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“Aye,” he answered, thinking of the empty hulk of Langton. He still had yet to tell her what he had found.

Jordan slid off the destrier, looking about her with awed horror. The tanner’s shop and the cobbler; everything was gone. She remembered how nice they had been to her and she was absolutely devastated.

“Where is the tanner? And the blacksmith?” she turned to her husband, demanding answers. “What happened to them?”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “I just do not know, love. Things were still chaotic when I left for London.”

They heard screaming. Jordan’s head snapped in the direction of the castle to see Jemma barreling through the inner gates toward her. She yelled something in Gaelic and Jordan laughed in delight.

“What did she say?” William demanded with a smile.

“She wants to know where my little devils are,” his wife replied.

Kieran was closer to his wife than Jordan and was the recipient of a flying tackle. He grunted with the force of the small woman and staggered back a step, hugging her fiercely to him. She smacked him on the side of the helmet, scolding him in Gaelic for not removing it so she could kiss him. Although he had no idea what she had said, intuitively he set her on her feet and removed his helm. With a grin, he proceeded to kiss her so deeply that the other knights applauded with approval. Jordan just smiled.

When Jemma had caught her breath, she pulled herself from her husband’s arms and immediately raced to her cousin. The women came together in a clash of material and squeals, babbling in Gaelic and no one could understand a word they were saying.

“Kieran, we must learn Gaelic,” William commented to his second. “For all we know, they are plotting to escape us.”

Kieran wiggled his brows. “Mayhap it is better if we do not. If we learn their native tongue, they’ll be able to order us about in two languages. I prefer to remain ignorant.”

“Where are those bairns, Jordan?” Jemma finally demanded in English, well aware of her husband’s remark.

Jordan took her hand and led her back to the carriage. Jemma accepted the first twin, Scott, as if he were made of solid gold. She alternately fawned over one and then the other, declaring them to be perfect. Kieran and William had come up behind them, William eyeing his second to see if there was any particular emotion watching his wife cradle a babe. There was none.

“And look at the beautiful dark-haired bairn that ye have.” Jemma exclaimed. “Is this the one ye named for my nemesis? Why on earth, Jordi, did ye saddle the babe with a namesake like him?”

Paris pulled off his helmet and scowled at Jemma, as was usual. “The child is most fortunate, banshee, and never forget it.”

Jemma thrust up her chin at him arrogantly, but not before he caught a glimpse of a smile. “Come, Jordan, let’s take the bairns inside. ’Tis cold out here.”

The babies were overwrapped like a Christmas goose, obviously not feeling the elements, but Jordan heartily agreed. Jordan, Jemma, Byron, and the wet nurse crossed back through the outer bailey and into the castle, leaving the knights to attend their duties.

Jordan insisted on sleeping in the apartments she had originally occupied when she had first come to Northwood. She wanted nothing to do with the apartments the earl had given her after their ‘wedding’, even though they were more spacious. Kieran and Jemma now occupied them.

With the twins safely tucked away in the smaller bedchamber for the night, Jordan’s fatigue had caught up with her and she yawned sleepily as she crossed the adjoining antechamber and into the bower she shared with her husband. She had noticed earlier that there was a different bed filling the room and the vanity was missing, but she didn’t linger on it. She was simply glad to be back, feeling content and warm and delighted with her life. There was nothing more in this world she could possibly want or need for.

The kitten Mary Alys had given her so long ago was now a full grown fat white cat. The cat had claimed this room as his own and awaited his mistress from his comfortable spot atop William’s pillow. Jordan smiled at the animal and scratched his ears, bringing forth rumbles of purring.

“Ye had better remove yer fat body, George,” she told the tom. “Or William will be having cat stew for his morning meal.”

The cat purred louder, dashing her apprehension that the animal would not remember her. George was a loyal as her knights.

She climbed under the covers, fully intending to wait for William to join her, but drifted off to sleep before her head even hit the pillow. George, not to be left out, moved to her and curled up against her arms.

When William came to bed several hours later and found the cat cuddled against his wife, he put his hands on his hips.

“George, you will remove yourself,” he whispered severely. The cat yawned, looked up at him and began to purr loudly. He made a wry face.

“Do not try to sweet-talk me, you hairy little rodent,” he pointed at the door. “Go.”

The feline stretched and amazingly, rose. Satisfied the cat was doing as it had been ordered, he proceeded to remove all of his clothing. However, when he turned around he saw that the cat had taken up position on his pillow. He frowned.

“Damn cat,” he hissed.

“English, quit fighting with George and just come to bed,” Jordan said, her voice muffled into the bedclothes.

He obeyed, but he slid into bed on the opposite side of his wife and shoved her over against the cat. She didn’t protest, grinning as George stood indignantly at being shuffled and then tried to lie back down on her face. William saw the animal’s intention and reached over Jordan to shove the cat clear off the bed.