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“I was lonely for your ugly face,” Paris told him, then looked him over. “We received the messages from William. We were afraid we’d lost you there, old man.”

Kieran pulled back his collar to allow Paris a view of his most impressive scar. “Damn near cut my head off, the Welsh bastard,” he said. “I guess he was mad because I cut down twelve of his companions.”

“They deserved it, I am sure,” Paris said, indicating a chair for him to sit.

“You’d better sit, Kieran,” William told him. “There is a lot to say.”

Kieran looked at his lord. “What in the hell is the matter with you? You are white as a sheet.”

William laughed as Paris smiled smugly. “Let me be the first to congratulate you, Kieran.”

“For what?” the man wanted to know.

Paris returned to Northwood within a few days, leaving William and Kieran alone with their surprise. Both men were still a bit stunned at all of the news, but recovering nicely and most happily anticipating their sons.

Nearly a week later, the Earl of Hereford sent out a frantic call to the king for assistance. The Welsh border lords had overrun his border lands and mad Welsh marauders were wreaking havoc. Once again, William, Kieran, and Deinwald, along with forty other knights and nearly one thousand men set out for Hereford, hoping to make it in less than four days. By that time, however, there was no telling just what state they would find the earl’s keep in, or whether or not the man was even still alive. The problem there was that if the Welsh were indeed set on invasion, Gloucester was not far off. William decided to send reinforcements to Gloucester and Worcester just in case.

Another damn skirmish, William thought as he rode from Windsor. He wondered how long this was going to take, wondering if he would be able to slip away in time for the birth of his child. His heart simply was not in it; it hadn’t been since the day he left Northwood.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Jordan stood at her window, gazing out over the bleak winter landscape. Of all the seasons to be pregnant, she decided that winter had to be the worse. Everything was gray and cold, just like her mood. Snow had fallen the night before, but it was now so much dirty mush on the ground. As January moved close to February and the birth of her babe approached, she was growing more anxious by the second, knowing William had promised to come to her.

Jemma had been confined to her bed for the past week because of false contractions. Sylvie was afraid she would deliver early and didn’t want to take any chances. Jordan had spent a great deal of time with her miserable cousin, but she too was uncomfortable and miserable and could only take so much of Jemma’s complaining before it irritated her. Lately, she tried to limit her visits. Between Sylvie, Byron, Analiese and Aloria, Jemma was well taken care of.

There was a knock at her door, and Paris entered before she had a chance to respond. When she turned to see who it was, she beckoned to him.

“Paris, good,” she said. “Come here and rub my back. It pains me today.”

He sighed heavily. “Again? I spent three hours doing it yesterday and my hands have not yet recovered.”

“Shut yer yap and come here,” she snapped, taking his hands and placing them on her lower back. “Down there. Aye, that is good.”

He made a wry face as he rubbed her strained muscles through her surcoat, silently cursing William for saddling him with this duty. But he could see for himself how uncomfortable she was. She was absolutely massive, bigger than Jemma, easily. He wondered seriously if she carried more than one babe. He’d never seen a pregnant woman so large. In his opinion, it should be Jordan confined to a bed as well, but Sylvie said there was no need as long as she was feeling well.

He was rubbing firmly as requested when suddenly the trumpets atop the wall sounded, announcing incoming riders. Paris, concern furrowing his brow, went to the window to look. He could see for himself the band of tiny black dots in the distance.

Michael entered the room. “Paris, we have incoming.”

“I know,” Paris moved passed him. “Come on, man, let’s go see who it is.”

Jordan didn’t care who it was. ’Twas too early for William’s arrival, and from her new apartments she could not see the main gates or the outer bailey, so she sat down once again and resumed her embroidery on the small dressing gown Analiese had made for the baby.

She must have fallen asleep for when she awoke, Paris was entering her room. He had the strangest look on his face. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Paris?” she asked “Ye look queer.”

Truth was, Paris looked shocked. He took a few steps into the room and she immediately noticed that someone followed him.

It was Kieran.

Her mouth opened wide in delight. “Kieran. Where is William?”

Kieran smiled feebly. “My lady, you look ripe to bursting. As does your cousin. Have you been well?”

“I am fine,” she immediately noticed he had avoided her first question. Her initial delight was quickly cooling into something so dark and sinister she did not even want to think about it. “Kieran, where is William?”

“In London, my lady,” he replied softly, coming into the room. Paris closed the door and followed him.