The Wolfe (97 page)

“Nay,” he replied before she even
got the question out of her mouth. “I trust you implicitly, Jordan. Love, do not
misunderstand my questions. I am simply trying to see the situation.”

“And what is it that ye see?” she
wanted to know.

He gave her a humorless smiled. “I
see a pampered, spoiled man who lusts for something that can never be his, and
he does not care whose lives he ruins in the process.”

“What are ye going to do?”

He shook his head. “I do not know.”

She took a few timid steps toward
him. “Are ye angry with me, English?”

“Nay,” he told her. “The only thing
you are guilty of is beauty and warmth, and innocence. De Troiu would take
advantage of that.”

She turned away from him and sat on
the bed. “I am afraid that I have shamed ye with these rumors.”

He went to stand in front of her. “Never
think that you have shamed me in any way, Jordan.” His tone scared her and her
head came up to look at him. “You are my greatest single achievement in this
life. You are my pride and my joy. The person to bear the shame is de Troiu.”

She sighed, her eyes huge and sad.
She was ashamed and depressed, and the sight of William’s face gazing upon her
was enough to make her feel weak and childlike.

“Hold me,” she begged softly.

He dropped to his knees, his arms
wrapping around her tightly. She clung to his neck, her face burled in the
crook. It was enough to simply feel her against him, her fragrance enveloping
him until his senses were reeling from the sweet torment of it. They had been
apart so long and so much had happened that his heart was twisting from the joy
after the long and anguishing separation.

He began to kiss her, every bit of
exposed skin on her neck and face. When he tasted salt on her face and knew she
was crying, it drove him mad. He would kill de Troiu for the pain he had caused
her, he vowed silently. But first, he would make sweet love to his wife.

He began to fling off bits of his
clothing between fevered kisses, unlatching his leg armor as she stripped off
his tunic. Her dress was off in a matter of seconds, but he left the breeches
and garters because he suddenly found them incredibly sexy. Naked, the both of
them, he pushed her back on the bed and covered with his huge, eager body.

“Oh, English,” she gasped into his
mouth. “I have waited so long for this.”

His hands were all over her,
massaging her plump breasts. “When I saw you in the courtyard this was all I
could think of,” he whispered raggedly. “You look better than you ever have,
wife. Having babies agrees with you.”

She moaned softly as he plunged his
tongue into her mouth, licking her erotically as his hand began to caress her woman’s
center. She squirmed and writhed against him, her loins instinctively slick and
wet in preparation for his massive organ. His mouth trailed hotly down her neck
to her breasts and he gently took a swollen nipple into his mouth, tonguing it
endlessly before suckling ever so softly. When he tasted her sweet milk, the
essence of her motherhood, he went instantly insane with desire and sucked her
dry on both breasts.

Jordan was almost incoherent with
pure ecstasy. Unbeknownst to her, tears of joy were streaming down her temples
as he paid delicious attention to her ripe breasts. When he finally pulled
himself away and drug his mouth down her softly rounded belly, she knew he was
seeking the very core of her and her legs parted for him intuitively.

He lay between her legs, his hand
gently stroking the dark blond curls. “It has only been six weeks, love,” he
said hoarsely.

“Are you sure I will not hurt you?”

“Nay,” she said faintly. “There has
been enough time, and I am healed. Byron removed the stitches long ago.”

He had to see what she was talking
about, see for himself that he would not re-tear the wound she received giving
birth. He spread her thick lips, his finger running along the tiny, pink scar
now slick with lubricant from her body. She was indeed healed and perfect and
he was constantly amazed that such a small passage could accommodate him so
beautifully, as well as birth two large babies. She was, as always, remarkable.

He would wait no longer. Pulling
himself up, he pulled her thighs up around him and drove into her. She stifled
a moan at his entry, but she was so tight from disuse that it took him another
surge to fully embed himself into her hot passage. He shuddered with satisfaction,
feeling the walls of her core wrap around him.

“God, Jordan…,” he breathed,
withdrawing almost completely before ramming back into her.

The process was exquisitely
maddening. His thrusts were sweeter and more powerful than she had ever
remembered and she was instantly responding to him, her hips meeting his with
blinding force. Sweat coated their bodies, mingling, as they moved with one another,
achieving the ultimate climax together and maintaining a bit of heaven for a
small eternity until they floated, reluctantly, down to earth once again.

He fell atop her, holding her
beautiful body close to him for long minutes, wanting to remain there forever
but knowing his knights were still in the other room. He had to smile when he wondered
if they were all crowding about the door, listening. He didn’t care if they
were or not.

“English,” she whispered. “Yer men
are going to begin to wonder what has happened to ye.”

He propped himself up to look at
her, still embedded in her. “If they have any brains, they know what has
happened to me.”

She blushed and slapped playfully at
him with embarrassment. He laughed low in his throat and kissed her.

“Have no fear, love, for they will
say nothing,” he said, withdrawing to moans from both of them. He sighed
heavily with the pleasure. “Not even if they heard our screams of passion would
they mention them.”

She grinned, running her hand over
his face. “I love ye.”

His gaze turned incredibly soft and
loving. “And I love you.”

They rose and dressed, Jordan
fighting off a blush for she knew the moment she walked back into the antechamber,
all heads would turn to look at her. On the other side of the closed door, she
could hear a baby crying.

“‘Tis Troy,” she said, brushing her
hair quickly. “He is hungry.”

William looked sheepish. “And I ate
his dinner.”

She laughed. “The wet nurse is in
the nursery, so have no fear that they will go hungry.”

