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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Damnation, ’tis hot,” Deinwald sputtered behind them.

  “Get used to it,” Jemma remarked, “for ye’ll be spending eternity in flames.”

  Jordan grinned as Deinwald turned to Jemma, gearing up for another volley of insults. Lord knows, he had missed the abuse dreadfully when he had been in London. He always felt better when there was someone to fight with.

  “Is that so?” he fired back. “In that case, I shall save you a spot right next to me, for I will not be alone.”

  Jemma straightened in mock outrage. “How dare ye insinuate that I am damned to hell!” she snapped. “I am a mother, Deinwald Ellsrod, and incapable of evil.”

  “I did not insinuate anything,” Deinwald insisted, waiting until she backed down before hissing ‘Banshee.’”

  “Dunna call me that!” she shot back, turning to her husband. She pointed at Deinwald imperiously. “Kieran, hurt him.”

  Kieran laughed behind his lowered faceplate. “And deprive you of the joy of doing it yourself? Never.”

  Jordan giggled and she felt William’s arm tighten around her. Sighing with content, she noticed Paris silently riding to their right. Usually, he jumped in if there were any insults to be dealt to Jemma, but he was unusually quiet. She twisted around to face William and lifted up his visor.

  “What is wrong with Paris?” she whispered.

  He raised his brows. “I do not know. Why?”

  She didn’t reply, instead, passing another glance at Paris thoughtfully. Then, her face took on a sly expression.

  “My goodness, Caladora has never been this far south,” she said loudly. “I wonder if she is enjoying her trip in the back of a wagon. Lord knows, I find things much more interesting from the back of a horse with someone to answer my questions.”

  William looked at her as if she were mad, and she shot him expressions demanding he go along with her. But he didn’t have the slighted idea what she meant. Exasperated, she turned to Paris.

  “Paris, would ye mind too terribly if Callie rode with ye?” she asked sweetly. “I am sure she is terribly lonely with Jemma and I riding so far from her, and it would be wonderful if she could ride with us.”

  Paris turned his helmeted head toward her but she could not see his face. She wondered for a split second if he were going to deny her.

  “ ’Twould be my pleasure, my lady,” he said after a moment. When he was gone, returning to the wagons, Jordan smiled triumphantly at William.

  “What was that all about?” he demanded softly.

  “He likes her,” she said confidently.

  William cocked a brow. “Paris likes anything in a skirt.”

  “I didna mean it that way,” she scowled at him. “Dinna ye see the way he looked at her when he first saw her? Mark my words, English, He will marry her.”

  “What?” he half yelled in outrage and she shushed him harshly. “Jordan, your pregnancy is affecting your brain. Paris marry? Never!” he chuckled. Then he chuckled again. Then, he burst out laughing and she angrily turned around in the saddle, crossing her arms stiffly across her chest.

  “Just ye wait, William de Wolfe,” she sniffed. “I am never wrong.”

  He continued to snort and chortle. “I am sorry, love, I really am. But in this case you are wrong, mark my words. Paris will never marry, even though your cousin is very lovely.”

  Jordan cocked her eyebrow at him, still peeved at his snorting. “He will, too, and it will be Callie. So ye think her lovely, do ye?”

  “Aye, verily,” William agreed. “She is a beauty.”

  Jordan was suddenly jealous of her own cousin. So her husband thought she was pretty, did he? Well, of course she was, but she didn’t want to hear that from him just yet, not when her rounded tummy was becoming rounder and she was feeling more unattractive by the day. And what if, perchance, William had met Caladora first? Would he be married to her cousin now instead of her? She was daft with a humored sort of pregnancy-induced jealousy.

  Andrew d’Vant rode up at that moment, with his helmet off and his gorgeous auburn hair catching the bright sunlight and sending off a myriad of highlights. It was the first Jordan had seen of the mercenary soldier, and he was extremely attractive. After William had briefly explained the situation, Jordan was expecting a man by the nickname of the Red Fury to look like some wild red-headed monster. He was anything but.

  As the Red Fury rode up beside her and William, her husband introduced them and Jordan saw an opportunity to punish William for his comments about Caladora.

