The Wolfe (86 page)

“I hope for the better, sire,”
William had no idea what the man was talking about.

“Absolutely,” the king nodded. “My
God, man, you were formidable enough before. But now you seem…
indestructible. Mayhap it is that eye patch that gives you such an imposing
presence. Mayhap a wife and children has made you complete in your old age.”

William smiled faintly. “I will not
dispute your wisdom in that, my lord.”

Henry stared at him a moment more
before waving William off. “Ride hard, lad. You have a good deal of cleaning up
to do. I would hear from you as soon as you arrive.”

“By your command, sire.”

***

He returned to Jordan later on that
day after checking on the army he was to lead. Henry had ordered a three
thousand man force, including eight wagons and a full company of mounted
archers. It was damn near the biggest army William had ever seen. He knew the
king was deadly serious about quelling the Scot resistance with this size of a
force and wondered if it were because he felt guilty when he downplayed de
Longley’s concerns. Obviously, the earl had been right.

William’s mind kept wandering to the
conversation he’d had with the king and the strange comments the sovereign had
made. He had used words like invincible, indestructible, complete… had his
injury changed him? He shook his head; he knew not how except that he was
stronger for it. He was still the same person he had always been, with the
exception that he now had sons to care for. And a wife he was madly in love
with.

He shook his head again in
confusion. He would have to ask Jordan if there had been a noticeable change in
his demeanor.  She would tell him the truth.

He was crossing the small courtyard
that led to the apartments where he was housed. He noticed three women several
feet away, the same women that had been in Henry’s audience chamber. They
smiled coyly at him and laughed amongst themselves as he drew closer, but he
ignored them. He had seen the women before, several times since his arrival,
but only recently had they sought his attention openly.

When he was only a few feet away,
much to his distress, one of the women brazenly approached him.

“Baron Kilham,” she said with a
sickly sweet voice. “We are so pleased to see you alive and well again.”

He stopped purely out of courtesy,
even though he could feel his impatience rising. He had no time for these silly
females.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Please call me Miranda,” she batted
her eyelashes at him. “Lady Miranda le Londe. Mayhap you have heard of my
father, Baron Rochedale?”

“Indeed I have,” William replied
evenly, but he almost laughed aloud at her flirty gestures. She had
above-average looks but was a far, far cry from his wife. Naturally, Jordan had
become the standard by which he judged all beauty and he had yet to see a woman
that even came close.

A busty brunette thrust herself
forward, her dress so low cut that he could see the areolas of her nipples. “And
I am Lady Vanessa Moresby, niece to the king’s master chamberlain,” she said, giving
him what he was sure was her best smile. “We heard of your grave wound. God be
praised that you have regained your health.”

“My lady,” he greeted with a slight
bow, discreetly taking a step back to put some distance between them. He was
uncomfortable with their proximity.

The third woman, a tall young
beauty, would not be left out. “My lord,” she curtsied. She seemed to be not as
bold as the others. “I am Lady Charlotte Kincaid, ward of our king and heiress
to Southollow Keep, near Essex.”

William bowed to her politely as
well. Now that they’d had a chance to introduce themselves, he believed the
time to excuse himself was ripe. He bowed again and took another step back only
to be enveloped by Lady Miranda and Lady Vanessa. The women attached their
hands to his massive arms and clung to him like leeches, talking rapidly and
interrupting each other in the haste to make themselves heard. His patience was
quickly gone.

“My lord, you must tell us of your
campaigns in Wales,” Lady Miranda said dramatically. “We heard such horrifying
tales.”

“Ladies, truly, I have no time to
indulge you,” he said firmly but politely, trying to pull his arms free without
much success. “Mayhap another time.”

“Is it true they call you The Wolf?”
Vanessa was clinging persistently to him. “We have heard tale of your battle
prowess here in London. They say you have no weaknesses and that men run at the
simple mention of your name.”

He scowled in disbelief, trying to
pull his arm free of Miranda’s insistent grip. When he opened his mouth to
answer her ridiculous statement, soft, cool hands grasped his own and he saw
that Charlotte was on the offensive.

“Vanessa, surely Sir William does
not wish to speak of his reputation,” she admonished lightly, staring up at him
dreamily. “We have all heard the rumors of the mighty Wolf and king’s champion.
‘Tis no secret that he is the greatest warrior in all of England.”

Oh, God
, William thought.
There was nothing worse than starry-eyed, romantic females. He was sure that
they were not intending to be a nuisance, but that was exactly what they had
become and he had hundreds of other things that required his attention. He was
not a courtier nor a diplomat and he hoped he could end this little encounter
without hurting any feelings, although at this point he didn’t care if he did
or not.

“Ladies, I must be gone,” he said,
taking deliberate motions to remove the hands latching on to him. “I am
mobilizing an army as we speak. Good day to you.”

He took several hasty steps
backward, making sure they didn’t follow him. The women watched him with wide,
adoring eyes. Miranda even waved. But when he turned around to continue on his
way, they rushed up behind him and snared him like a rabbit in a trap.

“Then we will walk with you,  my
lord.” Vanessa said loudly. “Surely there is no harm in that.”

William stopped and rolled his eye
in irritation. He felt like shouting at them but controlled his temper, at
least, for the moment.

“You may not accompany me,” he said
with great restraint.

“Please, my lord,” Miranda begged.
“We have had so little time to get to know the great Wolf.”

William was rapidly becoming angered.
His jaw began to tick.

“Would you ladies kindly let go of
my arms?” he said through clenched teeth. “I am losing circulation in them.”

“And I am losing patience.” Came a
sharp Scot accent.

