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“Aye, my lord,” William replied, meeting his king’s gaze.

“You know, you are somehow different to me,” Henry said as almost an afterthought. “ ’Tis not only the obvious, but something in your stance. Your manner. Has this injury affected you so?”

William shook his head, puzzled. “I know not what you mean, my lord.”

Henry rubbed his chin, leaning on his arm rest. “Mayhap I know not, either. The de Wolfe I brought with me from Northwood was pure warrior, the invincible champion. The de Wolfe I see before me has suddenly taken on dimension.”

“I hope for the better, sire,” William had no idea what the man was talking about.

“Absolutely,” the king nodded. “My God, man, you were formidable enough before. But now you seem… indestructible. Mayhap it is that eye patch that gives you such an imposing presence. Mayhap a wife and children has made you complete in your old age.”

William smiled faintly. “I will not dispute your wisdom in that, my lord.”

Henry stared at him a moment more before waving William off. “Ride hard, lad. You have a good deal of cleaning up to do. I would hear from you as soon as you arrive.”

“By your command, sire.”

*

He returned to Jordan later on that day after checking on the army he was to lead. Henry had ordered a three thousand man force, including eight wagons and a full company of mounted archers. It was damn near the biggest army William had ever seen. He knew the king was deadly serious about quelling the Scot resistance with this size of a force and wondered if it were because he felt guilty when he downplayed de Longley’s concerns. Obviously, the earl had been right.

William’s mind kept wandering to the conversation he’d had with the king and the strange comments the sovereign had made. He had used words like invincible, indestructible, complete… had his injury changed him? He shook his head; he knew not how except that he was stronger for it. He was still the same person he had always been, with the exception that he now had sons to care for; and a wife he was madly in love with.

He shook his head again in confusion. He would have to ask Jordan if there had been a noticeable change in his demeanor. She would tell him the truth.

He was crossing the small courtyard that led to the apartments where he was housed. He noticed three women several feet away, the same women that had been in Henry’s audience chamber. They smiled coyly at him and laughed amongst themselves as he drew closer, but he ignored them. He had seen the women before, several times since his arrival, but only recently had they sought his attention openly.

When he was only a few feet away, much to his distress, one of the women brazenly approached him.

“Baron Kilham,” she said with a sickly sweet voice. “We are so pleased to see you alive and well again.”

He stopped purely out of courtesy, even though he could feel his impatience rising. He had no time for these silly females.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Please call me Miranda,” she batted her eyelashes at him. “Lady Miranda le Londe. Mayhap you have heard of my father, Baron Rochedale?”

“Indeed I have,” William replied evenly, but he almost laughed aloud at her flirty gestures. She had above-average looks but was a far, far cry from his wife. Naturally, Jordan had become the standard by which he judged all beauty and he had yet to see a woman that even came close.

A busty brunette thrust herself forward, her dress so low cut that he could see the areolas of her nipples. “And I am Lady Vanessa Moresby, niece to the king’s master chamberlain,” she said, giving him what he was sure was her best smile. “We heard of your grave wound. God be praised that you have regained your health.”

“My lady,” he greeted with a slight bow, discreetly taking a step back to put some distance between them. He was uncomfortable with their proximity.

The third woman, a tall young beauty, would not be left out. “My lord,” she curtsied. She seemed to be not as bold as the others. “I am Lady Charlotte Kincaid, ward of our king and heiress to Southollow Keep, near Essex.”

William bowed to her politely as well. Now that they’d had a chance to introduce themselves, he believed the time to excuse himself was ripe. He bowed again and took another step back only to be enveloped by Lady Miranda and Lady Vanessa. The women attached their hands to his massive arms and clung to him like leeches, talking rapidly and interrupting each other in the haste to make themselves heard. His patience was quickly gone.

“My lord, you must tell us of your campaigns in Wales,” Lady Miranda said dramatically. “We heard such horrifying tales.”

“Ladies, truly, I have no time to indulge you,” he said firmly but politely, trying to pull his arms free without much success. “Mayhap another time.”

“Is it true they call you The Wolf?” Vanessa was clinging persistently to him. “We have heard tale of your battle prowess here in London. They say you have no weaknesses and that men run at the simple mention of your name.”

He scowled in disbelief, trying to pull his arm free of Miranda’s insistent grip. When he opened his mouth to answer her ridiculous statement, soft, cool hands grasped his own and he saw that Charlotte was on the offensive.

“Vanessa, surely Sir William does not wish to speak of his reputation,” she admonished lightly, staring up at him dreamily. “We have all heard the rumors of the mighty Wolf and king’s champion. ’Tis no secret that he is the greatest warrior in all of England.”

Oh, God, William thought. There was nothing worse than starry-eyed, romantic females. He was sure that they were not intending to be a nuisance, but that was exactly what they had become, and he had hundreds of other things that required his attention. He was not a courtier, nor a diplomat, and he hoped he could end this little encounter without hurting any feelings; although at this point he didn’t care if he did or not.