  “ ’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Sir Andrew,” she said as sweetly and as flirtatiously as she could. “I dinna expect to find such a dashing knight riding to my husband’s aid.”

  William cocked an eyebrow at her tone and went stiff with jealousy when Andrew ate it up. Andrew’s brown eyes met Jordan openly.

  “Thank you, my lady, and may I say you are indeed worth fighting for,” he said smoothly in his deep voice, tearing his gaze away for a moment to glance at William. “My lord, my physician is tending your wounded. Apparently your physician has more than he can handle. I did not want you to be concerned if you happened to glance back and saw a stranger attending to your men.”

  “Thank you,” William said evenly.

  Andrew nodded to Jordan as he dismissed himself, and she smiled brightly at him, watching him as he rode back along the column. With a dreamy sigh, she faced forward once again.

  “What,” William asked deliberately, “was that all about?”

  “I dunna know what ye mean,” she replied, bored, then turned around to seek out Jemma. “Jemma, did ye see the Red Fury? He had the most gorgeous red hair I have ever seen.”

  Jemma caught the twinkle in her cousin’s eyes and immediately took to the game. She enjoyed teasing William because he was ever so serious.

  “Aye, I did,” she declared. “And handsome, too. Lord, his skin is fairly borne of buttermilk and cream. He has a better complexion than most women.”

  “And his voice. Like the smoothest wine,” Jordan agreed.

  “Did ye see him off his horse?” Jemma asked. “I shall wager he’s a tall one.”

  Jordan opened her mouth but William pulled her to face forward again, locking her into an iron grip.

  “That will be enough from you,” he announced quietly.

  Kieran reined his horse next to them. “William, I want that man banned from the castle.”

  William nodded. “I have a better idea. Let’s gut him now. He leered at my wife and I will not tolerate it.”

  Kieran nodded sharply. “Agreed.”

  “Ye’ll not gut him,” Jordan cried defensively. “He is so handsome and there are very few handsome men in this world. Leave him be, English. I demand it.”

  “You do?” William was amused. “Did you, perchance, enjoy his leer?”

  She shrugged and didn’t answer, glancing at Jemma with a smirk.

  “I will kill him now and hear no more of this,” William said decisively. “I would have no man stealing my wife.”

  She laughed at him, spoiling her own joke. “As if he would want me. I am fat, pregnant, and already have two children. What man would want me?”

  “Me,” William said softly.

  “And me,” Deinwald replied, a little behind them. “Michael?”

  “Aye, I’d have her,” came the answer. “I’d have her with missing teeth and bald. Marc?”

  The red-headed knight nodded vigorously. “I’d take her with no legs and….”

  William shut them up with a raised hand. “Enough! No one will have my wife but me and I will hear no more of your lust for her,” he said, bending down to her ear. “There, are you convinced that every man who meets you would have you? Now, no more flirting with d’Vant or I really will kill him. Understood?”

  She turned slightly and flipped up his visor, pecking him on the bridge of the nose. “I love ye, English.”

  He squeezed her gently. “I love you, too.”

  CH
APTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  The wall had been completely rebuilt by the time they returned from Scotland, thanks to the peasants who had pitched in and worked nonstop. Adam had been extremely pleased at the loyalty of his vassals and promised a massive celebration feast in thanks.

  The feast had been going on all day and into the night. Countless pigs and sheep were roasted over open pits in the outer bailey and in the outer village, feeding a multitude of peasants and soldiers. Wine flowed and barrels of ale were continuous. There had been so very little to be happy over as of late that Adam was going all-out to return Northwood to a sense of normalcy, a sense of pride and strength.

  Sylvie and Aloria, along with Jordan’s Scot maids, were watching over Mary Alys and the twins while their parents frolicked the hours away. William had had a hell of a time separating his wife from the boys because she had missed them so, but he managed to convince her to bathe and dress and join the merriment.

