?”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 116
