The Wolfe (54 page)

Oh my God
, Thomas thought.
This kind of war could take years, and he was so damn sick of fighting. He
glanced at the other allies to gage their reactions and was appalled to see
that they were as staunch as Oliver.
They’ve already discussed this
, he
thought in growing realization. They have already planned this and his agreement
was to be a mere formality.

“I see,” Thomas said with controlled
anger. “I see, in fact, a great many things. I see that this is not a response
to yer defeat at The Lyceum, but in fact, something ye appear to have been
planning for a while. When I signed the treaty with Northwood, it threw yer
plans haywire because ye need Langton’s strength and her strategic position.
This excuse about Northwood’s troops fighting Scots is simply a convenient
reason for me to dissolve the treaty.”

Most of the latter was speculation,
of course, but he felt he was not getting the whole of the story. He never believed
Oliver Barr to be a power monger, but the man’s story was telling him exactly that.

Oliver sat back in his chair. “See
it as ye will, Thomas. But the fact remains that Langton canna survive without
her allies. Ye need us and we need ye. And if we controlled the borders,
‘twould fill our coffers and benefit all of our kin. There is great advantage
in it.”

Thomas felt Nathaniel stiffen beside
him; his brother had a vile temper when roused. This talk of coffers and power
had a familiar ring, but it was not coming from a familiar mouth. There was
only one man who spoke of unreachable visions of gold and glory.

“True, there is an advantage to it,
but how many will die to see yer daft scheme through?” Nathaniel said. “‘Tis
madness of which ye speak. Did Dunbar McKenna have any part in this idea of
yers?”

Oliver straightened angrily. “Dunbar
McKenna has pledged his full support, if that’s what ye mean. The man knows the
meaning of the word ally and I am proud to be allied with him.”

Thomas passed a glance at his
brother. Dunbar McKenna. Of course. The bastard was always craving what was not
his, including Jordan for his dimwitted son, Abner. Mayhap this was his way of
getting back at Thomas for refusing a betrothal. He had no way of knowing that
Dunbar was behind this, but his head was literally spinning with possibility.

The McKenna probably did more than
pledge his support, he probably planted the seed that created this mess.
Suddenly Thomas had had enough. He slammed his cup down and rose.

“I shall think on this and give ye
my answer in three days,” he told them sternly. “Be gone with ye, I am sick of
seeing yer tired faces.”

The men stood wearily and began to
file from the hall, the soft buzz of muted conversation following them. Oliver
was the last one from the room.

“I shall wait to hear from ye,
Thomas,” he said in what could be termed as a threat. “I pray ‘twill be the
correct decision.”

Thomas didn’t answer, nor did he
look at him. As soon as they were gone, he let out a blustery sigh and swept
his cup from the table in an angry gesture. “Damn.”

“What are ye going to do?” Nathaniel
asked, sitting on the table.

Thomas shrugged. “What would ye do?”

His brother pursed his lips. “Seems
that we’re damned one way or t’other,” he said. “But since ye asked, I shall
tell ye. The treaty with Northwood is not only for peace, but that with Jordan
as their countess, they are obliged to us. Now think of all the English
warlords that are obliged to them? I dunna worry about our hot-headed allies
when I think that one word to the laird of Teviot and we could have thousands
of soldiers at our disposal.”

“The treaty said nothing of an
alliance, only peace,” Thomas reminded him. “They are in no way obligated to us
except in that they willna fight agin us.”

“Untrue,” Nathaniel countered. “An
alliance was the whole purpose of the treaty. They are sworn to fight wi’ us
now, wi’ Jordan as their countess.”

Thomas looked at his brother. He was
so damned weary he wished everyone would just leave him be. But there was much
to do in three days and he could not consider resting.

“Then let’s find out what the earl’s
interpretation of the treaty is,” he said finally, sitting down in his chair. “Get
me ink and vellum. We’ll send a missive to the laird and see just exactly how
far his loyalty goes.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Jordan had not seen William since he
had brought her back from Analiese’s room. That evening would mark the
beginning of Adam’s knighting ceremony and he had much to do, so he had kissed
her tenderly on the forehead and moved on to his pressing duties. She was sorry
to see him go, but she was also glad so that he would not see her in her agony
as she fought off a monstrous wine-induced headache. And after her run-in with
the soldier, she was shaken to the core.

She relayed the incident with
Alexander to Jemma and her cousin was furious to say the least. She ranted and
raved and threatened to punch the man’s face in, but in the same breath she
thanked God that she had confessed Jordan’s whereabouts to the captain. She had
been terrified that Jordan would never speak to her again.

Michael was left in charge of the
ladies that afternoon. She was surprised when he insisted that she go for a
walk, contending that the fresh air would help clear her head. She agreed, but Jemma
was even worse off than she was and took to her bed with a splitting headache
and an upset stomach. Her condition was as much from the whisky as from her
upsetting day. Not even Kieran, stopping by briefly to check in on his little
firebrand, could get her out of bed. Miserable, she remained with the maids to
care for her while Jordan left with Michael.

The day was cooler than it had been
since she arrived, though it was still unusually humid. Jordan wore a somewhat
plain gauzy linen surcoat with a simple golden tassel girdle draped over her
hips. Any sort of weighty material upset her stomach, as did the heat, so she
wore the surcoat with nothing on underneath save her slippers. The material was
opaque so she was not revealing anything, yet she felt somewhat naughty and
brazen without so much as a shift on. But it felt wonderful and cool and free
and she was feeling better already.

The sun had brought some color to
her pale cheeks and her lightened mood kept a smile on Michael’s face as she
chatted about anything that came to mind. Keeping an eye out for William, she
directed Michael to the tanner’s shed where she intended to check on her boots. 
Michael, mostly silent since he was conscious of his stutter, did manage to
pipe up now and again.

