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Kieran looked at him, a brief flash of pain in his eyes that was as quickly gone. “There will be more children, I am sure,” he said softly. “ ’Twas God’s will that this child should die, I suppose, but I am eager to see Jemma. I am crushed to think of her going through such a tragedy alone.”

William nodded somberly. “I could not imagine not being at Jordan’s side when she delivered. To be apart from your wife is bad enough, but to have something like this happen….” He shook his head, unable to continue.

Kieran shifted on his big legs, trying to fight off the grief William had inadvertently brought up. He’d had a devil of a time coming to terms with the death of the baby, and the fact that he had not been there, which was why he had slept so little. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Jemma in the throes of childbirth, only to deliver a dead child. It tore at him like nothing he had ever experienced.

“I suppose she will beat me for not having been at her side,” he mused darkly.

“I suppose.”

Kieran kicked at the dirt. “In faith, she has a temper the likes of which I have never seen equaled, but there is a much softer side to her that most never see,” he said softly, thinking of his raven-haired wife. “She has a good heart and she is very loving. Even though she pretends otherwise, she is fiercely loyal to Northwood and the knights. Even Paris. She does like him, although he irks her.”

William grinned. “And she irks him. God, those two are a pair.”

Kieran’s smile faded just a bit. “ ’Twas probably he who comforted her after.…”

William wanted off the subject. He was missing Jordan and the twins dreadfully, more so now.

“What have you decided to name the boys?” Kieran asked, a little brighter.

William grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “My wife decided to name them Scott and Troy, after her family name and after Paris. I had no choice in the matter.”

“Scott and Troy,” Kieran repeated. “They are strong names. Aye, I like them very much. If you have a daughter will you call her Helena?”

“Not likely,” William snorted. “I will name my daughter what I want, whether or not my wife likes it.”

Kieran leaned back against the tree, grunting when his armor dug into him. “Sure you will, William.”

William made a wry face, conceding the point. The man could command over a thousand men with complete control, yet he was spineless in the presence of one small, lovely female. She was the true power behind the strength of The Wolf.

An hour later, they roused their men, eager to get on to Northwood.

*

It was unlike anything they had ever seen.

It all started with trails of smoke on the horizon, lifting above the trees into the early morning air. Knowing the smoke was coming from the direction of Northwood, William grew concerned and began to push the army faster. Knights slung shields over their left knee for easy access and swords were at the ready. They were prepared for a battle, prepared to jump into the fracas even after a week of heavy travel. This was what they had come for.

The smoke grew heavier the closer they drew. Scouts were sent out to make contact with the castle. By the time they passed through a series of dense trees, the full view of Northwood came into view and it was more than they could have imagined. It looked as if the castle was being overrun, even at this early hour; smoke billowed from the structure and the gatehouse looked as if it had been breached. It was crawling with men, but from their distance they couldn’t quiet tell who, exactly, it was. The closer they came, however, the more evident it became.

They met the Scots full bore, plunging into their lines like crazed men, eager to retrieve what was rightfully England’s. Metal met metal and metal met flesh. There was no stopping what had come, and there was no stopping The Wolf.

Paris was on the inner wall of Northwood. He saw the incoming army, hoping beyond hope it was reinforcements from London. When the banners were released and he caught the king’s signature, he was filled with joy and relief. All of his desperate prayers had been answered.

The Scots had breached the outer bailey and the majority of the fighting from that point had been to prevent them any further advancement. All of the outbuildings had been destroyed or badly damaged, and any passages that connected the outer to the inner wall had been destroyed or rendered fairly useless by Northwood’s troops.

But the battle had been hellish for Northwood; not being able to accompany the allied armies to Scotland had been a blow even though it had been expected. Beverley’s army even took to marching past Northwood on their way to the battle, simply to show Alexander that at least one army was loyal to the crown. And to William. There had been no doubt of that message, either.

Which was why Paris’ heart twisted at the sight of the king’s army. He knew Kieran was with them, as was Deinwald. But they were flying a banner he had not seen and assumed it was the colors of the new king’s champion. He didn’t recognize it. His heart ached to know how Jordan was faring. With William presumably dead, he would marry her and claim the babe for his own. If William could not take care of her, then he would. It had taken him a whole hour to come to that decision.

There had been a slight pause in the battle when the king’s army charged like a raging bull, plowing head-on into the line of Scots that had hastily assembled. The Scots in the outer bailey had filed outside of the walls to meet the challenge, giving Northwood’s army inside a bit of reprieve.

Paris and William Payton-Forrester had fought side-by-side for several days and now stood looking at the king’s army as if they were eyeing a Christmas feast. Captain Brockenhurst of Deauxville Mount joined them, wiping away blood from a fresh cut to his neck. He was a tall, wiry man who could fight like the devil. He flipped up his visor to get a better look at the king’s troops.

“By damn,” he muttered. “If that isn’t a welcome sight.”

Payton-Forrester grinned, slapping the man on his armor. “Old Henry came through after all. Looks like the whole damned of England is here to fight.”

“Aye,” Paris nodded, his eyes glued to the fight below. “Can either of you see Kieran or Deinwald?”