Page 198

She smiled at him. “I am not keeping score.”

She was so weak with relief she could do no more than gaze upon him, touching him with loving hands. He lay still, feeling her touch, so tired he thought he could sleep for a hundred years but not wanting to miss a moment of her presence.

“Kieran?” Jordan called out. When William opened his eye and looked at her, she smiled happily. “I shall feed ye myself until ye are strong again.”

He nodded imperceptibly. “Better cover your magnificent breasts before Kieran forgets himself and I have to beat him down,” he whispered. “Which reminds me; I must speak with him.”

She giggled and pulled the covers up around her chest just in the nick of time. Both Kieran and Deinwald came barreling through the door, slamming it back on its hinges. Jordan could see from the looks on their faces that they thought the worst had come.

“Come here, Kieran,” Jordan said.

His face gray with terror, he obeyed, gazing down at William’s face. He was so still that Kieran feared the worst. Tears sprang to his eyes as he leaned over William’s form helplessly, not knowing what to say or do.

“My lady…,” he began in a husky voice.

A hand suddenly shot out and grabbed him by the tunic. Kieran nearly passed out from sheer shock, grabbing William’s wrist as if the action would prevent him from falling to the floor. His expression was wide with astonishment as William opened his eye and tugged him down so that he could speak to him.

“William!” he gasped.

Sick and exhausted, William still had the ability to intimidate with the simple lift of a brow. “What in the hell is the matter with you that you would bring my very pregnant wife to London all the way from Northwood?” he rumbled. “Have you gone daft?”

Kieran was nearly ill with relief. “She said she would walk if I didn’t bring her,” he smiled weakly. “I damn near had to pull her off of Paris when he denied her.”

“Paris? Where is he?” William whispered.

“At Northwood,” Kieran replied quietly, hoping William did not pick up on the tone in his voice. “He could not come.”

William’s eye closed and his hand dropped from Kieran’s tunic. “When I am well I am going to kick you right in the arse,” he whispered. “My wife’s condition is most delicate and I do not wish my son born on the road. You were foolish to let her bully you.”

“He couldna have stopped me,” Jordan said indignantly. “Ye needed me, English, and I was going to come. Now, stop talking. Kieran, my husband is hungry. Go fetch him some broth and tell Byron that William is in need of some of his healing herbs.”

Kieran smiled broadly at her. “Aye, my lady,” he saluted his lord sharply and left the room.

Deinwald stood by the door, his expression soft. Jordan had never seen that look on his face. He actually looked as if he might cry.

“He is fine, Deinwald,” she assured him. “He will be just fine. Why dunna ye go and get some sleep now?”

Deinwald moved his mouth as if to speak but ended up clearing his throat. With a curt nod, he quit the room as well and closed the door softly behind him.

She gazed down at him again. “He was the most worried, I think.”

William didn’t reply; he was nearly asleep. With a sigh, Jordan pressed up against him, feeling his hand caress her softly on the small of her back. She kissed his shoulder, gazing up at the ceiling and thinking that everything was indeed going to be alright.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Two weeks later William was feeling nearly tip-top. He had been eating well and rebuilding his strength with daily sword practice, working himself into exhaustion as his wife watched vigilantly. But there was another reason for the sword play as well; now that he only had sight from one eye, he had to adjust his skill with the blade. He had lost a good deal of depth perception with the partial loss of sight and had to become accustom to it. It had not been difficult for him; it was simply a matter of relying on other senses and realizing his depth perception was diminished.

With the help of Kieran and Deinwald, he learned to trust his hearing almost as much as his sight. He would practice with them both at the same time, simulating fierce battle situations and drilled himself for up to fifteen hours a day, learning to depend more on his sense of hearing than his eyesight. Even his sixth sense, the intuition that had served him well, became an integral part of his fighting.

There were a few times when he took decent blows, drawing blood, but still he would not give up. He took it as a personal challenge and he was not about to give in to self-pity. With Jordan watching every move he made in rain or shine, he would not disappoint her. Her faith drove him on.

Henry had taken a special interest in William’s recovery, feeling quite responsible for what had happened to the man. He spent a good deal of time watching his champion practice, debating whether or not William would still be his champion now with his handicap. But by the end of the second week he was immensely pleased to see that indeed, he still had a champion in the baron. The man was positively unstoppable.

And because of his respect and gratitude for William’s service, he would not punish the man for lying to him. When Lady de Longley, or more correctly, Lady de Wolfe, had hastily explained the situation on the eve of what everyone was sure was William’s death, he had been stunned. His shock quickly turned to anger, an anger he found focusing on the deceased earl. After all, John knew better than to foil the king, but he had done it anyway. Lady de Wolfe had said that the earl hadn’t wanted her, which Henry found hard to believe, and therefore sanctioned the marriage between her and William.

Henry could chuckle over it now, the very pregnant woman with her hands on her hips, enlightening him to the truth. She was in London to see her dying husband, and the king would know the truth of the matter since neither the earl nor the king’s champion had seen it fit to tell him. And she had been right when she said it was better this way, for being married to the intended Warden of the North Border was as good as being married to the Earl of Teviot. Now, with John gone, she still held position and power, and cemented a tight alliance.

Ah, well, his children were becoming disobedient in his old age. But he would let this event slide unnoticed for the sake of his champion and his lovely Scot wife. The true person to blame was de Longley, but he was dead and his stupid son now held the titles and the power. Henry was certainly not happy over that, but Castle Questing would now be the jewel in the crown of the border with William at the helm. Northwood, and all of her might, would simply have to be controlled. If need be, he would have William take Alexander down and then the younger, more level-headed son would ascend the power. He thought more and more on that every day.