William’s head snapped around to see
his wife standing a few feet away. God in Heaven, he hadn’t even seen her coming.
What in the hell was she doing out of bed?

“Jordan?” he gasped.

“Aye,
Jordan,
” She walked
toward him, albeit very stiffly, glaring at the three women hot enough to melt
steel. “Unhand my husband, ye hussies. How dare ye touch the king’s champion as
if he were a prize stallion to be inspected.”

Scot temper was legendary. The women
let go of William and backed off, staring in astonishment at the beautiful,
red-faced woman. Jordan stalked them and with every step she took forward, they
would back up a pace.

“I ought to kill the lot of ye for
so much as speaking to him,” she snarled. “Ye’re nothing but whores in court
guise, pretending to be innocent virgins so ye can catch a husband when the
truth is that yer legs are open for anything in breeches.”

The three women backed into an
outraged group, stopping to face off against the charges.

“How dare you speak…!” Miranda
began.

“Shut yer mouth, bitch,” Jordan
snapped viciously, jabbing her finger at the cluster. “Hear me well, all of ye.
If I so much as catch wind that ye’ve been near my husband again, I shall take
a mace to ye. Do ye understand?”

Vanessa was red in the face. “You cannot
speak to us like that.”

“I can and I did. What do ye intend
to do about it? Have yer male kin come after me?” she put her hands on her hips
arrogantly. “Go right ahead, but make sure ye tell them that the woman they are
to punish is The Wolf’s wife. I am sure they will be most eager to defend ye
with that bit of knowledge.”

Duly stumped, the women continued to
back away from the livid woman, shooting her angry glances as they skulked back
across the compound. Jordan glared daggers at them the entire way, until they
disappeared into the depths of the castle.

When the women were gone from sight,
Jordan heard slow, deliberate clapping behind her. Still furious, she turned to
see William applauding her with a lazy smile on his face.

“Bravo, Lady de Wolfe,” he said
wryly. “Remind me never to get your dander up.”

She glowered at him. “One of us had
to discourage them,” she said coldly. “Since ye couldna seem to find the
backbone for it, I had to.”

His smile faded. “Jordan, you are
wrong on that assumption and you know it. ‘Tis much more difficult for a man to
be rude to a woman than for a woman to be rude to another woman.”

She sighed heavily, disgusted. She
had been watching for him from her window overlooking the courtyard and had
seen the entire confrontation. True, her husband had tried to break away from
them, but he had not been near firm enough in her opinion, which was why she
had hastily dressed and moved faster than she thought possible with her
soreness. She knew she should not be out of bed, much less walking, but she was
so damn jealous and angry her emotions outweighed her better sense.

“I am tired,” she began to walk away
from him.

William was upon her in two strides,
sweeping her into his arms. “No doubt, my lady,” he said sternly. “You should
not have come down here.”

She went rigid. “But I did, and a
good thing, too, or those whores would still be pawing ye.”

He sighed, walking rapidly into the
castle. “Can we simply forget about this, please? I must leave at dusk and I
would hate to spend the last precious hours fighting with you.”

She was still angry but when he
mentioned his departure her fury quickly banked. Pouting, she held onto his
neck and stroked his skin the entire way back to their apartments.

Once inside, he went straight to
their bedchamber and attempted to set her upon the bed, but she balked.

“Dunna put me down, English.” She
lay her head upon his shoulder. “Hold me for just a little while longer.”

The tone she used always melted him.
“Can I take off my armor first?” he asked.

“Aye,” she said reluctantly,
allowing him to put her down while he removed his mail and plates.

She watched him as he removed his
tunic, then bent over her to remove her slippers. All the while she noticed a
faint smile playing on his lips.

“Why are ye smiling?” she asked,
weary.

He glanced at her, his eye twinkling.
“I was simply thinking that you acted quite a bit like your cousin down there. Jemma
may show her temper more often, but by damn, if you do not have the fire of the
devil in you when you are riled.”

She fought off a grin, turning her
head from him. “I thought ye wanted to forget about it.”

“I do,” he insisted, crawling onto
the bed beside her. “But when I see greatness of strength I point it out. You, my
lady, are a firebrand and I for one was proud of the way you rushed to my
defense. You are very protective.”

She looked at him the, reaching out
to trace the line of his face with her finger. “I am protective of what is
mine,” she said softly. “Ye’re mine, English, and I want everyone in this
decadent little town to know it. I shall kill anyone who threatens ye.”

He grinned. “Then you would be
killing half of England, Wales and Scotland.”

She joined in his mirth. “Ye know
what I mean, English. I mean of the female sex. Men naturally hate ye, but hate
is the least of yer worries as far as women are concerned.”

He looked away from her with a
careless shrug. “I care not what women think of me.”

She put her hand on his chin,
forcing him to look at her. “Be that as it may, women are attracted to ye and
ye must be mindful unless ye want to see yer wife end up in the Tower as a
murderess.”

He laughed. “Would ye kill for me,
truly?”

“Would ye kill for me?”

His frivolity was gone. “Without
question. You are mine.”

CHAPTER FORTY

March was a bleak month. Much of the
ground was still frozen and the sky was a constant shade of gray. The army kept
warm with layers of clothing and armor and by marching twenty hours a day. William
drove a hard pace, wanting to reach Northwood before she was razed.

William, Kieran and Deinwald said
little, ate little, and slept less. They were all worried about their comrades and
friends, wondering what state they would find them in upon their arrival.
William felt increasingly guilty that Captain Payton-Forrester had been called
into this war, as well as the other battle captains. He knew they had done it
for him, and he was consumed with remorse for the losses he knew they had
already sustained. This was not their battle. It was his.