The Wolfe (33 page)

“Because you had enough on your mind
without worrying about step-children,” he said. He put his finger under her
chin and lifted her to look at him. “I know you are made of much better things
than they are, Jordan. Do not lower yourself to their level just to feel a
small amount of satisfaction. I think the earl would like a wife with more
dignity than that.”

He was so right. Her anger fled and
her heart began to thump in her chest as their gazes locked. She was so close
she could smell him, a clean smell of leather and lemons, more than likely from
the soap he had used when cleaning up for dinner. Without even thinking she
reached up to touch his cleanly shaven face, feeling the beginnings of coarse
stubble beneath her fingertips. He was so, so beautiful.

“English,” she whispered. “Where is Jemma?”

“She is in the cellar,” he replied
hoarsely. “She has a cot and I made sure she was given a hot meal. You will see
her on the morrow.”

They fell silent again as her hands
continued to explore his face, his hair, finally the collar of his tunic. He
thought he had died and gone to heaven, so soft and sweet was her touch.

“Will ye flog her?” she asked
softly.

“Not if I have anything to say about
it, and the earl usually listens to me,” he said honestly.

“But if ye had to, would ye flog me
as well?” she persisted.

“No,” he said flatly. “I would not.”

“But the earl said….”

He cut her off. “The earl said that
you gave him little choice in the matter, meaning he was not about to punish
you so, therefore, he has second thoughts about punishing Jemma.”

She looked surprised. “He said that?”

“Aye.”

She lowered her gaze, noticing that
she was now playing with the ties on the front of his tunic. A strange heat
filled her arms and her belly, the same heat she had felt when he had kissed
her. It was disarmingly wonderful and she wondered what in the world she was
feeling. She’d never experienced those sensations before she had met William.

Mayhap it was the feeling of love
,
she thought. She felt as if to explode with her feelings as they built and
built, loosening her tongue and filling her with uncharacteristic boldness.

“English?” she said.

“Aye?”

She looked up at him then, her eyes
focusing on his soft lips and his beautiful eyes. “What would ye say if I told
ye I fancied myself in love with ye?”

His smiled faded and his eyes
widened. Jordan tried to gage his reaction but she was quickly becoming
frightened. She had the most horrible fear that he was going to leave and never
speak to her again. Sweet Jesu’, what had she been thinking to confess that?
Her boldness, her giddiness, was suddenly vanished and replaced by utter
humiliation. She felt his grip on her tighten.

“Do you realize what you are saying?”
he rasped.

“Aye,” she replied uncertainly. She
knew she must apologize for her rashness and tried to form the pretty words,
but instead she slid the opposite direction and found herself spilling out the
rest of her admission. “Aye, I do, and I am sorry that ye dunna feel the same
way. Ye have been so kind to me and I dunna want to make ye uncomfortable. I
shouldna had said anything. I dunna know what possessed me.”

He looked completely incredulous and
she was thoroughly confused. So far he hadn’t leaned one way or the other and
she didn’t know what degree of embarrassment to succumb to. She wished he would
let her go so she could throw herself out the window.

“Jordan… I am overwhelmed,” he said
simply.

She pulled back from him, averting
her gaze. “I can see that.”

He pulled her back to him earnestly.
“‘Tis not what those are thinking,” he hastened to reassure her. “‘Tis not a
question as to whether or not I love you, but you are to be the earl’s wife. I
will not deceive him by carrying on with you.”

Stung, she pulled away from him and
everything about the situation angered her. Damn him; she had not reached her
conclusion without his help and encouragement.

“Ye already told me I had yer heart,”
she said, agitated. “Ye have kissed me twice now, passionately I might add, and
now ye stand here holding me as if I were yer own. Was I misinterpreting ye,
English? I thought ye wanted me, which is why I….”

She broke off, confused and ashamed.
William watched her, verging on an emotional tirade, but forced himself to
calm.  He ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture; of course he
gave her that impression because it was the truth. He was being violently torn
in two by his loyalties to his liege and his feelings for her.

“I
do
want you,” he said
quietly. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life, but it
has been wrong of me to mislead you, Jordan. I guess I am just a selfish man at
heart. I suppose I simply wanted a taste of something that could never be, something
that will stay in my memory for always.”

She wasn’t going to let him get
away. She loved him and she wanted him, and even though she was compromising
his integrity, she meant to have him. Her only hope was that he would not end
up hating her and himself. He was already weakened by the sight of her; mayhap
she could weaken him more. She’d never wanted anything in her life as much as she
wanted him.

“I shall give ye more than a taste,”
she whispered.

She was facing him a mere few feet
away. He looked tired and defeated and sad. Reaching up, she untied the sash
that closed her robe in one swift movement, in one fragmented second, the robe
was in a soft pile at the base of her very naked, very beautiful body.

William could only stare in open
astonishment. She was absolutely perfect in every way. He knew his mouth was
hanging open and he quickly closed it, knowing he had to get the hell out of
the chamber or he would be a dead man. She was so willing and so naive, and it
was too much to ask of him to be strong for the both of them. He bolted up from
the arm of the chair and turned rapidly for the door.

“English?” Her voice reached him
like a caress.

He stopped but he did not turn
around. “What?”

“I dunna want ye to leave.”

“I must,” his voice was tight.

She walked over to him and embraced
him, her front to his taut back. Her hands trailed up and down his massive
arms.

“Nay, English,” she whispered. “Stay.
I dunna want to sleep alone tonight. Will ye stay and hold me?”

