Terror seized her; why were they fighting? Was it for the flirting she had done with the Red Fury? William had threatened to kill him, had he not?
Sweet Jesu, she was responsible for this. Off to the side she could see Paris and Kieran, and the others, watching intently. Why weren’t they stopping this?
She could not stand it. She had to stop this before William killed the man, it never occurred to her that the Red Fury could kill her husband.
“William!” she screamed.
He heard her and faltered, allowing Andrew to land a particularly heavy blow to his back. When Jordan screamed at the hit, he put up his hand and instantly Andrew ceased.
He turned to look at his wife where she practically hung from the top of the wall, her long hair streaming down around her. He could see she was terrified and was instantly sorry he had frightened her.
“What is wrong, love?” he called back, leaning wearily on his sword.
Her mouth hung open. “What is wrong?” she repeated incredulously. “What in the bloody hell are ye doing?”
He grinned at her. “Fighting.”
She hung her head at the ridiculously simple answer. She could see that. Her head came up again.
“Cease this instant,” she told him. “Go back inside. We have a surprise for ye.”
Over a thousand people stood and listened to this exchange with a smile on their lips. If there was any doubt as to who Lady Jordan had truly married, it was now abundantly clear.
William looked at Andrew and they both shrugged in resignation. They would grant the lady’s request, even though they had been having a great time of it.
Yet something good had come out of it, each saw the other for what he was and a strong bond was forged. William respected the Red Fury for his skill and grace, and Andrew was overwhelmed at The Wolf’s cunning and strength.
The crowd disbanded and William met his wife at the base of the stairs. He immediately saw her attire and his eyes widened in shock.
“What is this?” he demanded, pointing to her pretty bare legs. “What are you doing?”
She frowned at him. “ ’Tis traditional Scot dress, English,” she told him, as if he were a moron. “Only ye English cover every part of yer body. We Scots find it better to move unrestricted.”
He was outraged. “You will change immediately,” he said. “No wife of mine will cavort about half-naked.”
Jemma and Caladora were behind her and he suddenly noticed that they were all dressed the same way. All he could do was point at them in outrage, leaving the discipline to Kieran and Thomas.
“Why are you dressed like that?” Kieran calmly asked his wife.
“To dance,” she told him. “We are going to do the dance of swords for Uncle Thomas and my Da.”
“Oh, Jemma, now ye spoiled the surprise,” Jordan scolded.
“I had to or they would make us change,” her cousin shot back. “Look at their faces; they dunna like us to show our legs.”
“Your legs are certainly beautiful enough,” Paris said unbiased.
“Well, I for one do not want the entire population of Northwood gaping at my wife’s legs,” William said staunchly. “Dance or no dance.”
Jordan hopped from the bottom step and put her hands on her husband’s arms beseechingly. He looked down at her sternly, but they both knew he would give in if she begged enough. She smiled prettily.
“Please, English?” she pleaded softly. “Just one dance and then I promise I shall change.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I do not approve of this.”
She laughed softly. “I know, but ye’ll like it. Please?”
He pursed his lips as a final show of doubt, just to show his men that she could not sway him that easily, but everyone knew the battle was already over. With a grunt of frustration, he pulled her to him and they proceeded back into the grand hall.
Inside the hall, it had grown quiet when the occupants saw that they were to be entertained. At Jordan’s direction, Michael and Deinwald collected six swords and lay them upon the floor in three crosses, even-spaced apart. Jemma was over with the musicians, instructing them on what to play while Caladora stood by and watched the swords being placed.
William, Paris and the other knights were standing by the dais in a critical little group, haughtily disapproving of the bare legs and daring any man in the audience to stare at them for any longer than a brief moment. Even Andrew was standing with him, accompanied by his second-in-command, Thane Alraedson.
Kieran came into the hall moments later escorting his father-in-law, who was eager to see the dancing. His face had fairly lit up when Kieran had gone back to the apartments to retrieve him.
“I would never allow my wife such a display,” Andrew said, loud enough for them all to hear.
William and the others turned slowly to look at him. It was such a ridiculous statement that they all suddenly burst out laughing. Obviously, the man had never gone up against a headstrong Scot. And, obviously, he had never been in love.
Andrew looked at them curiously but did nothing more than shrug to emphasize his point.
Michael and Deinwald joined the others as Jordan, Jemma and Caladora took their places in front of the swords. A hush settled over the crowd as Jemma signaled to the musicians. Paris and William stood huddled together, their critical expressions growing soft.
“God, she has magnificent legs,” Paris murmured.
“Aye, she does,” William agreed softly.
“You are a married man. You should not be agreeing so readily,” Paris admonished him.
William passed him an impatient glance. “I was talking about my wife.”
Paris grinned wolfishly. “I wasn’t.”
