William sighed again and leaned up against the door, listening to his wife destroy their bedchamber. He reasoned that as long as he could hear her moving about, she hadn’t hurt herself. So he waited with an amused look on his face, and listened.
Kieran, with Jemma by the arm, entered the apartments a few minutes later. William’s eye widened at the sight of his wife’s cousin; her dress was torn, her lip cut, and she had a lovely bruise underneath her left eye.
“Good God, Jemma!” William exclaimed. “What in the hell happened to you?”
Jemma was still full of venom. “Ye should see them.”
Kieran looked embarrassed and proud at the same time, if that was possible. He nodded at William to back up his wife’s statement. “My God, it looked like a battle.”
Jemma froze when she heard Jordan’s crying. “What’s wrong with her?” she demanded. “Why is she crying?”
William, leaning against the doorjamb, shrugged lazily. “She is having a tantrum. I am simply waiting until it subsides.”
“Is she hurt?” Jemma was very concerned, upset with William’s nonchalant attitude.
“Nay, not a scratch on her.” He held out his left hand clutching a big rat’s nest of hair. “But she left one of the women bald on one side.”
Jemma and Kieran stared open-mouthed at the prize. “Good for her!” Jemma crowed. “She’s a tough one when she sets her mind to it.”
Kieran chuckled, getting a better look at the hair in William’s hand. Then he chuckled again. “She did that?” he asked.
William nodded, noting the disbelief in Kieran’s question. “Aye, she did. And she was in the process of cracking a few ribs when I stopped her,” he tilted his head in Jemma’s direction. “How far did she get before you stopped her?”
Kieran shot his wife a reproachful glance and Jemma deliberately looked away from him. “She had punched one of them in the teeth by the time I caught up to them and was laying into the other one’s face when I pulled her off,” he said. “The one she slugged in the teeth, what is her name? Charlotte? Lost three teeth at least. There was blood all over the damn place.”
William, too, shot Jemma a reproving glance. “Kieran, I think we married a couple of ruffians.”
“Well, ’tis yer fault.” Jemma shot back. “Ye shouldna have encouraged them.”
“Encouraged them?” William repeated with disbelief. “We did nothing of the kind.”
“Ye were talking to them,” she fired back. “Ye should have ignored them and walked away. They are not worthy of yer attention, either one of ye.”
William and Kieran passed glances at one another; there was no use arguing. Then William realized that things had gotten very quiet inside his bedchamber. He put his ear against the door and listened, but heard nothing.
“Jordan?” he called softly. Hearing no reply, he rattled the latch again. “Jordan? Answer me.”
Nothing. His initial puzzlement began to turn to creeping apprehension. What if she had hurt herself and lay bleeding, unconscious, on the floor at that very second? She had broken quite a few things and he knew sharp edges were everywhere.
He shook the door harder. “Jordan, dammit, answer me or I shall break this door down.”
His wife did not reply. Seized with a great fear that she had somehow hurt herself, however unintentional, he took a few steps back. Bracing himself, he struck out a heavy booted foot and kicked the door at the stress point where the wooden bolt would have been. The door cracked and popped, but didn’t give.
“Kieran, help me,” he motioned for his second.
Kieran’s strength was incredible. With their combined shoulders, they charged at the door again only to hear it crack once more but still remain closed. Grunting with effort, they did it two more times before the bolt on the other side finally snapped and the door went flying open.
The two of them went stumbling into the room with their momentum as the door opened, stepping on glass and broken porcelain. William was gravely concerned for his wife and he immediately spied her on the bed, sprawled on her stomach.
He rushed over to her in a panic only to discover that amidst the screaming and yelling and crying, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
Kieran was hovering over his shoulder as Jemma ran into the room.
“She’s asleep,” William said, relief flooding his veins.
“She slept through that?” Kieran asked in disbelief.
William straightened up and ran his hand through his thick hair. “Hell, man, I have seen her sleep through worse,” he said, moving back around the bed and looking at the mess. “Damn, she did a job on this room.”
