Abner dismounted the horse and went over to his prisoners. The power he felt at their fear was addicting. Reaching out, he ripped the cap from Jordan’s head and immediately her messy, glorious hair spilled out all over her.
Abner’s eyes bugged and Thomas knew that until this moment he hadn’t realized who she was. He cursed himself silently for not being quick enough to talk his way free before she had been discovered.
“Sweet Jesus, Joseph and Mary!” Abner exclaimed. “It’s her.”
Jordan raised her beautiful face, looking him right in the eye. His reaction was instantaneous delight.
“It ’tis!” he crowed. “Jordan Scott, right in my hands.”
Murmurs went up through his men and Abner swung to them. “Did ye hear me, lads? Little did we know when we went out on patrol today that we would capture the queen herself. God is indeed good.”
As small, amazed cheers went up and Jordan felt sick. All she could think of was her unborn child. She didn’t care what they did to her, but she was deathly afraid for the safety of the new life she carried. She felt her father’s grip around her tighten.
Abner swung around to her, his lips foaming with excitement. “Jordan Scott. Or should I call ye Jordan de Longley, Countess of Teviot? We are honored at my lady’s presence.”
He was mocking her, infuriating her. Damn, she never could keep her mouth shut. “Ye think yer so smart, Abner McKenna.” she shot back. “Ye know nothing about me.”
Thomas squeezed her tightly to shut her up. Abner must not know who her true husband was or it would sign her death warrant for sure. Jordan, silently rebuked, pulled back against her father.
“I know that ye are nothing more than an English whore.” Abner snipped back. “Sleeping with that soldier captain and then marrying an English laird. Dunna think that I am that ignorant.”
Jordan, thankfully, kept her mouth shut. Abner, seeing no reaction, calmed somewhat. Then, suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her.
“Ye’ll ride with me.” he yanked her cruelly away from Thomas.
“Nay!” she screamed, struggling.
Thomas lurched forward, only to be stopped by several soldiers plummeting down from their mounts.
Separated, Jordan and Thomas could do nothing more than stare helplessly at each other as Abner threw Jordan up across his saddle, mounting heavily behind her as she struggled to right herself.
“I shall take her back to the keep.” Abner announced loudly. “I dunna care what ye do with him.”
As he reined the horse around, Jordan grew hysterical. Her father, unarmed, surrounded by a dozen McKenna soldiers terrified her. He was a dead man.
“Da!” she screamed in anguish.
Her hand outstretched to him in torment. He called back to her, telling her not to worry. She was as good as dead, he knew, and so was he. He prayed that the soldiers would be merciful. But as Jordan’s hand extended to him, his reached out to her as if they could somehow touch even with the great distance separating them. But her face, the fear in her eyes, burned into his brain until he could see nothing else. He had failed his daughter and he deserved to have his life ended.
Abner pounded off across the moor with Jordan across his saddle, leaving Thomas alone with the soldiers.
Thomas didn’t care anymore. His reason for living was gone. He sank to the cold ground, awaiting a blow from even colder steel.
*
Jemma’s thoroughbred easily out-distanced the pursuing soldiers until they were well out of her sight. But even then she didn’t stop running, afraid that at any second they would somehow be nipping at her heels.
The horse’s flanks were coated with sweat as she pounded the endless miles to Northwood, her mind filled with terror. She was not used to fear or defeat and the knowledge that her cousin and uncle had been captured by the enemy tore at her until she groaned aloud in despair. Dear God, she had to find help for them.
The animal raced on and on, minute blending into hour until she had lost all track of time. Jemma had clutched so tightly to the reins and the mane that she imagined her hands had become a physical part of the animal. She had lost her cap way back and her black hair streamed out behind her as she raced like the wind. She was exhausted and out-of-control with apprehension.
Yet somewhere In the back of her mind she knew that Kieran and William were coming for them and she prayed to any god that would listen that she would come across them soon. Jordan and Uncle Thomas were in great, great danger and she was not sure how long her own strength would hold out. If she collapsed and died before she reached help, then no one would ever know the fates of Jordan and Thomas.
