The Wolfe (58 page)

William was puzzled but did not show
it. “I am coming,” when the man did a quick bow and ducked away, William turned
in Paris’ direction and motioned to the man. When Paris joined him, the two of
them marched purposefully from the room.

***      

The two Scots sat in a guard room in
the gatehouse, being allowed entrance only to be herded into the room like criminals.
They sat and waited, speaking alternately in English and Gaelic, angry at their
treatment. When William and Paris entered the room, there was tangible
hostility.

William approached cautiously while
Paris hung back by the door. He eyed the two men.

“State your business,” he said
coldly.

The first man, a dark-haired young
lad, returned the cold stare. “First ye will do me the courtesy of tell me with
whom I am speaking.”

As William’s eyes became accustomed
to the dimness of the room, he realized the men were wearing Scott tartan. He
was a little more at ease than he had been but a moment before, but he was more
curious than ever.

“I am Captain de Wolfe,” he replied.
“Who are you?”

The young man’s eyes widened slightly
when he discovered who he was talking to, but he held himself well. “My name is
Cord Scott, nephew of Laird Scott. He has sent me here with a missive for the Earl
of Teviot.”

William knew better than to ask for
the message or to demand to see it. He would simply take the man on his word.
With a faint nod he indicated the door.

“Come with me,” he said, then jabbed
a finger at the other man when he rose to follow. “He stays.”

Cord complied, waving the other man
down. “That ‘tis just my brother, Ian,” he said as if that made any difference.

William didn’t answer. Leaving Paris
with the other Scot, he took Cord into the fortress, leading him to the earl’s
solar.

Sending a guard to retrieve the earl,
he leaned back against the wall to study the individual more closely from where
the man could not see him. They waited in complete silence and William was
mildly impressed to see that Cord appeared neither fidgety or nervous, even
though he knew William was staring down his back.

The closer he scrutinized, the more
familiar fine dark features looked to him. His cold stare washed with a
thoughtful expression.

“Is Jemma your sister?” he asked.

Cord jerked his head around to look
at him. “What do ye know of Jemma?”

William could see a great deal of
venomous suspicion and wondered why. “Then she is related to you?”

Cord shot to his feet. “Tell me what
ye know of Jemma, ye bastard, or I shall take off yer hide.”

William wasn’t offended. He could
see from the temper that the man was her brother. It occurred to him that when Jemma
had been discovered following them, she was in disguise and knowing her as he had
come to, probably did not think to tell anyone her plans. For all her family
knew, she had been kidnapped, and most likely by the same English army that had
taken Jordan. He was cognizant of the man’s distrust for him.

“I know that she is here, at
Northwood, whether or not we want her,” William said evenly. “See here, lad, we
did not kidnap her. She followed us, in her own words, so she could serve her cousin.
But what she has done and what her intentions were are two different things
entirely.”

Cord drew a long breath. “She is
here? With Jordan?”

“Aye,” William replied.

He stared at William a moment before
regaining his seat. He sat as if contemplating the explanation given before
finally releasing a pent-up chuckle. “The little magpie,” he muttered. “Always
had a brain duller than a hammer.”

William nodded. “I see we are
speaking of the same woman.”

Cord looked up at him then chuckled
again. “I never did believe she was kidnapped. Ye English were never actually
close enough to the fortress to get in. I figured she had to of slipped out or
some other sort of nonsense. She was terrified of Jordan leaving her, ye know.
Can’t live without the woman. I take it she is well, then?”

“She is,” William answered.

Cord nodded. “And making a bloody
nuisance of herself, I see?”

William grinned wryly. “We are used
to her now.”

Cord nodded again. “Me mam will be
glad to hear that her only daughter isna dead, left by the English hounds after
they had their fill of her.”

“I assure you, she is quite safe,”
William told him.

As he pondered Jemma’s brother,
William thought of the missive the man carried and wondered if after it was
read, if such a thing as safety would still be possible. True, he was planning
to take Jordan with him regardless, but Jemma would still remain at Northwood
and at the mercy of the earl. Unless, of course, Kieran and Jemma accompanied
them to France. Several thoughts raced through his head, but he said nothing.

The earl came into the solar, eyeing
the Scot thoroughly when he stood. “What is this all about?”

“Are ye Lord de Longley?” Cord
asked, not a waver in his voice.

“I am,” the earl replied shortly. He
was angry at being taken away from Adam’s feast and wished to return
immediately. “What is it you have for me, lad, and be quick about it.”

Cord reached beneath the folds of
his tartan William pushed himself up the wall in a purely defensive maneuver,
concerned for the earl’s safety in case the Scot was harboring a dirk. But what
Cord drew forth was a rolled length of vellum.

“A message from Laird Scott, sire,”
Cord said. “I am to await a reply.”

With a purse of his lips, the earl
snatched the vellum away and broke the seal. His eyes began to read hastily
until he had reached halfway down the page. Then, he visibly slowed and seemed
to be re-reading certain passages.

William was unable to gage the earl’s
reaction and wildly wondered if Laird Scott was demanding his daughter back. He
fought the urge to read the parchment over the earl’s shoulder. After several minutes,
the earl glanced up at Cord, then turned to William.

“Leave us,” he told his captain.

William complied even though he was anxious
to know what was going on, but knowing he would find out soon enough.  He took
up position in the corridor outside of the room and waited.  Paris joined him
at some point and the two of them stood in silence.