“William, she’s all wet,” Jemma pointed out. “She will catch a cold.
He turned to look at his wife again, “Aye, I shall get her out of that surcoat. It’s ruined, anyway.”
“Why is she all wet?” Jemma wanted to know as Kieran grabbed her hand and gently led her out through the minefield of broken glass.
William didn’t answer her. Kieran took Jemma into their bedchamber and closed the door, leaving a bit of privacy for William and Jordan.
William went back over to his wife; he knew what would wake her. He sat down on the bed next to her and instantly she stirred. Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him with a sort of glazed look. He smiled gently.
“You have got to get out of that wet dress,” he said softly.
She blinked and sat up and he could see she was still upset. Silently, she reached around her back and undid her stays, batting his hands away when he attempted to help her. All by herself she moved off the bed and let the dress fall around her ankles, stripping off her soaked undergarments as well until she stood stark naked. She kicked the dress against the wall and moved to the big wardrobe.
“I would not do that if I were you,” William warned, referring to the broken glass on the floor.
She ignored him and retrieved a pretty purple satin robe, wrapping it about her before moving back toward the bed. Surely, on her very last step she came down on a piece of glass and let out a yelp of pain.
William stood up and put her gently on the bed. “Let me see,” he held her foot up in front of his face as she lay back on the bed, still eyeing him with a pout.
“Jordan, quit looking at me like that,” he said, plucking out the piece of glass and then meeting her stare. “I am sorry you are upset, love, but I did not do anything intentionally. You know me better than that.”
She turned away from him. “Aye, I do,” she said in a small voice. Then she looked at him again. “But I also know that I am fat and ugly, and those women are more desirable than I am.”
He snatched her wrists and pulled her up to sit so fast that she was dizzy with the suddenness of the movement. Instantly, he was on his knees in front of her, pushed between her legs and glaring at her with an expression that scared her to death.
“Listen to me well, madam” his voice was low. “There is no one on this earth more desirable than you, and especially not to me. You are neither fat, nor have you ever been even remotely ugly, and I will not listen to you belittle yourself in that manner. I cannot count the times I have told you how beautiful you are or how much I love you and I have no idea where your insecurity is born. But you will cease with it this instant. I have eyes for none other but you, as you well know.”
She stared back at him, wide-eyed, and swallowed hard. “Ye’re hurting my wrists, English,” she whispered.
He slackened his grip but continued to hold onto her, staring hard at her as if to forcibly make her understand his statement. He was sorry he had been so harsh with her, but her ridiculous words infuriated him.
He sighed after a moment, his gaze softening. “Do I have six more months of this paranoia to look forward to?”
Relieved he wasn’t truly angry, she nodded with a smile. “I am afraid so. I nearly drove Paris daft with it.”
He rolled his eye with comical dread, kissing her hands lovingly before releasi
ng her wrists. “This room is destroyed quite thoroughly.”
She sighed wearily and tucked her legs underneath her body, watching her husband pick his way among the mess, righting chairs as he went.
“I will have a lot of cleaning to do tonight,” she agreed, watching his broad back. “I am sorry, English. Sometimes I think I am possessed.”
He smiled, the dimples in his cheeks like deep grooves. “Do not worry about it, love. We are not staying.”
“What do ye mean?” she perked up.
He turned and smiled broadly at her. “My meeting with Henry went well,” he said with satisfaction. “So well, in fact that we leave for Questing on the morrow.”
Her mouth popped open. “What…what do ye mean?”
“You did not give me a chance to tell you, what with all of this fighting and ranting that you have been doing,” he said. “Our king, in his ultimate wisdom, has decided to release me from my obligation as king’s champion and has bade us return to Questing to resume my new post as Warden of the North Border.”
Jordan was stunned. “But Henry was so intent on keeping ye as his champion. What in the world changed his mind?”