Their foolishness had brought them to this, hers and Jordan’s. She knew that now in hindsight, but at the time, their desperation to return home had overshadowed their fears. To risk the danger was worth the trip, they had thought. But it appeared now that the price for their attempt was far too high.
As her strength was waning, she saw something up ahead in the distance. The closer she came, the more she realized it was a caravan of some sort. Or an army.
She pushed the horse faster.
William and Kieran had seen her coming. Across the barren borders, they could see the rider approaching and they could see, even at the distance, a banner of dark hair behind her.
When the horse and rider drew closer and they could see it was Jemma, Kieran and William bailed from their destriers. Jemma showed absolutely no signs of stopping and they positioned themselves so they could reach up and physically stop the charging animal.
She ran between them like some strange gauntlet. William snatched the animals’ reins while Kieran unseated his wife, losing his balance and tumbling backward in the process. Jemma fell atop him heavily and instantly there were hands reaching down to pull her up.
Paris had her as the knights pulled Kieran to his feet. She was far gone with hysteria and panic as Kieran ripped off his helmet and grabbed her face.
“Jemma?” he demanded with tender harshness. “Sweetheart, look at me.”
William was there, his face ashen with terror. Kieran shook Jemma a bit, trying to make her focus on him.
“Jemma, sweet, ’tis me.” he said. “You are safe now. I am here and you are safe. Where is Jordan?”
Jemma slowed her gasping and screaming, gazing at her husband for the first time. Her mouth opened into a silent “O” and she dissolved into tears. William nearly went mad and Deinwald grabbed onto him to lend support.
“Jemma, sweet,” Kieran kissed her forehead. “Calm down. You are safe with us. Tell me where Jordan is.”
She was honestly trying to calm herself down but wasn’t doing a very good job. “Jordan…,” she trailed off, sobbing. “Oh, Kieran, they got her. Her and Uncle Thomas.”
William nearly collapsed but for Deinwald’s iron grip. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting off the nausea and panic that threatened him.
“Who has her, Jemma?” William’s throat was so tight he could hardly squeeze out the words.
Jemma didn’t hear him. She was still looking at Kieran. “We ran away, Jordan and me. We went home because ye wunna take us there. Uncle Thomas got mad at us and insisted on bringing us home himself.” She paused, gasping for breath. “We were near the border when dozens of soldiers chased us and I got away. They were McKenna soldiers; I saw the plaid. But I outran them.”
Everything they needed to know she told them. Jemma took a couple more gasping breaths and fainted dead away and Kieran swept her up into his arms. William pulled unsteadily away from Deinwald, already moving back toward his destrier. The knights disbanded, moving for their own mounts even as they tried to grasp the shocking news.
“We ride for McKenna Keep.” William was pale and drawn as he mounted his destrier.
“What about Jemma?” Kieran demanded.
“Give her back to Byron’s wagon,” William’s movements were harsh, abrupt. “We can spare no one to take her back to Northwood.”
Sh
e would be safe enough with Byron, although Kieran certainly was not fond of the idea of taking his wife to a battle. Yet there was no choice, and he was desperately worried for her health. Byron would take good care of her.
William’s hands were shaking as he gathered up his reins, and he took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. He had to draw the line here and now and separate the soldier from the husband. He would do his wife no good with his wild emotions and he forced himself to split from them.
Slowly, laboriously, the soldier in him, The Wolf, took control until his hands ceased to shake and he could think a bit more clearly. He resigned himself to the fact that the worst had happened and now he must remedy it. The sooner he dealt with it, the better for them all.
He had a nearly a thousand seasoned soldiers and knights depending on him. He was The Wolf, and only The Wolf could save Lady Jordan. William the quivering husband must be put out of his misery, for the moment. Steady yourself, man, or you are all dead.
“Paris!” he suddenly boomed. “Send out the scouts. I want a path to McKenna Keep and a status report on the surrounding areas.”
“Aye, my lord,” Paris replied, turning to bark out the orders.