  Her father had been even worse. The man took one lad in each arm and had refused to put them down, even when they began to cry because they were hungry. He was as content as Jordan could ever remember seeing him and suddenly, he didn’t look so old anymore. He was happy, returning to the Thomas she had known and loved all of these years. It warmed her heart to see her father make her sons laugh or sing Scottish ballads to them.

  Matthew had taken to Mary Alys as if she were his own daughter. She quickly got over her initial shyness and was soon laughing and hugging her grandfather, as well as getting acquainted with her two new uncles. Cord and Ian, thin and pale from their months in prison, ate continuously upon reaching the castle and ignored Byron’s pleas to slow down. Each man had lost a good deal of weight and seemed determined to make it up all in one night.

  Not one of the three men had said a word to Kieran since he had broken the news to them, and Kieran was actually apprehensive of their reactions. After seeing them to comfortable quarters, he had purposely avoided them to allow them time to grow accustom to the idea that their sister and daughter had married an English knight. He left his wife with them, hoping she could convince them that he wasn’t such a bad person. Since his brother died, Kieran had no other family, outside of his aging uncle in Nottingham, and he found that he truly wished to be accepted by Jemma’s kin. Thomas was already quite pleasant to him and he liked the laird, but what he really wanted was for Jemma’s father to acknowledge him as part of the clan.

  His confirmation had come the first night after their return. Entering into his apartments, he found Jemma and her father and brothers seated around the hearth, playing with Mary Alys. With a short nod to acknowledge those present, he proceeded to the bedchamber where he stripped off his armor, took a short sponge bath, and put on clean breeches and a tunic.

  His wife came in when he was putting on his boots.

  “What are ye doing?” she asked softly.

  He glanced up. “Dressing for dinner,” he said, letting his huge leg fall back to the floor. “Are you going to change from that dress?”

  “Aye,” she went to him, wedging herself between his legs and wrapping her arms around his thick neck. “What’s wrong with ye? Ye’ve hardly seen us since we returned.”

  He pulled her against him. “What do you mean? I have had a lot to do and….”

  She shook her head. “Not that much. I know that Jordan and William have been together quite a bit. Ye’re not that busy, Kieran. What is wrong? Dunna ye like my family?”

  He looked a bit stumped, groping for words. “ ’Tis not that, Jemma,” he shrugged. “You have not seen them at all in the past year and I just thought…well, I assumed they wanted you all to themselves.”

  She ran her hands through his hair, forcing his head back to look at her. “They think ye dunna like them,” she said flatly. “They think ye’re an arrogant snob and that ye’re embarrassed to be a kin to a family with only a burned-out castle to their name.”

  His eyes widened. “They think that? ’Tis not true, I tell you.”

  “I know that, and I told them so,” she smiled. “But they think it anyway. And I think they are a-feared of ye ’cause ye’re so big.”

  He shot to his feet. “Then I must straighten them out immediately,” he said firmly, looking at his wife with concern. “Me? Arrogant?”

  She chuckled and he stopped a moment, kissing her sweetly before quitting the room with her in tow.

  Jemma’s brothers stood up when Kieran marched purposefully before them. Matthew, still rather weak, continued to sit but eyed the big knight warily. Kieran met every man’s eye before clearing his throat.

  “I understand you believe me to be ignoring you,” he said. “And I must assure you that that is not the case. I was simply giving you time to grow accustomed to the idea that I married Jemma. I never meant to imply that I didn’t want to be around you.”

  Cord and Ian looked at each other, but Matthew gazed up at his son-in-law.

  “Ye’re a busy man, Sir Kieran,” he said after a moment. “We dunna expect ye to entertain us. And we are used to the fact that ye married our Jemma. ’Twas no great sorrow to overcome. Hell, I thought she’d never get married.”

  “Da!” Jemma cried softly.

  “Well, ’tis true,” Matthew insisted to his daughter. “I dinna think there was a man in Scotland that could tame your wild streak, much less an English knight.”

  Jemma rolled her eyes in embarrassment but her husband grinned. “I have not yet learned how to control her, but I have learned that she can be managed when handled properly,” he said. “Besides, I do not want to tame her. I like her just how she is.”