William shrugged. “He knew I wasn’t happy here in London,” he said quietly. “Although I did what was asked of me and did it perfectly, Henry knew that my heart was not in it. He was being selfish, of course, as a monarch is allowed to be because he wanted The Wolf as his champion. Even to Henry I bring some sort of prestige. But even he realizes that I served him better in the north.”
“But who will champion him now?” she asked, concerned that if the king didn’t have another champion right away he would change his mind and demand that William stay.
“Captain Steven Brockenhurst,” he told her. “It seems the king was most impressed with his performance in the north against the clans, and with de Troiu gone the opportunity presented itself. I could not be more pleased.”
Jordan rose to her knees on the bed, her expression reflecting the fact that she was coming to understand they were leaving London for good. “Then we are truly leaving this place for home? Our home?”
He loved the look of happiness in her eyes. “Aye, love,” he murmured. “We are going home.”
She began to giggle with joy and he went to her, taking her into his arms and swinging her around gaily. She gasped and laughed, ordering him to stop manhandling her but loving it just the same. He kissed her loudly on the cheek.
“Oh, English, I can hardly believe it,” she said as she gazed at him deeply, relishing the love and contentment she felt for him. “ ’Tis almost too good to believe with everything that has happened to us. To actually live as man and wife, in our own keep… it is a dream.”
He wiggled his brows. “And not just any keep, love, it’s Castle Questing. Northwood should be so mighty.”
She shook her head in awe. “ ’Tis hard to imagine a fortress mightier than Northwood. When do we leave?”
He laughed at her eager question. “Is tomorrow morning too late?”
“Nay!” she cried. “Jemma and I will pack this night.” Suddenly, her face fell and she looked rather fearfully at him. “Kieran and Jemma will live with us, will they not?”
He put her back on the bed so she would not step on the broken glass. “Aye, Kieran and Jemma, and Michael, Marc, Roan and Deinwald.”
She immediately looked suspicious. “What about Paris? Why not Paris?”
The sadness in his face and voice was evident. “He chooses to stay at Northwood and help Adam run the place. As much as he wants to come with us, he knows he is needed more at Northwood. Believe me, Jordan, ’twas a most difficult decision for him to make and for me to accept. He is my best friend in the world, outside of you.”
She blinked, her eyes stinging with tears. “I will miss him.”
He smiled sadly. “So will I, but I understand his reasons. Yet the majority of my knights, save Paris, Ranulf and Corin, will be with us at Questing. And for that, I am satisfied.”
She gave a brief nod. “Then I am, too. Oh, English, I am excited!”
He gave into her excitement, her joy at moving to their new home. “Me, too.”
They grinned at each other like two children with a giddy secret.
“And Aloria will come with us, too.” She was thinking aloud. “And my Da, and Uncle Matthew and Ian and Cord, and Cala….” Her face suddenly froze. “Callie! We will be taking her from Paris.”
William didn’t look overly concerned. “She cannot stay at Northwood unchaperoned,” he said. “Besides, ’twill give Paris an excuse to visit us every week if Caladora lives at Questing.”
Jordan nodded, liking that idea. He smiled at her now that she seemed satisfied knowing her immediate future. Yet, he still had one more surprise for her.
“Now, change into some clean clothes,” he swept away a clean spot in the floor for her to stand. “We have an appointment for supper.”
“Appointment? Where?” she asked.
William smiled happily. “My brother, Robert, is here at Windsor and is dying to meet you.”
“Yer brother, the earl?” she gasped. “Well, why dunna ye say so sooner? I must bathe and wash my hair and I…!”
He laughed, leaving her to fret and worry. As he passed through the antechamber, he heard his wife yelling for Jemma as well as any battle commander and paused for a moment at the door leading from the apartments.
“I shall be back in an hour,” he called to her.
“Two!” she screamed back.
