The Wolfe (31 page)

“Good,” De Longley replied. “Then
allow me to introduce you to the rest of my family.” He turned in his seat and
indicated the man seated directly next to him. “This is my eldest son,
Alexander, Viscount Tarlinby.”

Alexander de Longley was a thin version
of his father, with protruding teeth and a receding hair line although he could
not have been more than four or five years older than Jordan. He gazed back
indifferently, bored even.

“My lord,” Jordan nodded her head.

He looked away, finding the activities
of the room more interesting than meeting his future step-mother.

The earl continued rapidly. “This
lovely creature sitting next to him is my daughter,  the Lady Analiese.”

Jordan was face to face with the
plain girl who had laughed. She was pale and blond and nondescript. “My lady,” she
said nicely.

The girl’s eyes narrowed as if she
had been uproariously challenged by the simple greeting. Jordan felt the open
hostility like a slap in the face.

“I hope our food is to your liking
here,” Analiese said thinly. “I heard that Scots eat nothing but human flesh,
so I fear than you may not appreciate the civility of our cuisine.”

Jordan saw a petty, vain, spoiled
child in front of her. She knew she could be as sweet as honey and never see
any results. Women such as Analiese understood bickering and quarreling to kindness,
and the fact that she hated Jordan simply because she was Scot was indicative
of that nature.

Jordan knew she should let it slide,
but she could not. She had to let Analiese know from the beginning just who she
toyed with.

“Yer witch’s cauldron has been
feeding ye false information, Lady Analiese. We Scots stopped eating human
flesh about the same time as the angles did.,” She smiled sweetly at her.

The earl coughed. Alexander’s head
snapped to Jordan in defense of his sister, but Analiese was rising to the
occasion.

“You little bitch,” she snarled. “How
dare you insult me.”

“Sit down,” her father commanded. “‘Twas
you who started the insults, daughter, and you will take heed what you call the
future countess or the next transgression against you will be my hand to your
backside.”

Analiese promptly sat, seething
hatred at Jordan. Jordan was the image of congeniality in return.

The earl tried not to let the
exchange dampen his presentation. “And this fine young lad is my youngest son,
Adam, newly return from fostering at Beverley Castle.”

Adam de Longley was a beautiful,
well-mannered boy. He was tall and lithely muscular with a crown of gorgeous
golden-red hair and big, droopy blue eyes. He stood and bowed gallantly to
Jordan, and she instantly liked him.

The earl was obviously very proud of
the boy. He simply beamed at him. “I have not seen my youngest since he was
eight, and here he is all grown before me,” he said. “He has completed his
knight training at Beverley but wished to come home to serve his father. His
knighting ceremony will be in a few days.”

Jordan smiled at the soon-to-be
knight. “Ye must be very proud of him, sire,” she said. “Who will officiate the
knighting ceremony?”

“Adam asked that William preside
over the service and induct him into the brotherhood,” the earl replied. “Quite
an honor for my captain.”

Jordan knew women were banned from
such ceremonies, but she wished she could watch as William initiated the boy.

“Indeed it is,” she glanced at
William. “But isna it traditional for the knight’s teacher to receive him into
the knighthood? Such as his instructor at Beverley?”

“Usually, my lady,” William answered
for the earl. “But Adam requested that I conduct the ceremony because of his
desire to serve Northwood, not Beverley. The captain of Beverley, being a
personal friend of mine, agreed.”

“You have knowledge of knighthood,
Lady Jordan?” It was Alexander, speaking in his high-pitched and effeminate
voice. “How is it that you have come to know the intricacies? Did, mayhap, a
knight teach you? Or did you hear him when he talked in his sleep?”

A deeply insulting remark that was
met with dead silence. Alexander settled back in his chair with a satisfied smirk,
not really expecting an answer. Analiese leaned over to him and whispered
something into his ear, causing them both to chuckle.

Jordan felt as if she wanted to
burst into hot, angry tears but she controlled herself. She would give the
bastard no indication of just how deeply he had hurt her. She did not see
William’s vein throbbing in his temple or the clench of his jaw, nor did she
see the flush in Paris’ neck. She saw only the trencher and the food that
cooled in it, trying desperately to prepare an answer that did not reveal her
feelings.

“How would ye know what knights say
in their sleep?” God help them all, it was Jemma. She was standing up so as to
better see who she was about to insult. “Unless, of course, ye speak from
personal experience. Since ye arna a knight yerself, can I assume ye’re married
to one?”

Jordan swore she heard a collective
groan go up between William and Paris. She snapped her head in Jemma’s
direction to shoot her a quelling look and was preparing a fast apology even as
Alexander sat bolt-upright in his chair.

“Who is this… this
creature
?”
he demanded in outrage.

The earl could see the explosion
coming and put his arms out as if to embrace everyone at the table to calm
them. Analiese shot out of her chair and began screeching insults in Jemma’s
direction, though Jordan did not hear one word she said. She was quickly
slipping into misery with the fact that their first meal together was not going
at all well.

“Everyone, sit, please,” the earl
ordered evenly. “Let us sit and conduct this evening civilly.”

“Sire, this is my cousin and
lady-in-waiting, Jemma Scott,” Jordan said rapidly. “She has had a busy day of
it and is feeling quite fatigued, hence her unruly tongue. I will excuse her
now to prepare my chamber, if it pleases ye.”

“She will not leave until I have
thrashed her within an inch of her worthless life.” Analiese exclaimed loudly.

“Ha.” Jemma was livid. “Ye pasty-faced
English wench, I’d like to see ye try and lay a hand on me.”

Control was slipping away rapidly.
Jordan did not know what to do with her cousin and future step-daughter raging
out of control. If she thought slapping them both would restore calm, then she
would have gladly done so. But as she was struggling for a solution, she
remembered who sat at her right.