  Matthew smiled and shook his head. “Then ye are a better man than I, sir knight. I dunna know whether to thank ye or give ye my condolences.”

  Kieran laughed softly at his wife’s misery. “She is really not so bad. It did not take me long to fall in love with her.”

  “Ye love her?” Cord repeated. “God help ye, man.”

  Jemma shot her brother a quelling look. “Shut yer mouth, Cord Scott, or I shall punch ye silly.”

  Cord grinned at her and made a face and Kieran could see why she was so confrontational. With four older brothers teasing her, she had had to defend herself.

  “Sir knight, I am pleased my daughter found a man that would have her,” Matthew said after a moment. “She has grown into a happy woman and for that, I am grateful to ye.”

  “Nay, sire, ’tis I who should be grateful to you for giving Jemma life,” he pulled her against him and gazed down at her. “She has become mine.”

  Matthew could see the love the man held for his daughter and was amazed and pleased. He never thought he’d live to see the day when Jemma would marry, much less marry a man who loved her.

  “Jemma, did ye pay him to say that?” Ian demanded, breaking the spell.

  “Nay, Ian, I dinna,” she replied with a smirk to him.

  Cord walked over and slapped Kieran on the arm. “By damn, if ye aren’t the widest man I have ever seen. Does this mean ye’ll beat us if we pick on Jemma like we’re used to?”

  Kieran grinned. “Nay, I am sure my wife would prefer to beat you herself,” he pretended to rub at his jaw. “I know for a fact she can hit about as well as I can.”

  “We taught her that,” Ian chimed in with a laugh.

  Kieran laughed, too. He could feel the distrust and tension fading away and being replaced by a warm understanding. God, he was almost weak with relief.

  “Will you come downstairs and eat with us?” he asked. “Dinner is about to be served.”

  Cord and Ian readily agreed, arguing over who was going to escort Mary Alys. Matthew, however, shook his head.

  “Nay, sir knight,” he said. “I am still feeling fatigued. Ye will forgive me for taking my meal in my room and retiring early.”

  Kieran glanced at his wife, and then his father-in-law. “Would you allow me to sup with you?”

  Matthew looked surprised. “Wouldna ye rather eat with yer wife an
d friends?

  “I eat with them all of the time,” he replied. “I would consider it an honor if you would allow me to dine with you.”

  Matthew looked positively pleased. Jemma was thrilled that her father and husband would be spending time alone, getting to know one another. It was everything she had hoped for; and more. She knew her father to be a kind man, but she had received her hatred for the English from his ideals. Mayhap the fact that the English had rescued him from the bowels of McKenna Keep weighed on him and he was willing to overlook his beliefs.

  “I shall have yer supper send up,” Jemma announced, kissing her husband.

  Kieran went to the wall and pulled a small table into the middle of the room, placing two chairs on opposite sides. Matthew rose stiffly, moving to one of the chairs. “A game table? Do ye play Foxes and Hounds, sir knight?”

  “Aye, I do,” Kieran nodded, then looked Matthew in the eye. “And, please, my lord. Call me Kieran. ‘Sir knight’ is not a term to be used between family members.”

  Matthew smiled and took his chair. “Agreed, if ye dunna call me my lord. ’Tis not what a son calls his father. How about a game before our dinner arrives?”

  Kieran went over an elegant cupboard and retrieved the case that held the game pieces. “Then what do you want me to call you?” he asked, sitting opposite him and setting the case down. Matthew focused on the game that was being set up Jemma, her daughter and her brothers were moving for the door, knowing they had been forgotten. But she lingered, just a bit, when her brothers took Mary Alys into the hall. She wanted to hear her father’s reply.

  “Ye can call me Matthew,” her father said, examining a fox. “Or da. Whatever ye want.”

  Kieran cocked an eyebrow, setting up his hounds. “Unless my wife objects, I will call you Matthew, then.”

  Matthew set up the rest of his foxes. “Whether or not she objects, ’tis not her decision to make. ’Tis yours and mine.”

  Smiling, Jemma quietly closed the door behind her, her mind finally at ease. They took to her husband as she knew they would, as she did.