He laughed again and quit the room.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Two and a half hours later, Jordan and William stood outside of his brother’s apartments at Windsor. Jordan looked as beautiful as he had ever seen her in a red satin surcoat that revealed plenty of her full breasts. Her freshly washed hair was free and flowing, smelling like an entire field of lavender and William was having a difficult time concentrating on anything other than her.
“English, what if he hates me?” she whispered as her husband rapped on the door.
He gave her a scowl, letting her know just what he thought of that statement, just as the door flew open. Jordan nearly jumped from her skin.
Immediately there was a tall, well-dressed man standing in the archway smiling happily at her, and she knew that it was William’s brother. He was an older version of her husband, with the same golden eyes, with his hair with a bit of gray, but there was no mistaking the resemblance. He tore his eyes away from Jordan long enough to look at William.
“This is her?” he asked incredulously. “My God, William, no wonder you wanted to retreat to Questing with your wife. How in the hell did you manage to marry such an exquisite creature.”
Jordan was blushing madly. William gave his brother an irritated smirk and put his arm around his wife, guiding her into the room.
“Not much of a greeting, even for you,” he said, then looked at Jordan. “Love, I am sure you have guessed by now who this is. Robert, meet my wife, Lady Jordan Scott de Wolfe.”
Robert Richard Christopher de Wolfe, the Earl of Wolverhampton, put his arms around Jordan when she went to curtsy.
“Don’t you dare act formally in my presence,” he ordered. “I would display my affection for the woman that tamed my youngest brother.”
She returned his pleasant hug. Then she noticed a woman coming up behind him, a very pretty woman, with light brown hair. The woman’s blue eyes studied her nicely enough.
“Robert?” the woman put her hand on his arm. “Tell me that this is Jordan.”
Robert nodded. “I could scarce believe it when I opened the door,” he said. “My little brother has done unbelievably well for himself, wouldn’0t you say? Lady Jordan, this is my wife, Lady Giselle.”
Giselle took Jordan’s hand in her soft one. “Lady Jordan, what a pleasure it is. I see that everything William has told us is true.”
“Thank ye, my lady,” she said. “I am so glad to meet ye.”
Giselle looked at William. “She’s adorable.” she exclaimed with a wrinkle of her nose. “And her accent is charming.”
William nodded gallantly. “I thank you, both of you, for everything you say is true,” he said, helping his wife remove her cloak. “She is all that and more.”
A serving wench took her cloak and Giselle clutched her arm, leading her over to the warm conversation area near the hearth. She felt very comfortable, but she still glanced over her shoulder to make sure her husband was near her. He and Robert were close behind, with William taking a place by the chair his wife was settled in. Giselle sat opposite her.
“We were so surprised to hear that William had finally wed,” Giselle said. “And doubly surprised it was a Scot lass that had caught him. We had no idea what to expect.”
Robert cleared his throat and Giselle suddenly realized what she must have sounded like. She was a sweet woman, but a little dense. “I simply meant that William has been fighting Scots most of his life,” she put in quickly. “We never expected him to marry one.”
“Or marry at all, for that matter.” Robert’s brown eyes grazed his brother’s form. “ ’Twas hard to believe the mighty Wolf was snared. Jonathan still refuses to believe it.”
“Well, it is true,” William said, his gaze lingering lovingly on his wife. “Jonathan is simply jealous that I married before he did.”
“Jonathan is yer other brother?” Jordan asked him softly.
“Aye,” Robert answered for her husband. “He’s dark, like we are, but swarthier.”
“And shorter,” William snorted.
Robert nodded with a smirk. “But he’s a terror with a sword. He taught William everything he knows.”
William looked doubtfully at his brother. “Now, I would not go so far as to say that. I learned a bit on my own.”
“Of course you did,” Robert said with a wink, “ ’else you would not have become The Wolf of the border. Even Jonathan isn’t that good. Lord, we’re proud of our baby brother.”
Jordan grinned at William’s discomfort. “So am I,” she said.
“What attracted you to my brother, Jordan?” Robert broke into the warm moment between them.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 126
