The Wolfe (80 page)

Analiese swallowed hard, desperately
trying to comprehend what she was being told. “You didn’t trust me?”

“Of course I trust ye.” Jordan
insisted. “This has nothing to do with trust. ‘Tis just…I knew that ye loved
William and I dinna want ye hating me, ‘tis all.”

Analiese sat a moment, contemplating
everything. Aye, she had loved William once and supposed in some way, she
always would. But that was past and she squared her shoulders firmly.

“I was always very fond of William,
but he is beneath my station and therefore it was a waste of time to dream of
what could never be.” She forced herself to smile and took Jordan’s hand. “Then
this child is his, not my father’s?”

Jordan nodded. “Aye,” she peered
closer at her friend. “Are ye angry with me?”

Analiese shook her head and rose
from the chair. “Never. I am truly happy that you and William have found
happiness. You know, I always thought there might be something between you two,
as much as you attempted to deny it. But I guess I never really believed it
until now,” her plain face washed with concern. “Oh, Jordan, I am so sorry he’s
ill. Of course you must go to him.”

The focus has shifted from Analiese
back to Jordan and she felt her pain blossoming again. How fortunate that
Analiese took the news so well, for she truly didn’t think she was emotionally
strong enough to fend off a tirade.

“Alexander doesna know about William
and I, but Adam does,” she said softly, fixing Analiese with a sincere stare. “Alexander
mustna know.”

“He will not hear it from me,”
Analiese said firmly.

In fact, she had ceased speaking to
her brother all together some time back.  He had become distant and odd, a
bitter shell of a man who was self-centered and mean.  She used to be able to
communicate with him better than anyone, but no longer. Oddly enough, she
didn’t particularly regret it. 

Moving her thoughts away from her
churlish brother, she noticed Jordan’s trunks. “What can I help you with?” she
said. “It appears as if you are mostly packed.”

Relieved and weary, Jordan turned
her attention back to her baggage and Analiese helped Jordan finish packing. When
she was finished,  she did something remarkable - she asked to accompany her to
London in Jemma’s stead. Jordan was more than glad to have her go, relieved
beyond words that they were still friends in spite of the great falsehood
between them.  It proved that their relationship was indeed more than
superficial.

Byron joined them not an hour later,
carrying a larger than usual black bag. Jordan looked at him curiously.

“Where are ye going with that thing?”
she asked.

“With you, my lady,” he replied,
planting himself in a chair. “Sylvie must stay here with Jemma, and I must go
with you. Besides, there is no telling what that charlatan who calls himself
the king’s physician has done to The Wolf. I will probably have to lift spells
and bleed him to make him well again.”

Jordan smiled a little, tremendously
grateful to have Byron accompanying her. Seems her traveling party was growing
by the hour; everyone afraid to let her go and determined to do everything in
their power to force her not to exert herself.

None was more concerned about her
than Paris. He knew she was going regardless of what he said or did, so he
marched down to the stables and had the hands retrieve the large traveling
carriage that had once been used by de Longley’s wife. It was a little worn
from sheer disuse, but Paris put ten men to clean and repair the rig. If Jordan
was indeed going, then it would be in the most comfortable possible way.

Christ, he was scared. William, his
best friend in the entire world, was dying and there was not a damn thing he
could do about it. William had entrusted him with Jordan’s life, a duty that
took priority over his obligations at Northwood. Heavy with child, she was his
main concern. And now she was hell-bent on travelling to London to be by
William’s side in his last hours. Paris felt like a failure.

He felt as if he had no control over
anything, as if everything was slipping away from him. What if William did die?
What if Jordan had her babe on the road and something terrible happened to one,
or both? He would be a worthless human being for failing in his
responsibilities. And Paris, like William, was unused to failure.

The carriage was readied in mere
hours. With all of the people Paris had put to work on it, he had expected it
sooner but was pleased just the same.

Just after dusk he stood in the
brightly lit stable yard watching the workmen put the finishing touches on the
wheels. He hadn’t even eaten his dinner, yet he was not hungry. He was driven to
have everything as perfect as he could possibly prepare it.

Kieran joined him in the stable yard.
Paris glanced at the man, tired to the very bone and he began to feel the
return of the pain to his heart. Looking at Kieran brought on memories of
William and his current condition, but he fought it.

“Well?” He looked at Kieran.

“Well
what
?”

“Are you a husband yet?”

“Aye, that I am,” Kieran nodded with
a grin. “Damn strangest wedding I have ever been to. The bride pregnant and a-bed,
the groom dirty and smelly and unshaven. But we are married and that is all
that matters.”

“Sorry I could not have attended the
happy occasion. And how is your wife faring?” Paris inquired.

“Big as a house, but well,” he
replied. “She complains her arse hurts her all the time and she is going to
fat.”

“She is highly jealous that Jordan
still has permission to roam about freely,” Paris said.

“I know,” Kieran’s smile faded. “And
she was insistent that we wait for Jordan to attend our ceremony. I had to tell
her about William and she was nearly hysterical. She knows Jordan is going to
London and she is adamant that she go with her.”

“Impossible, of course,” Paris’ jaw
ticked. “Jordan should not even be going.”

Kieran let out a long, weary sigh. “Yet
she is and there is nothing either one of us can do about it.” He crossed his
arms and gazed out over the yard with its goats and cats and skinny dogs. “I do
not want to deliver William’s child, Paris. The very thought that the lives of
his wife and child are in my hands scare the hell out of me.”

“How do you think I feel?” Paris
returned softly. “I promised William I would look out for her, yet I am
allowing her to make this long journey to London. But I cannot keep her here in
good conscience, Kieran. If William does die and she was not there with him,
then she will hate me the rest of her life. And I could not deal with that.”