“William…?” she turned pleadingly
to him, putting her hand on his arm. “Please…?”

He was between great anger and great
amusement, waiting with growing impatience for the earl to demand him into
action. He heard her call his name, saw the look in her eyes, and decided to
wait no longer. As he was rising, the earl jabbed a finger at him.

“William, take that woman to the
cellar until she can learn manners. I will not have her publicly insulting my
flesh,” he turned his attention to his elder son and daughter. “If you two
cannot be civilized to Lady Jordan, then you will take all meals in your room
until you can learn how to behave. I will hear no more of this. Is that
understood?”

Alexander barely nodded. Analiese
put her hands on her slim hips.

“Is that all you are going to do to
her?” she demanded. “I want her flogged.”

Jordan gasped and she knew she had
gone pale. After what she had seen this afternoon she knew the earl to be a
harshly decisive man. Terror filled her.

“Sire,” she said as calmly as she
could. “Lady Jemma is not the disrespectful sort. She is simply overwrought
with fatigue and I beg my lord to be merciful with her. I would consider it a
great, great favor.”

The earl looked at her, passing a
glance at Jemma as William firmly escorted her from the room. He found himself
utterly entranced by the most beautiful face, he was sure, in all of England.

“My lady,” he said after a moment. “I
cannot allow such an infraction to go unpunished. You will forgive me if I
cannot grant your request.”

Jordan sat back heavily in her chair
when he turned away, struggling to maintain her composure. She was shocked and
angered by the seeming coldness of the earl and absolutely terrified for Jemma.

“My lord,” she said lowly but firmly
enough to make him turn to her. “I insulted your daughter, too. Whatever
punishment ye choose for Jemma, ye must administer it to me as well. She was
only defending me.”

“Are you responsible for her actions
as well?” he asked, not unkindly.

“Aye,” she nodded with a faint,
ironic smile. “I am. I brought her here.”

He regarded her. “She is not of your
station, Lady Jordan, and whereas I may oversight your remarks, I cannot
oversight hers.”

Jordan chin went up. “‘Twere ye to
punish her, ye must punish me also, sire. We are blood cousins and, therefore,
indeed of the same station. I am not the countess - yet.”

The earl did not look pleased. He
tried to match her gaze but could not, instead, looking off into the room.

“You leave me with little choice in
the matter,” he replied, then gestured to her trencher. “Please eat. This meal has
been prepared especially for you.”

She obeyed and tried not to vomit as
the food slid into her trembling stomach. Dinner progressed quietly from that
point on. Analiese and Alexander talked quietly between themselves, the only
conversation. Four minstrels in the corner filled the hall with soft music and the
smell of smoke from the massive hearth was sharp.

Jordan, with no one to talk to, ate
quietly and glanced about the room with interest. She was disturbed to see that
Kieran, sitting several feet away, was dark and brooding. She wished she could
speak to him but dare not try.

“Is the beef to your liking?” Paris
asked.

She turned to look at him, having
completely forgotten he was a chair away. He smiled warmly at her. She smiled
back.

“Aye,” she replied. “‘Tis most
tender.”

“‘Tis our very own beef, raised by
the earl himself.”

Someone sat between them. She looked
up to see William reseating himself and he reached out to take his wine cup.

She stared at him, watching every
move he made but not saying a word. She waited for him to tell her about Jemma
until she was near exploding with anxiety. He had yet to even look at her.

“Finish your dinner, my lady,” he
told her, still averting his eyes.

She did not reply. Instead, she sat
back in the chair and looked away from him. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

When dinner was over, the minstrels
sang several ballads for the group. They were Scot musicians and Jordan was
suddenly very homesick again. When they sang a sweet Scot lullaby, she
dissolved in quiet tears. Under the table, she felt William squeeze her knee
gently and it nearly did her in.

He had been so distant the entire
meal that she feared he’d had enough of her and her loud-mouth cousin, and the
acknowledgement was exactly what she needed. She wanted to look at him but was
afraid to.

The musicians, knowing she was Scot,
suddenly appeared before her. The leader, a ruddy man with thick legs, beckoned
eagerly to her.

“Aye, wha’ a bonnie lass we hae here!”
he exclaimed. “Can ye sing, lass?”

Jordan’s face went red. “Aye…a bit.”

The musician laughed. “Then can ye
dance?”

She lowered her head, looking at him
from beneath her lashes. “Like the devil, but not in front of the whole bloody
room.”

That drew a laugh from the earl and
Adam, as well as the earl’s steward sitting at the far side of the table.

“Come on, then,” the musician would
not be discouraged. “We’ll get ye the swords, lass. ‘Tis been a long time since
we hae seen a lass as pretty as ye.”

Jordan was mortified at their
request. But the earl liked it.

“Dance for me, my lady,” he said. “I
command it.”

“Truly, sire, I canna in this dress,”
she begged off, terrified. “‘Tis far too long and I would break my neck.”

“But ye can sing?” the musician
pushed.

She would have liked to have slugged
the man for his persistence and could not ward off the scowl on her face.

“She can sing,” William was casually
observing his cup. “I have heard her.”

She looked at William, wondering
when he had heard her sing. Before the earl could command her to do it,
Analiese rose demurely from her chair.

“I can sing, Father,” she announced mildly.
“I shall do it.”

She went to the musicians and told
them what to play. Her voice was thin and high-pitched and occasionally she
would hit a sour note but, undaunted, Analiese sang four songs for the crowd
that was growing quite bored.

Jordan sat attentively, trying to
make up for the bad start they’d had earlier. When Analiese had finished, she
applauded loudly.