“Ranulf and Deinwald,” William ordered. “I want the men with swords in hand as soon as we cross the border. I shall not make it easy for a surprise attack.” When his knights saluted and moved back along the column to deliver the orders, William slapped down his faceplate and turned to Michael. “Bring the archers forward so that they flank the knights.”
His men moving to do his bidding, it was apparent to everyone that The Wolf was with them and they knew that half of the battle was already won. Their adrenalin and their confidence surged. With The Wolf leading them, the fearsome Wolf of the border, defeat was not an option. And God help the bastards who held his wife.
*
The army came across Thomas Scott just inside the border. At first, William could scarce believe what he was seeing. Laird Scott was sitting by the road. Simply sitting. William dismounted and walked hesitantly toward the man, taking off his helm. Thomas still did not look up.
He stood next to Thomas for several long moments before crouching down on his haunches. Only when he put his hand on the laird’s shoulder did Thomas finally look at him with glassy eyes.
“My lord?” William said softly.
Thomas blinked. Then he blinked again and his eyes slowly focused. “Wolf,” he croaked. “Ye have come.”
William gave him a wry smile. “We were already on our way here,” he said with faded mirth. “Jemma found us. She said the McKenna took my wife.”
Thomas nodded unsteadily. His movements were slow and dreamlike. “Aye, they did. Abner McKenna threw her over his saddle like a sack of oats and took her back to the keep,” he replied weakly. Suddenly, his eyes welled. “Oh, lord, they took my Jordi. They will kill her.”
William stood up so fast that he had to step back to catch his balance. “Nay, they will not.” he bellowed. “Get up. You are coming with us.”
“She is dead, I tell ye,” he cried. “They are going to kill her and there is nothing ye can do, Wolf.”
William was losing his hard-fought control again. “Do not ever say that again,” he demanded harshly. “I will not hear it.”
Thomas wisely kept his mouth shut, wiping at his eyes as William struggled to compose himself.
“Why did they leave you here?” he asked after a moment.
Thomas actually showed some emotion other than sadness. He looked genuinely puzzled. “ ’Twas strange, lad,” he said. “After Abner left wi’ Jordan, the soldiers mumbled something about not wanting to bloody their hands with me and left me as ye see. True McKenna soldiers would have killed me.”
“True McKenna? Talk sense, man,” William snapped.
His father-in-law sighed heavily. “What I mean, William, is that the soldiers with Abner were still of different clans. This means two things; that the clans are still banded, but that they are having second thoughts about the alliance. Soldiers only repeat what they’ve heard or been told, and I am led to think that their lairds are questioning the wisdom of what they have already done.”
William looked perplexed for a moment, digesting the words. “Then, if it is how you say, Jordan might still have a chance,” he said quietly. “Come now; get up. We ride.”
Thomas didn’t move until William reached down and hauled him to his feet. Pulling the laird by the arm, he handed him over to a soldier with the instructions to take him to Byron’s wagon. Thomas did not utter so much as a protest.
Mounting firmly, William slapped on his helmet with one hand and gathered his reins with the other as his destrier did an excited dance beneath him. With a wide wave of his arm, the column was moving again to the northwest.
William was beyond angry. What he was feeling was the most explosive fury he had ever encountered. He would not be satisfied at simply retrieving his wife. He would burn McKenna Keep to the ground and kill everyone occupying it, and any other Scot unfortunate to get in his way. They were dead, all of them, and he would delight in taking the credit for the massacre. This was bloodlust.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Jordan stood in the filthy, stinking grand hall of McKenna Keep. She was shaking from the chill, from the shock and the fear that she felt as well as from pure fatigue. She was still dressed in the breeches, tunic and boots, wondering what in the world was going to happen to her now. Abner had left her in the company of a dozen horribly smelly, dirty soldiers who leered and smirked at her while he went to find his father.