The music began, quick and lively, and made everyone sit up and take notice. Jemma and Caladora, on the ends, suddenly leapt to their toes and began to jump and twitch and skirt the swords in perfect synchronization. After a few seconds of that, they froze in the pretty position they were in and Jordan followed, mimicking their movements exactly but putting a little spin into her routine as she, too, ended in the same position her cousins were in. When she spun around, her plaid belled up and revealed the entire length of luscious leg. William, as entranced as he was with his wife’s dancing, had this horrible fear that every person present would be able to see her most private part and was relieved to see that she wore some sort of strange briefs underneath. He found himself sighing with relief, reminding himself to yell at her later for giving him such a scare.
The music quickened and so did their dancing. They were as quick as foxes, their toes twitching and then legs kicking, huge smiles on their faces. They moved together with such precision that they almost looked to be of one brain. It was the type of dance that left the audience hanging from one move to the next, watching and waiting with excitement.
At one point they did a little jig about their respective swords, then each girl took a hop to the right, and the two remaining girls did a jig about that set of swords. Then they hopped to the right again, leaving the last girl, Caladora, doing a solo jig before jumping entirely free of the swords.
Next, in a line with Jordan in the lead, they proceeded to spin in a wide circle around the swords, spinning like tops with hair flying and plaid twisting about them. It was so perfect, so measured and so beautiful that when they resumed their dancing atop the swords, the audience went wild even though the dance wasn’t through yet.
William was grinning like a fool. He’d seen his wife dance before, but never this. Was there nothing the woman could not do? He was as proud as a new father when he suddenly remembered Jordan’s father was watching, too. A glance in the man’s direction showed him to be moved to smiles and tears.
The dance ended abruptly and the audience went mad, screaming and pounding the tables and calling for more. Quickly, and somewhat humbly, the women bowed and Jordan raced to her husband’s side, motioning for Michael and Deinwald to retrieve the swords.
She thr
ew herself into his arms, all smiles and laughter and panting. He held her tightly, kissing her sweaty cheek and listening to the cries for more.
“You were wonderful,” he exclaimed.
She laughed, trying to catch her breath. “Oh, my, it has been a long time.” she gasped. “I am exhausted.”
“They want more of the same,” Paris demanded. “Listen to them.”
Jordan listened to the applause and yells, thrilled with their approval but shaking her head all the same. “Callie and Jemma can, but I am too tired,” she let out a blustery breath and leaned into her husband. “Having babies makes me tired.”
“I am finished, too.” Jemma said firmly, in Kieran’s arms. “I feel as if I have just run the entire way from Langton to Northwood.”
Thomas pushed his way through the knights and Jordan embraced him happily. “Da, were ye pleased? We did it for ye.”
“Aye,” he pulled back, looking into her smiling face. “Ye were wonderful, as ye always are. Just like old times.”
“Then we shall do it every night until Jemma and I get too big to move,” she declared.
He grinned. “If yer husband allows it, Jordi.” It was all he would say, indeed he wanted to see her dance every night, but he realized William wasn’t keen on the traditional costume she wore in front of all of these people.
The applause died down and the music began again, this time a traditional English ballad. The diners turned back to their food and their conversation.
“Now, madam, you will change from that…skirt,” William took her by the arm. “We will return shortly.”
Thomas watched them go, followed by Kieran and Jemma, and Paris and Caladora. He sighed, realizing how much his life and their lives had changed. But it was a good change, he decided. A very good change. He moved over to join his brother and his nephews.
Caladora and Jemma returned to Jemma’s apartments while William and Jordan retired to theirs. The twins were asleep, vigilantly watched by Sylvie and the maids. William checked on the boys before joining his wife in the bedchamber.
She already had her plaid off, yards of the material laying on the floor and was stripping off the linen tunic she wore. William went and sat on the bed, eyeing the briefs that covered her slender hips.
“What are those things?” he motioned to them.
The tunic came off and she stood clad only in the briefs, running her hand over them. They hugged her hips and cut high in the leg, made from very soft linen.
“I wear these when we dance,” she shrugged. “So people wunna see my bottom.”
Fire raced through William’s loins. He found the peculiar things very enticing. He stood up and Jordan recognized the look of passion on his face. She smiled in anticipation.
His clothes came off and he was all over her, licking and suckling and kissing. The briefs stayed on until he could stand it no longer and ripped them off with his teeth.
Jordan laughed softly at his haste. He grinned in return, turning her over on her stomach and giving gentle attention to the backside of her. Not wanting to put his weight on the new babe, he would make love to her as he had been doing since he found out she was carrying. Lifting her hips up until she was supported by her knees, he gripped her firmly as he drove himself into her waiting body from behind.
Jordan loved it this way, the pressure and sensations were so different that it brought an instantaneous moan of pleasure from her lips. Within the first few hard thrusts she was climaxing, her hair askew all over the pillow as she hung her head, savoring the contractions until they faded away and left her feeling warm and relaxed and limp.
William’s hands left her hips and moved up to her full breasts, grabbing onto them like anchors and pulling her up against his body as he rocked into her. Even though she had achieved her pleasure, the pure animalistic mating ritual brought pants of sheer euphoria from both of them until he released himself into her forcefully, still clutching her to him as if to never let her go.
