The Wolfe (107 page)

They left the graves and wandered
back into the crumbled fortress.

“Ye ladies will gather yer things,”
Thomas said finally. “Ye leave for England today.”

Jordan and Jemma looked at him,
shocked. “But…da!” Jordan whined. “We only just got here.”

“And ye shouldna have come, ye
little scamps.” Thomas scolded, like he did when she was five years old. “I am
therefore taking ye back home myself.”

Jordan’s eyes were wide. “No, Da. Ye
canna!”

“Aye, I can and I am going to.” he
said curtly. “Now, get what ye brought with ye and I shall go saddle the
horses.”

They tried to protest further but he
waved them off abruptly and donned a heavy, dirty surcoat. Jordan recognized
it; it had once belonged to her Uncle Nathaniel. ‘Twas probably the only
clothes her father had left. But it was warm and offered protection as he
marched out into the bailey were the horses were tethered in a small sheltered
corral.

“What do we do?” Jemma demanded when
he had left.

She turned to her cousin helplessly.
“Go home, as he says,” she said. “We found out all that we could, Jemma. Mayhap
we can convince da to stay at Northwood for a while.”

“But what of Callie and my Da?” Jemma
insisted. “He says they are still alive and I wunna leave them.”

“What are ye going to do, Jemma?”
Jordan asked sharply. “Go after them yerself? Ye can do nothing against the
clans alone. We will have to rely on William and the knights to figure out a
plan. We have to trust them.”

Jemma looked upset, but resigned.
The women had naught else but the clothes on their backs when they came and
they tucked their hair into their caps and left Langton with a kiss and a
promise to return, one day.

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

Jordan rode with her father atop the
brown thoroughbred. She felt like a little girl again, holding him around his
waist and watching the landscape roll by. Thomas kept up a steady stream of
talk and she was relieved to hear her father’s true self returning rapidly.
Until this point, he had seemed somewhat distant to her. But, once again,
Thomas was becoming the lively Scot and both women felt a sense of normalcy
returning. The more he talked, the easier he became.

The weather was cool for summer, but
it was clear and bright as they trotted over the soft hills that were sloping
toward the barren moors of the border. The last time she came south on this
road, it had been with William.

Her heart jumped at that thought,
she wondered if his anger would ease to find her returning on her own. And she
furthermore hoped that he would help her convince her father to return to
England with them for a stay. She hated the thought of him rotting away in the
shell of her former home, alone.

At noon, they rested the horses and
picked some wild blackberries for their meal. Thomas even managed to find an
apple tree with some new apples on it, fruit that sat amazingly well in Jemma’s
turbulent stomach. As they lounged beneath the sparse shade of a small Scot
pine, Jordan began to feel as if she were a young girl again, listening to her
father talk as if they had all the time in the world. She missed those simple
times terribly, but in the same breath she was immensely grateful for her life
as it was. It was far better than she had ever dreamed, even as a young lass.
She had married a man upon which dreams were made.

They were back on the road heading
for Carter Bar. Thomas began to feel safer and safer with each passing mile,
putting more and more distance between his daughter and the clans. He tried not
to think on it, focusing instead on his grandsons that he would soon see and
wishing his sweet Elinor were alive to experience the joy. He patted his
daughter’s arms as they wrapped around his waist, happy beyond words to be
together again. He honestly thought he might never see her again when she left
for England and was thankful his fears had been for naught. His show of faith
had caused a turn in his life that he had never imagined; good and bad.

The landscape was green, but barren
of many trees or shrubs. This was the border, and the moors that encompassed
lt. How many wars had he fought on this soil? He shook his head; there had been
too many to count. He could still see the dead, recognizing tartan. He could
smell the stench of death and see the English; well-organized and lethal as
they cut down his kin. And he could see The Wolf at the head of it, but he
wasn’t bitter. After all, the man had married his daughter and brought more
happiness to her than Thomas could have hoped for. For that reason alone, he
would forget the scourge of The Wolf.

The three of them were focused on
the southern horizon, not taking any particular note of their surroundings.
Behind them to the northwest small dots appeared on the hills, coming toward
them. Unnoticed, the dots multiplied in number and soon grew into distinct
human figures on horseback. They zeroed in on Thomas and the women, weaving
their way toward them at a rapid, steady pace.

Thomas, Jordan and Jemma were oblivious
to the approaching wave, chatting softly about Jordan’s wedding to William.
They were so oblivious to their surroundings that it was too late to do
anything by the time they heard the flurry of hoof beats.

Thomas heard it first and nearly
panicked. He yanked on the reins and spurred the horse at the same time,
confusing the animal into rearing up and pitching both him and his daughter
onto the ground. Jemma, digging her heels into her horse, took off on the run
of her life. Several Scots gave hot pursuit.

Jordan wasn’t hurt; just stunned.
She rolled onto her hands and knees and dozens of horses halted excitedly
around her, kicking dirt up into her face. She rose unsteadily, panicky, and
stumbled over to her father as he picked himself up off the earth. They
clutched at each other, their eyes wide and fearful at the host of riders that
surrounded them.

Riders bearing McKenna tartan.

Thomas was dead inside. How on earth
they knew, how in hell they found him, he knew naught. They had the devil on
their side, a sorcerer with a cauldron who could read minds. But he did know
that Jordan’s life was over and he held out little hope that Jemma would make
it all the way back to Northwood for help. He pulled his daughter close,
wondering what he could promise or pledge to Dunbar McKenna to spare her life.