She was terrified. Half of her wanted to fight and scream and kick her way from this place, but the other half simply told her to resign herself to her fate. She prayed vehemently that somehow, Jemma had gotten through and even now William was on his way to rescue her. Yet when she thought of her father’s fate, tears of grief sprang to her eyes. She wondered if the soldiers had been merciful with his execution.
“Greetings, Jordan,” came a familiar voice.
Jordan knew the voice. She stiffened and turned around, her face a mask of hatred and disgust.
Malcolm stood several feet away. When their eyes met, he stepped forward. “So they found ye, I see.”
She could not think of one rational thing to say to him. Her hatred was as great as any she had ever known.
“You bloody bastard,” she snarled. “I hope ye rot in hell for what ye have done.”
He actually looked saddened by her fury, unsure of himself. “I know ye hate me, as ye should. But what is done is done.”
“Then ye are behind all of this, aren’t ye?” Before, all of her theories had been purely speculation. Yet at this moment he had all but admitted it.
“ ’Twas not my grand plan, if that is what ye mean,” he answered. “But I did ride agin’ my kin. I had to.”
“Had to?” she said in disbelief. “Ye had to kill yer mother and father and brothers, and all of yer cousins? Dammit, man, yer a Scott. How could ye betray those who loved ye?”
“Ye never loved me!” he spat with sudden contempt. When she looked mildly taken aback, he nodded at her. “Am I right? Ye never loved me, any of ye. Oh, they loved ye because ye were such a sweet, beautiful girl, and they loved my sister and Caladora, too, and the other lads, but I was different. A black sheep.”
Jordan shook her head. “What are ye talking about? Ye turned away from us, Malcolm, not the other way around.”
“My father hated the sight of me.” he insisted. “So I came here, where people dinna judge me because I was a bastard.”
Jordan looked shocked. “Bastard? What are ye saying?”
Malcolm was pale. He swallowed hard, the pain evident in his eyes. “Lilith, my mother, was raped after Cord was born,” he said dully. “I was borne from the union. Did ye ever wonder why I dinna look much like a Scott? ’Tis because I am not a Scott. I am a McKenna.”
Jordan’s eyes widened. “Dunbar McKenna? He is yer da?”
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Malcolm nodded. “Aye, he is.”
Jordan was astonished. But the closer she gazed at her cousin’s light brown hair and wide features, the more she realized that he did indeed look like Dunbar. “Raped her, did ye say?”
“Aye,” he replied. “Matthew never told anyone about it, lest Lilith be shamed by it, which is why no vengeance was ever taken. No one wanted the truth to come out. So Matthew tried to raise me, tried to love me, but every time he looked at me he was reminded of the disgrace done to his wife.”
Jordan reeled with the knowledge. “Is that why ye came here always? Because ye knew it to be yer true home?”
“Nay,” he whispered. “I dinna know the truth of it until a short time ago when Matthew told me. But Dunbar knew it, which was why he kept me close to him and used me as his spy into the clan Scott. He had some daft idea for me to become Laird Scott someday.”
Jordan shook her head back and forth absently, horrified by the confession. Strange thing was, Malcolm did not seem the least bit pleased at the prospect of becoming Laird Scott. In fact, he looked very subdued by the entire situation.
“With all of the Scott males dead, then it looks as if ye are indeed Laird Scott, Malcolm,” she said softly, bitterly. “It would seem as if one of Dunbar’s schemes has succeeded.”
“But they are not dead, not all of them,” he told her. “Matthew, Ian and Cord are locked away in the dungeons below. Dunbar hasna decided what to do with them yet.”
Jordan sucked in her breath. Her father had been right all along. “And Callie?” she ventured hopefully.
“Ye’ll be seeing her soon enough,” he said. “She’s holed up in one of the chambers upstairs.”
Jordan closed her eyes in thanks. She felt relieved but still extremely apprehensive at the same time. Her eyes found Malcolm.
“What are they going to do with me?” she asked.
“I dunna know,” Malcolm said. “Mayhap use ye to whore. I dunna think Dunbar is planning on killing ye.”
Disgust and fear shot up her spine and she went stiff. “Whore? I would rather die.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 117
