Page 256

Jordan shook her head. “Why, Da? Why is this man so determined to destroy us?”

Thomas sighed. “Oh, Jordan, it’s an old tale,” he said wearily. “Dunbar doesna have one specific reasons. Sure, he says he wants to control the border, but what he most desires is wealth. He’s never had any to speak of. And he keeps changing his mind as to how he wants to get it. First, he wanted ye and Abner pledged to get his hands on Scott money. Then, it was the border scheme. With him, ’tis always something. Which is why yer mother never married him.”

Jordan looked at him, stunned. “Mother? Marry Dunbar McKenna?”

“Oh, he wanted her badly, I can tell ye,” Thomas nodded firmly. “Pursued Elinor, wooed her, but she saw him for what he was. And then I married her and Dunbar was forever jealous of me. I shudder to think what he would have done to ye if ye had married Abner. He lusted for Elinor something fierce.”

Jordan shook her head. “I never knew that,” she said faintly.

Thomas shrugged. “There was never any reason for ye to.”

They left the graves and wandered back into the crumbled fortress.

“Ye ladies will gather yer things,” Thomas said finally. “Ye leave for England today.”

Jordan and Jemma looked at him, shocked. “But…da!” Jordan whined. “We only just got here.”

“And ye shouldna have come, ye little scamps.” Thomas scolded, like he did when she was five years old. “I am therefore taking ye back home myself.”

Jordan’s eyes were wide. “No, Da. Ye canna!”

“Aye, I can and I am going to.” he said curtly. “Now, get what ye brought with ye and I shall go saddle the horses.”

They tried to protest further but he waved them off abruptly and donned a heavy, dirty surcoat. Jordan recognized it; it had once belonged to her Uncle Nathaniel. ’Twas probably the only clothes her father had left. But it was warm and offered protection as he marched out into the bailey were the horses were tethered in a small sheltered corral.

“What do we do?” Jemma demanded when he had left.

She turned to her cousin helplessly. “Go home, as he says,” she said. “We found out all that we could, Jemma. Mayhap we can convince da to stay at Northwood for a while.”

“But what of Callie and my Da?” Jemma insisted. “He says they are still alive and I wunna leave them.”

“What are ye going to do, Jemma?” Jordan asked sharply. “Go after them yerself? Ye can do nothing against the clans alone. We will have to rely on William and the knights to figure out a plan. We have to trust them.”

Jemma looked upset, but resigned. The women had naught else but the clothes on their backs when they came, and they tucked their hair into their caps and left Langton with a kiss and a promise to return, one day.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Jordan rode with her father atop the brown thoroughbred. She felt like a little girl again, holding him around his waist and watching the landscape roll by. Thomas kept up a steady stream of talk and she was relieved to hear her father’s true self returning rapidly. Until this point, he had seemed somewhat distant to her. But, once again, Thomas was becoming the lively Scot and both women felt a sense of normalcy returning. The more he talked, the easier he became.

The weather was cool for summer, but it was clear and bright as they trotted over the soft hills that were sloping toward the barren moors of the border. The last time she came south on this road, it had been with William.

Her heart jumped at that thought, she wondered if his anger would ease to find her returning on her own. And she furthermore hoped that he would help her convince her father to return to England with them for a stay. She hated the thought of him rotting away in the shell of her former home, alone.

At noon, they rested the horses and picked some wild blackberries for their meal. Thomas even managed to find an apple tree with some new apples on it, fruit that sat amazingly well in Jemma’s turbulent stomach. As they lounged beneath the sparse shade of a small Scot pine, Jordan began to feel as if she were a young girl again, listening to her father talk as if they had all the time in the world. She missed those simple times terribly, but in the same breath she was immensely grateful for her life as it was. It was far better than she had ever dreamed, even as a young lass. She had married a man upon which dreams were made.

They were back on the road heading for Carter Bar. Thomas began to feel safer and safer with each passing mile, putting more and more distance between his daughter and the clans. He tried not to think on it, focusing instead on his grandsons that he would soon see and wishing his sweet Elinor were alive to experience the joy. He patted his daughter’s arms as they wrapped around his waist, happy beyond words to be together again. He honestly thought he might never see her again when she left for England and was thankful his fears had been for naught. His show of faith had caused a turn in his life that he had never imagined; good and bad.

The landscape was green, but barren of many trees or shrubs. This was the border, and the moors that encompassed it. How many wars had he fought on this soil? He shook his head; there had been too many to count. He could still see the dead; recognizing tartan. He could smell the stench of death and see the English; well-organized and lethal as they cut down his kin. And he could see The Wolf at the head of it, but he wasn’t bitter. After all, the man had married his daughter and brought more happiness to her than Thomas could have hoped for. For that reason alone, he would forget the scourge of The Wolf.

The three of them were focused on the southern horizon, not taking any particular note of their surroundings. Behind them to the northwest small dots appeared on the hills, coming toward them. Unnoticed, the dots multiplied in number and soon grew into distinct human figures on horseback. They zeroed in on Thomas and the women, weaving their way toward them at a rapid, steady pace.

Thomas, Jordan and Jemma were oblivious to the approaching wave, chatting softly about Jordan’s wedding to William. They were so oblivious to their surroundings that it was too late to do anything by the time they heard the flurry of hoof beats.

Thomas heard it first and nearly panicked. He yanked on the reins and spurred the horse at the same time, confusing the animal into rearing up and pitching both him and his daughter onto the ground. Jemma, digging her heels into her horse, took off on the run of her life. Several Scots gave hot pursuit.

Jordan wasn’t hurt; just stunned. She rolled onto her hands and knees as dozens of horses halted excitedly around her, kicking dirt up into her face. She rose unsteadily, panicky, and stumbled over to her father as he picked himself up off the earth. They clutched at each other, their eyes wide and fearful at the host of riders that surrounded them.

Riders bearing McKenna tartan.