When they fell forward on the bed, he made sure to turn them both onto their sides and away from the baby. He continued to hold her gently, stroking her arms and running his fingers through her hair as he stared dreamily off into the dim room. Jordan dozed in his arms, purely content. It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep and her breathing became regular and steady.
He smiled, kissing her hair. God, how he loved her.
*
He was up before dawn, prowling Northwood like the days of old, forgetting it was now Paris who was in charge of the fortress. His friend met him in the inner bailey, the pink sky reflecting on his blond hair. William immediately caught his expression and deduced that something was wrong.
“What is it?” he demanded before any greeting.
Paris held up a scroll of parchment. “This. It came last night for you.”
William looked at it as if he could read through the paper and knew the message already. After a long, reluctant moment he took it.
“From Henry,” he murmured as he broke the seal. “I knew it. ’Twas only a matter of time before….” He broke off and began to read.
It was a short missive. Almost as soon as he opened it he was closing it.
“I am called back to London,” he said simply, emotionlessly.
Paris nodded, knowing as much. “When?”
William became brisk and business-like, not wishing to dwell on the unpleasantries he knew were bound to come. “I will be sending six men on to Questing today. I would like Roan and Michael to take them, and anyone else you can spare. I shall be taking Kieran and Deinwald with me.”
“Aye, I can spare someone; me,” Paris said curtly. “I shall get your fortress up and running while you are in London.”
William nodded. “I would appreciate it,” he said, his gaze lingering on Paris for a moment. “Paris, we’ve never discussed this, but what do you plan to do when I take possession of Questing? Will you stay here at Northwood or go with me?”
Paris met his gaze, pausing but a moment. “I have given it a great deal of thought, William, have no doubt,” he said slowly. “You are my closest friend and my greatest source of inspiration. But you do not need me. Adam, however, does. He is young and inexperienced, and he needs a firm, wise hand to guide him. He has come to depend on me a great deal and I feel that it would be unfair to leave him, considering the majority of the knights, if given the choice, will go with you. In my heart, I feel that I must stay here.”
William looked at him, his heart saddened but understanding completely. “Then I will miss you, my friend,” he said after a moment; his throat tight. “And you may do me another favor while I am away. If Adam has no objections, then approach the knights with the choice of where they wish to serve. Those who choose to serve at Questing may go there and wait for me to return from London.”
“I know of only two knights who will stay here at Northwood,” Paris said. “Ranulf, although he lives to serve you, feels much as I do. Adam needs Ranulf to handle the men-at-arms and you already have Deinwald for that duty. And Corin and Adam are the best of friends; they are both young. You see, William, we knew this day would come and each man has already made up his mind. When you return to Questing, you will find Michael, Marc, and Roan waiting for you. Corin, Ranulf, and I will remain here.”
The more William thought about it, the more he wanted Paris with him. They had been together for so long it was as if he was having an arm amputated. Yet he would have felt the same way if Kieran had decided to stay. He was so fortunate in that he had two right-hand men he could trust.
“If I thought begging you would change your mind, I would do it,” he said softly, clapping Paris on the shoulder. “It will not be the same without you.”
Paris smiled uncomfortably. “Stop it, William, or you shall have me bawling like a woman. You know you will never face a battle without me, I swear it.”
“Nor will you,” William replied, glancing at the parchment in his hand. He took a deep breath. “I ha
d better go inform my wife of our future plans. Lord knows, she will not be happy to hear this.”
He left Paris with a friendly smile and a warm handshake. Much to William’s surprise, his wife was quite calm about the whole thing. Almost instantaneously she whipped out her traveling satchel and began to pack. He watched her, knowing how her heart must be breaking to be separated so soon from her family, but she was reacting how she thought he would want her to react; there was nothing she could do about it, therefore, she must deal with it.
“Jordan,” he said softly as she stuffed garments into the bag. “Love, look at me.”
She stopped abruptly and looked at him, her face artificially void of emotion. “What?”
He smiled sadly and pulled her to his massive chest, burying his face in the top of her head. She held onto him, drawing strength from him.
“I am sorry,” he said.
“For what?” she asked. “For being so magnificent and skilled that Henry would demand that ye champion him? ’Tis nothing to be sorry for, English; ’tis an honor to serve yer king.”
“Well-rehearsed, wife,” he said. “What I meant is that I am sorry you must leave your father and family. Unless, of course, you would rather stay. I would not fault you.”
She looked up at him sharply. “Never,” she said emphatically. “My place is with ye, wherever ye go. And I would not leave ye alone in London with all of those court wenches hot for yer body.”
He grinned. “God help them now that you are in full vigor. Mayhap I should seek out Miranda and Amanda and Camanda, or whatever the hell their names are, and tell them to run for their lives.”
She fought off a grin. “Ye’d better not get anywhere near them,” she ordered, then looked thoughtful. “I think that I shall bring my dirk with me to London this time.”
He laughed softly and kissed her forehead before releasing her. “I will leave you to pack, then. I have got one thousand troops to divide and assemble.”
“I shall pack for ye,” she told him already back to the task.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 124