He shut his eyes tightly, fighting
off his desire to whip her into his arms and pound into her until he found his
release and then some.

“Nay,” he replied. “Do not ask me
again.”

Undaunted, she moved in front of
him, blocking the door. She knew she was being wanton and reckless, but she
felt no embarrassment. She pressed up against him, knowing he wanted her as
badly as she wanted him; she could see it in his eyes.

“Then dunna deny me and I wunna have
to ask again,” she replied softly.

He looked her in the eye. “If I stay
then I can guarantee that you would not go to the earl a virgin bride,” he
tried to sound stern. “Get out of my way.”

“I dunna want to give my virginity
to the earl; I want to give it to ye,” she said, then put her head against his
hard chest. “Say that ye want me, English.”

He snapped. Grasping her by the
arms, he moved over to the high-backed chair and sat heavily, drawing her onto
his lap like a child. He was desperately trying not to notice the silkiness of
her skin, her round firm breasts just inches below his watering mouth. God, he
was fighting a demon.

“Listen to me well,” he growled. “If
I take you now and you do not go to the marriage bed a virgin, then all eyes
will turn to me. But the blame I share will be nothing compared to the disgrace
you will bring on yourself or to your family.”

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled
onto her cheeks, melting his heart. Her tears cut through him faster than
anything else could.

“If it ‘tis blood on the sheets the earl
wants, then I can arrange it,” she said softly. “‘Tis the least of the worries.
But if ye dunna want me, then I can do nothing but apologize for trying to
seduce ye.”

He looked confused, softening his
harshness. “What do you mean you can
arrange
it?”

She sniffled. “‘Tis an old trick,”
she said. “When a lass is taken into a marriage and she has been compromised,
she wears a ring with a sharp edge on it. In the throes of passion, she slips
her hands together, nicks her finger, and squeezes the blood on the sheets before
the man even notices what she has done.”

He looked at her with amazement,
surprised that someone of her naiveté would know of something such as that. He
almost laughed.

“It is not that easy,” he said
seriously.

“Aye, it ‘tis,” she insisted. She
was quiet a moment. “English, I dunna want this to be a one-night event. When I
said ye had my heart, I meant for always. I dunna love the earl. I love
ye
.
But if yer loyalty to the man is so strong that ye wouldna commit adultery with
his wife, then I understand. It doesna make me happy, but ye are an honorable
man and I respect that greatly. Just…try not to hate me overmuch for being so
weak.”

He was relenting, inch by inch, as
much as he tried to fight it. “God, I could never hate you.”

“But ye dunna love me more than yer earl,”
she countered softly, with a touch of bitterness.

He sighed, torn. “I know it is difficult
for you to understand, love,” he said. “The earl has been the only father I
have ever known. He has been kind to me and I would not betray him.”

“How would ye be betraying him if no
one knew about it but us?” she lifted her head. “Do ye think I relish being
labeled an adulteress? Of course I dunna, but I am willing to risk it because I
love ye.”

He stroked her cheek. “Then you are
braver than I in that respect.”

She stood up and retrieved the robe,
tying it on tightly. Her stiff back was to him, afraid to look at him now for
the pain that was welling inside her. There was nothing more to say.

“Then I will bid ye a good night,
English,” she said, then turned to him, studying his face. “Will ye at least
still be my friend?”

“Until I die,” he said huskily.

He felt as if his entire life energy
has been drained from his body, leaving him a shell of a man. His mind was a
void. He rose slowly and went to the door.

Jordan could hear him moving. She
was trying desperately to stop the wracking sobs that were clutching at her, at
least until he left the room. She did not want him to see her anguish.

“English?” she called him one last
time.

“Aye, my lady?” he replied dully.

“Then this is the end of it, now,”
she told him, her throat tight. “No more touching, or kissing, or soft looks or
sweetly spoken words. ‘Twould not be right if there is to be no more between
us. I would not be a whore.” She felt a certain hypocrisy at that statement.

William straightened and she could
see the torment in his eyes, but he nodded after a moment. She acknowledged his
nod and squared her shoulders.

“Tell me one thing, Sir William de
Wolfe,” she said slowly. “Do ye indeed love me or was it simple lust?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I love you. I
always will.”

The door opened and he was gone.

The sobs came then and she collapsed
on the floor in a heap of white silk, hurting so badly she knew she would never
recover. She could only see, feel and think William and knew that her life without
him would be an empty, lonely existence. To never feel his touch again, to
never hear the tone of his voice when he was speaking sweetly to her was nearly
too much to bear. She hurt…
Sweet Jesu’,
she hurt.

Jordan could not have described her
torment in words. It was if something had taken her heart and squeezed it so
hard that nothing was left but a limp, lifeless shell. But she knew only she
was to blame. She had dared to take a chance and it had been thrown back in her
face, destroyed. Her pain was her own doing, her own cross to bear.

But she hurt for William, too, her
brave knight. He was righteous and chivalrous and she had no right at all to
endanger his standards. He was beyond her reach and had been all along. True
enough, he had kissed her and said honeyed words for her ears, but she had let
him. She could have stopped him, but she didn’t. Everything was her mistake.

As she sobbed rivers, the door
abruptly flew open, slamming back on the hinges so hard that it bounced off the
wall and closed by itself in a shudder of racket. Jordan heard the bolt go
through but didn’t look up; she didn’t care who it was and was prepared to
scream at them to go away when strong arms were lifting her off the floor.

Leather and soap.
She smelled
leather and soap.