Abner McKenna pushed his way to the
front of his men atop a beautiful white steed. Thomas felt the bile rise in his
throat when he realized it was Matthew’s horse. Lord, if he’d had a dirk, he
would have taken both his life and his daughter’s rather than let her be taken
by this man.

Abner gave a weak smile. “Thomas
Scott. What are ye doing so far from yer magnificent keep?”

Thomas’ cheeks were shaking with
fear and fury. “Out for a ride, Abner. Little more.”

Abner looked at him and leaned
forward in the saddle, tilting his head. “Who’s yer lover?”

Thomas wasn’t sure if he recognized
Jordan or not. She had her head down, staring at the earth.

“No one ye need concern yerself
over,” he replied evenly. “Why dunna ye go away and leave us be?”

Abner dismounted the horse and went
over to his prisoners. The power he felt at their fear was addicting. Reaching
out, he ripped the cap from Jordan’s head and immediately her messy, glorious
hair spilled out all over her.

Abner’s eyes bugged and Thomas knew
that until this moment he hadn’t realized who she was. He cursed himself silently
for not being quick enough to talk his way free before she had been discovered.

“Sweet Jesus, Joseph and Mary!”
Abner exclaimed. “It’s
her
.”

Jordan raised her beautiful face,
looking him right in the eye. His reaction was instantaneous delight.

“It ‘tis!” he crowed. “Jordan Scott,
right in my hands.”

Murmurs went up through his men and
Abner swung to them. “Did ye hear me, lads? Little did we know when we went out
on patrol today that we would capture the queen herself. God is indeed good.”

As small, amazed cheers went up and
Jordan felt sick. All she could think of was her unborn child. She didn’t care
what they did to her, but she was deathly afraid for the safety of the new life
she carried. She felt her father’s grip around her tighten.

Abner swung around to her, his lips
foaming with excitement. “Jordan Scott. Or should I call ye Jordan de Longley,
Countess of Teviot? We are honored at my lady’s presence.”

He was mocking her, infuriating her.
Damn, she never could keep her mouth shut. “Ye think yer so smart, Abner
McKenna.” she shot back. “Ye know nothing about me.”

Thomas squeezed her tightly to shut
her up. Abner must not know who her true husband was or it would sign her death
warrant for sure. Jordan, silently rebuked, pulled back against her father.

“I know that ye are nothing more
than an English whore.” Abner snipped back. “Sleeping with that soldier captain
and then marrying an English laird. Dunna think that I am that ignorant.”

Jordan, thankfully, kept her mouth
shut. Abner, seeing no reaction, calmed somewhat. Then, suddenly, he reached
out and grabbed her.

“Ye’ll ride with me.” he yanked her
cruelly away from Thomas.

“Nay!” she screamed, struggling.

Thomas lurched forward, only to be
stopped by several soldiers plummeting down from their mounts.

Separated, Jordan and Thomas could
do nothing more than stare helplessly at each other as Abner threw Jordan up
across his saddle, mounting heavily behind her as she struggled to right
herself.

“I shall take her back to the keep.”
Abner announced loudly. “I dunna care what ye do with him.”

As he reined the horse around,
Jordan grew hysterical. Her father, unarmed, surrounded by a dozen McKenna
soldiers terrified her. He was a dead man.

“Da!” she screamed in anguish.

Her hand outstretched to him in
torment. He called back to her, telling her not to worry. She was as good as
dead, he knew, and so was he. He prayed that the soldiers would be merciful.
But as Jordan’s hand extended to him, his reached out to her as if they could
somehow touch even with the great distance separating them. But her face, the
fear in her eyes, burned into his brain until he could see nothing else. He had
failed his daughter and he deserved to have his life ended.

Abner pounded off across the moor
with Jordan across his saddle, leaving Thomas alone with the soldiers.

Thomas didn’t care anymore. His
reason for living was gone. He sank to the cold ground, awaiting a blow from
even colder steel.

***

Jemma’s thoroughbred easily
out-distanced the pursuing soldiers until they were well out of her sight. But
even then she didn’t stop running, afraid that at any second they would somehow
be nipping at her heels.

The horse’s flanks were coated with
sweat as she pounded the endless miles to Northwood, her mind filled with
terror. She was not used to fear or defeat and the knowledge that her cousin
and uncle had been captured by the enemy tore at her until she groaned aloud in
despair. Dear God, she had to find help for them.

The animal raced on and on, minute
blending into hour until she had lost all track of time. Jemma had clutched so
tightly to the reins and the mane that she imagined her hands had become a
physical part of the animal. She had lost her cap way back and her black hair
streamed out behind her as she raced like the wind. She was exhausted and
out-of-control with apprehension.

Yet somewhere In the back of her
mind she knew that Kieran and William were coming for them and she prayed to
any god that would listen that she would come across them soon. Jordan and
Uncle Thomas were in great, great danger and she was not sure how long her own
strength would hold out. If she collapsed and died before she reached help,
then no one would ever know the fates of Jordan and Thomas.

Their foolishness had brought them
to this, hers and Jordan’s. She knew that now in hindsight, but at the time,
their desperation to return home had overshadowed their fears. To risk the
danger was worth the trip, they had thought. But it appeared now that the price
for their attempt was far too high.

As her strength was waning, she saw
something up ahead in the distance. The closer she came, the more she realized
it was a caravan of some sort. Or an army.

She pushed the horse faster.

William and Kieran had seen her
coming.  Across the barren borders, they could see the rider approaching and
they could see, even at the distance, a banner of dark hair behind her.