“My feelings exactly,” his friend
replied, rubbing his hands over his face. “God, Paris, what if he
does
die? I know his only concern would be for the welfare of his wife and child.
What will become of them?”

“Nothing,” Paris said with grim
determination. “I would marry her in that event.”

Kieran looked at him. “You would?”

Paris shrugged, it was well known to
his close friends that marriage was on a par with the Black Death to Paris. To
avoid at all costs. “I would consider it,” he muttered.

Kieran smiled. “You would do it and
kill anyone who stood in your way. Do not lie to me, Paris. If William had not
taken an interest in her, then you would have been after her like a hound after
a rabbit.”

Paris scowled at him. “And what
about you? Thank God Jemma came along or you and William would have eventually
come to blows. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“I did no such thing,” Kieran
snorted. “You are mad.”

“You think so?” Paris pushed his way
into Kieran’s face, his hands on his hips. “You can lie to William, but do not try
to deceive me. I know better, Kieran. I know you were falling for Jordan, and
falling hard.”

Kieran stepped back, avoiding his
gaze. “You are insane, Paris. You must be thinking of Deinwald. Or Michael. Or
Marc. Hell, they could not take their eyes off her.”

Paris shook his head hard. “Deinwald
would have taken Jemma over Jordan, and all Michael is interested in is another
conquest. Marc, however, would be considerable competition.”

Kieran’s eyes narrowed. “Did
Deinwald tell you that? Does he have an interest in Jemma?”

“Nay, he did not say a word. He
fears you too much.” Paris waved him off, then gave him a sort of reproachful
look. “I never thought you would lie to me, old friend.”

“I have not,” Kieran met his look steadily.

Before the argument could continue,
both men caught sight of a shrouded figure moving toward them, a big female
figure. They turned to Aloria as she approached.

“My lords,” she greeted. “I have
just come from Lady Jordan’s rooms. She is packed and ready.”

“She is going to have to wait until
morning,” Paris said firmly. “She will not be departing this night.”

Aloria nodded, glancing at the
carriage. “She will be traveling in that? Well and good.”

Paris glanced at the carriage as
well. “By damn, if she is going to have the babe on the road, then better to
have it in a firm shelter,” he turned back to Aloria. “Will you be going with
her?”

“Byron and Analiese are to accompany
Lady de Wolfe,” she replied. “I will stay here and assist Sylvie with Lady
Hage.”

Satisfied, Paris nodded. “How is
Lady de Wolfe faring?”

Aloria shook her head. “Staunch and
determined, I am afraid, to go to London,” she said sadly. “God himself could not
keep her from going. She will not even go and visit Lady Hage because she is
afraid her cousin will try and talk her out of this madness.”

“Jemma must be having fits,” Kieran
muttered to Paris. “Well, I suppose I had better go and calm my wife down before
she has that baby sooner than expected.” With a brief nod to Aloria, he was
gone.

Paris and Aloria stood silently for
several moments. Aloria cleared her throat softly. “Is the baron truly dying, my
lord?”

“I am told so.”

Aloria sighed sadly. “She lives for
him, you know. ‘Twill surely kill her if he dies.”

Paris stiffened. “Nay, she will
simply learn how to live without him. As we all will.”

Aloria stood there another moment or
so before giving Paris a small curtsy and excusing herself. She was a few feet
away when she suddenly stopped.

“Captain,” she faced Paris
hesitantly. “In spite of my rough beginning here, the baron was never anything
less than polite to me. I am truly sorry to hear of his fate and I will pray
for his soul.”

Paris’ jaw began ticking again. “If
you must pray, madam, pray for him to live. Pray that he lives to see his son.”

With an uncertain nod, she was gone.
Paris, suddenly feeling very tired, turned back to the carriage. All that was
needed was a fine team of horses. Ah, yes, he thought, forcing his fears down,
I know of just the team.

To keep his mind occupied, he went
on to select the steeds.

By dawn, the carriage was ready with
an escort of fifty heavily armed men. After saying good-bye to his tearful
wife, Kieran went to Jordan’s chambers to retrieve her. Paris was there,
sitting grimly at the foot of Jordan’s bed while she cinched up her smallest
traveling bag.

Paris was not a happy man, but he
had resigned himself to the inevitable. Kieran, not happy either, waited
politely until Jordan was finished.

“There,” she turned to her husband’s
second in command. “Ye can take that bag and put it in the carriage with me.”

Kieran nodded, picking up the bag. “Are
you ready, Jordan?”

“Aye,” she replied, then passed a
glance at Paris. “Wait for me in the bailey, please? Paris will bring me out.”

Kieran left with the bag, leaving
Jordan alone with Paris again. When the room was empty, Jordan eyed the captain
of the troops, knowing how guilty he was feeling.

“Paris,” she said softly. “I am
sorry ye canna go with me. I wish ye could.”

“So do I,” he replied, looking up at
her. “I would give anything to see William again and to keep you from harm, as
I promised him.”

She smiled, moving close to him. Her
huge belly was in between them, brushing against his arm.

“Kieran will take good care of me,”
she said softly. “Paris, there aren’t words enough to thank ye for what ye have
done. Ye have been my very best friend for the past few months and I am going
to miss ye.”

As he looked back at her, he realized
just how much he was going to miss her as well. He had become so accustom to
being with her constantly that he was already beginning to feel a little lost.
He reached out and took her soft white hand.

“I will miss you, too,” he was
embarrassed that his voice sounded tight.

She put her hand on his blond head. “We
share a common bond, Paris. We both love him with all our hearts. I shall send
word to ye as soon as I can.”

He nodded, staring down at her hand
and caressing it absently. He was afraid if he looked her in the eye he would
start bawling like a babe.