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William lifted his head and the two of them were seized with terror when they saw the tears until Kieran realized his liege was laughing. He smiled, puzzled.

“What in the hell is so funny that your wife is hanging off the bed?” Kieran asked.

William had to catch his breath before, haltingly, he told them of what had transpired at dinner with his brother and his wife. Jordan was so weak she could not even join in the tale and listening to her husband repeat it brought frail giggles again. By the time William was finished, both Jemma and Kieran were far gone with convulsions of mirth.

Jordan had regained enough of her control to climb back into bed beside her husband as Jemma and Kieran laughed at Giselle’s expense.

“My God, Jordan, how did ye keep a straight face with her asking ye all those questions?” Jemma demanded.

Jordan sagged against the pillows. “Oh, lord, it wasna easy,” she admitted. “My face hurts. My stomach hurts.”

William sagged next to her, thoroughly weakened from his fits. “Mine, too,” he said. Then he flicked a hand at Kieran. “Get out of here, both of you, and quit harassing us. We leave come the dawn.”

Kieran, still giggling, obeyed silently by pulling his wife to him and ushering her from the room. William watched them go, a smile still playing on his lips, and was seized with the urge to make love to his wife again.

He turned to her, his arm reaching out to suddenly stop in mid-air when he saw, predictably, that she had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Deinwald and Aloria were two lovebirds the entire ride back to Northwood. Neither one would let the other out of their sight, and Jordan thought it was sweet while her husband merely shook his head. Deinwald actually left Jemma alone and Jordan thought her cousin looked a little lonely without all of the attention.

The return trip was fast. They traveled quickly, without all of the excess military baggage, and made excellent time back to Northwood. William had brought with him six knights, all men that had fought with him in Wales and men he trusted. Four would stay at Northwood as a replacement for the knights that were going with him to Questing, and the remaining two would accompany him. Sir Henry Ethelredson and Sir Philip de Jonet were proud and pleased to be devoting their service to The Wolf.

On the last day of the ride, Jordan’s stomach was troubling her greatly and the party had to stop frequently to allow her some relief. They were drawing near to Northwood toward late afternoon when Jordan asked William to stop again. It was the eighth time for the day, but he neither questioned her nor hesitated. Raising his hand and reining his destrier to a halt, he lowered his wife to the ground and followed her into a bank of trees.

Jordan hadn’t been sick her entire pregnancy and was distressed that the symptom had decided to rear its ugly head now. She knew everyone was eager to reach Northwood and she felt guilty that she was feeling so rotten.

Much to her relief, there was a small stream in amongst the trees and she knelt down, plunging her hands into the cool water. The day was warm and humid and only added to her discomfort, even though she wore the dress of gauzy linen that was very cool. Her husband removed his helmet, eyeing her as he swabbed at his brow.

“Too damn hot,” he muttered. It was the first time she had ever heard him complain about his personal comfort. “I shall be glad to see the boys again. I bet they’ve grown an inch since we’ve been gone.”

“We’ve only been gone three weeks,” Jordan reminded him, standing up. “I need a moment of privacy.”

She walked into the woods and he watched her, waiting patiently for her to finish her business and hoping she felt better come the morrow. He hated to see her ill. When she finally emerged from the trees, he noticed her face to be a bit paler than normal and attributed it to the fact that she probably just vomited up her nooning meal.

“Better, love?” he asked her with a smile.

She looked at him and he was concerned to note that her face was almost gray. “We’d better get back as soon as we can, English,” she said dully. “I fear…I fear something is wrong.”

He studied her face intently, a slow horror gripping him. “What is wrong?”

Her eyes met his. “I have got…I mean, there is some blood,” she lowered her voice. “We’d better get back.”

He went cold. “Oh, God. Is there a lot? Are you in pain?”

“No pain,” she assured him. “But my stomach does hurt and I am terribly tired.”

He swept her into his arms without another word, so horribly frightened and concerned he started to shake. God, if something happened to her or to the baby…he swallowed hard, praying harder than he ever had. When things were going so well, why this? He found himself angry at God, but he was praying for help, all at the same time.

The last leg of the trip was slower for William did not want to jostle his wife. He blamed himself for her condition. He could have prevented her from the hard trip to London but he didn’t simply because he wanted her with him. Selfish, of course, so all of this was entirely his fault.

If something happened…oh, God, if something happened he prayed his wife could forgive him. He prayed he could forgive himself. His wife and his children, born or unborn, were everything to him. This new babe was barely four months old in her mother’s belly and had already been through hell. With Jordan’s kidnap, the ensuing battle, and now a lengthy trip, it was a wonder the babe had survived at all. Until this moment.

Northwood’s turrets loomed ahead shortly after dusk and relief swelled his chest. Jordan had long since fallen asleep in his arms when he motioned Deinwald to him.

“Ride ahead and summon Byron to my chambers immediately,” he said softly. Deinwald deposited Aloria with one of the other knights and was gone.

Kieran rode up next to William, Jemma fast asleep in his huge arms and looking like a small child.