It wasn’t until nearly an hour later
that the earl summoned William and Paris into the solar. Cord was gone, taken
by a couple of soldiers back to the gatehouse where he would be housed until a
reply was drafted.

Impassively, William and Paris stood
before the earl where the man sat behind his massive oak desk. He was sitting
in his over-stuffed chair, facing the windows with a distant look to his eye.
William wondered if the man even realized they were standing there.

But the earl eventually moved,
reaching out and picking up the missive from the Scot laird. He held it up to
William, still not looking at him.

“Read this,” he commanded quietly.

They did. Twice. The two of them
looked at each other in disbelief before setting the parchment down on the
desk. The air was warm and still, only the sounds of faint activity in the
bailey permeating the windows now and again. The sounds were faint and
deafening at the same time.

“What do you think, William?” the earl
finally asked.

William was much calmer than he had
expected himself to be. “It has got to be the most ambitious, insane load of
drivel that I have ever heard,” he said. “How can those others clans believe
that they can actually control the border? Not only that, but they seem to
believe they can take on the whole of northern England to accomplish it. Laird
Scott is right; he is caught in the middle of something big. If he breaks our
treaty, he will be at war with us, and if he does not, his former allies will
destroy him.”

“The bottom line is simple, my lord,”
Paris put in. “Either support the Scotts when they defy their allies, or return
Lady Jordan.”

The earl scratched his head and
turned to face them. “I do not like ultimatums. I fear that I will have to
inform the king of this and he will not be pleased.”

“What do you have in mind to do, my
lord?” William asked him.

“I am not sure yet,” he replied. “Of
course, I want to support the clan Scott, but if we did, then it would mean war
against every other border clan. I do not know if I can risk the security of
Northwood in such a fashion.”

“It means war regardless,” William
interjected. “Whether or not we support clan Scott, we will be at war with the
border clans. The only difference will be whether we are fighting with clan
Scott or against them.”

“Agreed,” Paris said. “The border
clans are apparently intent on destroying every significant fortress on the
English border one way or the other. I think what we should be concerned with
now is notifying all of the warlords along the boundary and formulating a plan
of action.”

“In good time, Paris,” the earl
assured him. “As you know, the majority of them are in my dining hall at this
moment and I expect to inform them of this missive before they leave. But at
the moment, I am more concerned about clan Scott’s request.”

“What of the wedding?” Paris asked
him. “The king is expected on the morrow.”

“There will be no wedding, at least,
not in the literal sense,” the earl stated casually.

William and Paris stared at the man.
He was looking at the desk absently, but slowly, his head came up and he
focused directly on William.

“Will there, lad?” he asked softly.

William forced himself to take a
slow, deep breath. Every muscle in his body was rigid with apprehension at the
question.  After what happened this morning, he had expected some manner of
confrontation. He sensed that it was coming now. He could not, would not lie,
but he would not deny a direct question.

“What do you mean?” he asked evenly.

To his shock, the earl actually
smiled weakly. He sat forward in his chair and folded his hands.

 “I mean, that there will be a
wedding, but I will not be the groom.” His voice softened, as did his
expression. “The game is over, William.”

William was so geared up for an all-out
fight that his limbs suddenly went weak with confusion. “What game?” he asked.

De Longley passed a glance at Paris.
“Get out of here. This does not concern you.”

Paris fled, leaving William
bewildered and off-balance. He continued to stare into de Longley’s small brown
eyes, hoping to regain his composure before the next barrage.

“My lord….” he started hoarsely.

“Nay, William, allow me to finish,”
the earl waved at him. “You see, I was a fool. I should have realized from the
very first day that you were in love with her, but I…I simply overlooked the
fact. The very night I informed you of the king’s directive in my bower, I
remember distinctly the look that came to your eyes when you spoke of your
angel of mercy, and you have that same look in your eyes every time you look at
her still. I should have listened to you when you spoke, William, not so much
in your words, but in your tone. But I am an ignorant old man. I’d forgotten
what it was like to be in love.”

William was reeling with disbelief.
He felt horribly guilty and wildly relieved at the same time.

“You assumed all of this?” he still
was not ready to admit anything until the earl asked it plainly of him.

“Assumed, yes, but I am not so
stupid that I did not hear the rumors,” he replied. “Especially when Alexander
was so free with his gossip. And this morn…well, I must say that I am ashamed
of what I did. I guess I wanted to see her for myself, the prize that caused my
William to deceive me. I listened to the gossip, lad, and I knew that although
she left Langton a virgin, she no longer retained that distinction. She would
not tell me that she was not a virgin and I suppose anger and curiosity forced
me to see for myself. Yet for whatever the reasons, I must humbly beg your
forgiveness. It was inexcusable.”

“You had every legal right to
inspect your betrothed, sire,” William said calmly.

The earl slapped his hands on the
desk, causing the parchment to rustle. “Damnation, William, stop being so
evasive with me. I am trying to tell you that I am sorry and that if you wish
to marry the lady, then I shall help you.”

William was dazed. The entire
conversation had been too overwhelming to believe, but believe it he did. He
knew the earl well enough to know he was not being deceived. If he was speaking
the words, then they were sincere. There was no longer any reason why he should
still deny the situation but it had become so much a part of him that he was
unsure as to how to admit his sins.

“I did not enjoy misleading you,
sire,” he whispered finally.

The earl visibly relaxed. Now that
the words were spoken, it would be easier to deal with.