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“Soon,” she insisted. “I must see him. Please?”
“I cannot promise you anything, love,” he told her firmly. “At least not until I am sure the Scots have disbanded.”
Jordan lay against him, grinding her jaw. She didn’t like being denied a visit to her father when it was so important to her. She thought she knew the clans well enough to know that if they were going to launch another attack, they would have done so by now.
And Caladora; what of Caladora? Her sweet, gentle cousin held captive by raging clans tore at her heart. Sweet Jesu,’ what had happened to her and to Uncle Matthew and her male cousins who had pursued her? Her mind was swirling, thoughts upon thoughts, for there were just too many unanswered questions. Questions she must find answers for, for her own peace of mind.
“Will ye take me back to Langton yerself?” she asked after a moment.
“When I allow you to go, of course,” he replied. “No other would escort my wife but me.”
And that would not be for some time, according to him. She could not wait that long.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Days passed into one another and became weeks. The only troops left at Northwood were her own soldiers and the king’s army. Brockenhurst had long since left for Deauxville Mount and Northwood was slowly but surely regaining her strength.
Jordan had said very little about Langton since the night William had informed her of its fate, but it was all Jemma could talk of. She spoke so much on the subject that Jordan was growing quite weary and snappish with her.
But Jordan was not speaking of Langton, not because it hadn’t been on her mind. In fact, she had thought of little else. She was going back to see her father and her husband be damned, but she could not seem to formulate a foolproof plan. She wasn’t that devious. But listening to Jemma rattle on, she realized who indeed was the cunning and sly female in her family. If she was going to Langton, then she needed her cousin’s help. She could not do it alone.
When the two of them were alone one night, she bluntly told Jemma of her intentions and demanded she help her. Jemma, elated, not only agreed to help her but insisted she come along. After all, Langton was her home, too, and she would know what became of her father and brothers. Jordan worried about disobeying William and provoking his wrath, but Jemma wasn’t even concerned about it. She knew William would never punish Jordan, just as Kieran would never lay a hand on her, either. If their husbands would not take them home, then they would be forced to go themselves.
They made plans, stole peasant clothes and packed for the trip, all the while pretending the situation was entirely normal. But every time Jordan gazed into William’s trusting eyes, she felt extremely guilty and deceitful. She rationalized her actions by blaming him for no reason, and somehow it made her feel a little better.
She was going home. Yet, in the middle of all of her and Jemma’s secrecy, there were some wonderful changes going on.
Scott and Troy were sitting up now, strong little pups that they were. She fell in love with her sons anew every time she looked at them, fed them, and bathed them. They, and William, were her whole life, but she had to return to Langton to satisfy a hollowness in her. All she wanted to do was see her da, hug him, and tell him that she loved him. That was truly the entire purpose, along with learning Caladora’s fate. William obviously didn’t understand the need.
Mary Alys had become an integral part of Jemma and Kieran’s lives. Their world revolved around the little girl, who had blossomed from a shy little thing into a sweet, beautiful girl. Jemma kept her dressed in the finest frocks and doted on her endlessly. Kieran would take the child with him everywhere, even to the training field when the knights would practice. Mary Alys would perch herself on the fence and cheer for her father and the other knights, dispensing kisses to the victors of contests.
William was constantly amazed that his hard, focused, professional knights, men he had known and trained for years, had suddenly turned into soft human beings since the birth of his sons and the addition of Mary Alys. They obviously adored the children.
It was July and the weather was warm and surprisingly dry. It was in the middle of the month when Jordan discovered that once again, she was breeding. With the twins barely four months old, she wasn’t particularly surprised. She and her husband’s appetite for each other had been insatiable and constant. She was excited to tell William.
She told him one evening after supper as they were walking along the nearly completed outer wall. He sat down on the edge of the parapet and pulled her between his legs, nuzzling her neck.
“The evening is warm,” she commented.
“As are my loins for you,” he purred.
She playfully batted at him. “Is that all ye think about, English? Ye’re like a rutting stallion sometimes.”
He nipped at her. “And you are my brood mare. Shall we mate?”
“William!” she gasped in exasperation, looking around to see if anyone was listening in.
“You are my wife and I may say anything I choose to you,” he insisted. “To hell with prying ears.”
She toyed with the ties at the top of his tunic. “What did ye call me? A brood mare?”
“In a manner of speaking, if I am to be a stallion,” he shrugged with a smile on his lips.
“Then you are suggesting that I am only good for breeding?” she pressed.
“I never said that,” he cocked a dark eyebrow. “You are good for a few other things, though I cannot think of any at the moment.”
She opened her mouth in outrage and he laughed, pulling her to him and kissing her swiftly. She put her arms around his neck, her face very close to his, smiling at him lovingly.
