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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 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 hotheaded 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 goodbyes, 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.