Several guests from the engagement
party were up and walking about, although they looked to be feeling about as
well as she was. Since Adam’s knighting ceremony was following on the heels of
the party and the actual wedding was a mere two days away, nearly everyone who
was at the party was being housed in and around Northwood, and that included
over a thousand soldiers from various houses. Those men, however, were confined
to the outer bailey and the training field. Several encampments surrounded the
fortress to house them.

One of the visiting barons, Daniel
de Troiu of Deauxville Mount, had been particularly friendly to her in a
pleasant sort of way. She thought him a rather handsome man with his bright
blue eyes, black hair and thin mustache. He had danced several dances with her
the night before and she had come to enjoy his quick humor and mannerly
behavior.

De Troiu spent a good deal of time
talking to her in the sun, and with every passing minute Jordan could feel
Michael stiffening beside her. She had no doubt the protective instincts were
on William’s behalf and decided to wind up the conversation. With a man as
large as Michael, ‘twas not a good thing to pique his temper. Saying her
good-byes, she hastened Michael on to the tanner.

The man had finished the boots, he
told her, and the cobbler was finishing with the soles at that very moment.
Thrilled, she saw that the boots were beautiful doeskin and she was eager to
try them on. She was making small talk with the tanner as she watched the cobbler
work when they were briefly interrupted by the man’s wife.

Jordan looked up and instantly
recognized the woman who had loaned her the apron to cover her head wound on
the first day she had arrived. Her face lit up.

“My pardon, mistress, but what is yer
name?” she asked the woman.

The plump woman with a kind face and
big apple cheeks smiled and curtsied deeply. “Sylvie, my lady.”

“Sylvie,” Jordan repeated. “Ye were
the one who loaned me yer apron when I was hit by the rock, weren’t ye. I dinna
have a chance to thank ye that day, and I apologize it has taken me this long
to find ye. Yer kindness meant a great deal to me.”

The woman blushed. “Think nothing of
it, my lady,” she insisted. “I would have asked Sir William if he would allow
me to tend to you, but the man was set on murder and I was afraid to. I see
that you have no scar.”

Jordan pulled her hair back so that
the woman might see. “Just a little scab, but no scar, I think,” she stepped
around the tanner so she wasn’t speaking over him. “What is yer function here at
Northwood?”

“Why, my Sylvie is the midwife here,”
the tanner said proudly. “She has birthed nearly every babe for the past ten
years. And she does a good deal of cooking for the poor and sick.”

Jordan smiled at the man’s prideful boast.
“Then I was right; ye are a generous woman.” She was struck with an idea. “How
would ye like to serve me, Sylvie? I could certainly use yer knowledge and
company.”

Sylvie was overwhelmed. “My lady,
that is a wonderful offer. But you have your own servants, don’t you? I have
seen you with a pretty dark haired lass, and you brought two women with you as
well.”

“True, I already have two maids,” Jordan
coincided. “But the dark-haired lass is my cousin and she is more of a
companion than a servant, and my maids have their hands full with her to cater
to. I really could use ye, if ye’re willing.”

Sylvie was obviously thrilled. “Can
I still tend to my midwifing duties?”

“Of course,” Jordan laughed. “I
wunna deprive future babies of yer expert hands.”

It didn’t take long for Sylvie to
reach a decision. “Then I would be honored, my lady. Besides, you need someone
to take proper care of you. I have seen those knights, the way they hang all
over you. Disgraceful.”

Michael cleared his throat and took
a step back from Jordan, causing her to burst out with laughter. She put her
hand on Michael’s arm so he would not disappear altogether.

“The knights have been most kind and
gentle to me, mistress, and I consider them my very best friends,” she told
Sylvie. “I shall see ye up in my rooms later today, if that is agreeable.”

Sylvie gave her a quick curtsy and a
thank you and was gone. Jordan returned her attention to her boots, happy to
have found the woman who helped her. Truth be known, she wanted an earthy woman
to balance out the worldly court lady who would be arriving any day now. She
had no idea what to expect and her apprehension was growing. Now, with Sylvie
around, mayhap the court lady would not be so upper-handed with the naive Scot.

Satisfied she had made a good choice
this day and her headache all but forgotten, she and Michael resumed their
walk.

***

It was near dusk.

Paris and Kieran had prepared Adam
through most of the afternoon for the ceremony that awaited him. Adam was truly
worthy, in William’s opinion, to be admitted into the brotherhood of knights
and looked forward to officiating. The last knight he had officiated had been
Corin, and that had been two years ago.

He had a hell of a time keeping the earl
out of his hair, for the man was so eager to see his son knighted that he
became William’s shadow, making sure he was in on every decision that directly
affected his boy.

Finally, in a desperate attempt to
rid himself of the nuisance, he convinced the earl that the feast on the morrow
would be of the utmost significance and insisted that the earl himself see to
it. De Longley, in full agreement, complied and left him alone.

As dusk came, Jordan and Jemma
watched from their rooms for any sign of the procession of knights. A cooling
wind caressed their faces as they watched and eagerly waiting, wishing they
could attend this momentous event. The mystery was exciting.

As the pomp and circumstance began
to commence, it occurred to Jordan that Michael was in her antechamber, not
participating in the festivities. With a furrowed brow, she wandered in the
room where he was standing near the window, watching the happenings below.

“Michael, why aren’t ye attending
Adam with the others?” she asked.

He looked at her. “Because someone
had to watch over you, m-my lady.”

She didn’t believe him. “There are
soldiers to do that. You should be down there with the other knights.”