Page 254

He told his cousin of the situation, of the intentions of The Wolf, and told him exactly where they were going. He asked that Andrew mobilize his army and meet them at Langton to support their movements.

Roan was not personally rich, although his family was extremely wealthy and were powerful as heirs to St. Austell Castle in Cornwall. He could offer Andrew very little monetarily and hoped that the fact that their fathers were first cousins would hold some bearing. He hoped that blood was more valuable than money, although he doubted it. The man was in the business purely for the value of it, and he was one of the best damn swordsman Roan had ever seen.

Putting the vellum into a sack, he also stuffed in a banner he managed to confiscate bearing the king’s crest. He hoped Andrew would fly it as he approached so that William would not attack the man before Roan had a chance to explain what he had done.

Yet Andrew d’Vant was somewhat of a legend as well, for his army was huge and well-know and had fought all over the civilized world. His cousin’s nickname, the Red Fury, stemmed from the fact that the massive, towering man has auburn hair and fought with a demonic anger. He was sure William had heard of him and only hoped he didn’t sever his head from his body for acting out of the chain of command.

Why Roan was doing this was simple, really. Even with a thousand men, their army would not outnumber the clans, and Roan had no desire to die in Scotland. With the addition of his cousin’s army for support, ’twas a good chance that few English would die and mayhap the Scots, seeing the size of the quelling army, would forcibly disband.

He sent the messenger off to the southwest, headed for Andrew’s seldom-used keep. It was the only place he knew to begin looking for the man, and he prayed fervently that he could be found in time, and that the terms were agreeable.

*

Neither woman stopped to see the pure foolishness of their situation. Two women, alone, was bad enough. But two pregnant women, traveling alone, and at night, was insane. The situation was compounded by the fact the Jemma was feeling lousy and they’d already had to stop twice.

Finally, weary to the bone, they stopped the horses in a patch of trees that was particularly dense and shielding. Jemma fell asleep for about an hour while Jordan stood vigilant watch, and then Jordan took her turn resting while Jemma stood nervously in the dead leaves, jumping at any little sound.

Close to dawn Jordan awoke from a dreamless sleep and they ate some bread before continuing on. Their greatest fear was that William and Kieran were closing the gap that separated them and that they would not make it to Langton at all. They had married clever men with deductive minds and they had no doubt that William and Kieran had figured out where they were headed. So with renewed determination, they pushed on.

They rode the entire morning without stopping, an amazing achievement. A bit of cheese and fruit for the nooning meal, and they were off again. The horses performed beautifully and when they crossed the no man’s land of Carter Bar, they thrilled with the knowledge that they were almost home. Muted heather coated the soft hills and suddenly they realized just how much they missed their country. As much as they had grown to love England, Scotland was home.

Before sunset they passed into familiar territory. This was Langton land, and Jordan nearly got down from the horse to kiss the earth. The smells, the sights, were the same as she had always remembered and her heart was crying for her father. They were almost home.

Another hour passed before the burnt-out structure of Langton came into view. Destroyed or not, it was the most beautiful sight they had ever seen, and both women shed happy tears. Jordan was thrilled, and imagined how surprised her father would be to see her and they spurred the horses into the final stretch.

The wall was down, bricks strewn about, but there was a clear passage in and out of the courtyard. The bodies had long since been gone but the entire place felt like a ghost yard. Timidly, Jordan and Jemma dismounted, their eyes still drinking in the sight of their beloved home. But they had known what to expect and were beyond tears of grief. Still, the shock was unnerving and left them with a hollow feeling in their souls.

Jordan was the first to move forward through the rubble. The debris were time-worn, old, as if the elements had beaten them down until they had become a part of the landscaping. As her shapely legs in the snug black breeches picked their way through the field, she could only think that this was not her Langton. The sights, the smells, the atmosphere were not the same and she realized with stinging eyes that her Langton died in that attack months ago. This was a phantom, a grotesque effigy to what had once been.

As she approached the huge stone steps, a figure appeared in the doorway laden with a massive sword. Startled, she froze in her tracks with fear until recognition descended on her like a boom.

“Da!” she cried.

Thomas hadn’t recognized his daughter in the peasant clothing she was wearing and had come to defend his home against intruders, albeit two small ones. When he heard her voice, saw her face, his mind suddenly went blank and the sword clattered to the cold stone.

The next thing Jordan knew she was in his arms as he swung her off the ground, squeezing her until she could not breathe. Tears of absolute joy streamed down her cheeks as she hugged her father, easing a year of catastrophic pain and separation.

“Jordi!” he finally gasped, as if he had trouble believing what he was saying. “Jordan Mary Joseph Scott. What in the name of God are ye doing here?”

“I had to come,” she told him in between sniffles and gasps. “My husband told me what happened and I had to see for myself. I had to see ye.”

Thomas was shaking with shock and excitement as his green eyes raked his daughter’s face. “Did he bring ye here?” he demanded. “I told him it wasna safe for ye. Where is he?”

Jordan looked ashamed, shaken. “He dinna bring me. Jemma and I… we ran away. Neither one of our husbands would bring us, so we brought ourselves.”

“Ye did what?” Thomas boomed in disbelief, then looked for the first time to his niece a couple of feet away. “Jemma Scott! Ye little minx, ye had yer parents worried to death with yer disappearance. Cord told us where ye had gone but we found it hard to believe ye’d be so foolhardy.” He held out his arm to her and she fell into his embrace. “Oh, Jemma, I should take a strap to ye right here and now. I should take a strap to both of ye.”

“Dunna be angry,” Jordan pleaded. “We just wanted to come home.”

She started to cry again; both women were crying and Thomas hugged them close. Lord, he was so glad to see them again even if they were daft for coming.

“Ye came here alone? Just the two of ye?” he repeated quietly.

Jordan nodded. “But no doubt William and Kieran are close behind us.”

“Kieran? Who’s Kieran?” Thomas demanded.

“My husband, Uncle Thomas,” Jemma supplied.