They went back into the antechamber
and William retrieved both sons, kissing their little heads gently before
passing them over to their mother. It was the first time he had held them since
they had been born. Jordan avoided making eye contact with the knights simply
because she was terrified she would flush a bright red if they as much as
smiled at her.

She quickly took the babies back to
the nursery. When she returned, William was speaking to the knight she did not
recognize, the new one that had come with them from Northwood and had made
himself practically invisible during the reunion.

William saw her come back in and
turned to her. “Jordan, I would like you to meet someone,” he indicated the
well-built young knight. “This is Sir John Gainsborough. Gainsborough, this is
my wife, Lady de Wolfe. Sir John is Captain Payton-Forrester’s second in
command.

Jordan bobbed a curtsy. “Sir knight,
‘tis a pleasure.”

He bowed gallantly. “The pleasure is
mine, my lady. I am honored to finally meet The Wolf’s lady wife.”

He seemed nice enough, but she
wondered what had happened to Lewis and Adam. She didn’t want to ask her
husband again for she knew he would tell her when he was ready.

Jordan ordered a large meal and
shortly they were all seated, enjoying the finer foods from the king’s
kitchens. It was a tremendously enjoyable meal and Jordan could not remember
being more happy or gay. The knights joked and teased one another, and her as
well, and she felt as if she were sitting with her family. Except she had never
loved her family the way she loved these men.

As they were enjoying the last of
the meal, there was a knock at the door. Jordan rose, insisting that the
knights to remain seated and keep eating. Going to the door, she was stunned to
see de Troiu standing in the door jamb.

“Jordan!” he exclaimed. “I must
speak with you, dearest. I had to threaten your man before he would let me
through, but I simply
must
speak with you.”

Jordan’s mouth was agape as she
glanced over de Troiu’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of d’Vant. He stood several
feet away and gave her a devilish grin before turning away. In that second she
knew that the baron had no idea her husband and his knights were in the room
behind her. The open door furthermore blocked his view of the eating table.

Jordan wasn’t sure if she should let
him in or tell him to run for his life. He made the decision for her by putting
his hands on her upper arms insistently.

“Please, dear, let me in so that I
may speak with you,” he pushed her back and stepped into the room.

William slammed the door behind him
so hard that the windows on the opposite wall rattled. De Troiu spun around in
shock only to come face to face with The Wolf himself. Simultaneously he became
aware of an entire table of knights, standing around a table, several feet
away. His heart lurched into his throat.

“De Wolfe!” he exclaimed, nearly in
fear. “I had not heard of your arrival.”

William’s jaw ticked. “No doubt,” he
growled. “What is so important that you would take your life into your hands by
coming to see my wife?”

De Troiu was stumped. His mind was
wildly trying to think of an excuse to tell the baron but all that came out of
his mouth was a stammer.

“Well, nothing, really I had
heard…that is, I was under the impression that I had offended your wife and
I…simply wanted to apologize.” He rapidly turned to Jordan. “For whatever I
have done to offend you, I apologize.”

She opened her mouth to reply but
William suddenly closed the distance between he and de Troiu, and stood
menacingly over the shorter man.

“You have said your peace,” he said.
“You should have stayed away from my wife, Daniel. The next time I see you, it
will be for our duel.”

De Troiu went from real fear to
defiant anger. “Duel? For what?” he wanted to know. “I haven’t done anything
except keep your wife company in your absence. The poor lady was miserable
while you were off romping about the wilds killing her fellow Scots.”

Jordan could almost hear a collective
groan go up amidst the knights, de Troiu had a death wish speaking to William
in such a manner. Whatever happened now, William was completely justified in
his actions.

But William’s face remained
completely in control. In fact, he seemed calmer than he had just a moment
before.

“I would thank you now for the
support of Deauxville Mount and the assistance of Captain Brockenhurst,” he
said. “The man is an invaluable friend and ally. You, however, have overstepped
your bounds. I know of the rumors of you and my wife, and I further know you
encouraged them. Would you do me the courtesy of telling me the reason behind
this insanity before I strike you down?”

De Troiu was shaking with anger and
fear. “I owe you nothing, de Wolfe. I do not answer to you.”

William held up a finger. “When you
involve my wife in your sordid affairs, you answer to me before you answer to
God. I will kill you for tarnishing my wife’s reputation.”

The baron fought to remain calm. “Then
you will have to fight Brockenhurst. He is my champion.”

“And he is at Northwood,” William
reminded him icily. “‘Tis you I will call out, here and now. Choose your weapon;
it makes no difference to me.”

“I would see what the king has to
say about your challenge,” de Troiu said.

“This is between you and I, Daniel,”
William lowered his voice. “‘Tis you who have pursued my wife, not the king.
This is a matter of personal honor. Be a man for once and take responsibility
for your actions.””

The baron stared at William before
looking to Jordan. She gazed back at him emotionlessly. “What did you tell him,
Jordan?” he demanded harshly.

In the blink of an eye, William
grabbed de Troiu and slammed him violently into the wall. Jordan was suddenly
shoved out of the way by Deinwald as the knights rushed to pry William off of
the earl. She was frightened listening to de Troiu’s fearful grunts and the
soft pleas of Paris and Kieran to William to let the smaller man go.

Half of the knights seemed to be
pulling on de Troiu while the other half were firmly trying to wrestle William’s
hands from around the man’s neck. Terrified, Jordan stood behind Deinwald with
her eyes bugging.

It didn’t help matters when de Troiu
kicked out in panic, striking William in the thigh. When it became apparent
that William was bent on strangling the earl at that very moment, Deinwald let go
of Jordan and rushed forward, jamming himself between the two men and managing
to break William’s hold with a good deal of effort.