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He nodded reluctantly, still touching his face.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Malcolm, Abner, Dougal and Tate skulked to the perimeter of the English encampment without any trouble at all. They took the time to case the entire camp, seeing where the guard was the weakest and were trying to determine just where The Wolf’s tent might be. It was agreed that most likely Jordan would not be in a tent of her own, and furthermore probably would be in his.
On the northeast perimeter, Abner and Tate slit the throats of two soldiers and dragged them into the forest. Abner took one of the dead men’s daggers before leaving the bodies. The four men dashed into the camp, staying low and diving for cover behind the first available tent. There was little activity, being as close to dawn as it was. Silently, they began to move for the larger of the tents situated in the middle of the camp.
*
Jordan was sleeping soundly but William was wide awake. He did not want to miss one minute of her softness and warmth in his arms, wondering how in the hell he was going to sleep alone again after this. ’Twas a terrible thing to be infatuated with his lord’s future wife.
He sighed miserably and she stirred, snuggling even closer in her sleep and making him all the more miserable. Her head was a half an inch from his mouth and he dared boldly to kiss her hair softly. He should not have done it, but he could not help himself. She was the sweetest thing he had ever experienced.
Sir Ranulf Kluge stuck his head into the tent. The oldest knight in William’s corps, he was thick and crusty and the best trainer of men in the realm.
“My lord?” he called softly.
William bolted from the bed, going to his knight. Jordan still slept limply, even with the jostling.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A moment, sire,” Ranulf beckoned him outside.
Jordan was alone, unaware of the mortal danger she was in. She slept even as the Scots skirted the edges of the tent, looking for a gap large enough between the ground and the staked edges that they could slip through. They wanted to make absolutely no noise or commotion, anything that would attract attention. The entire operation had to be noiseless and look as if one of the English had done it, and he would conveniently leave the dead soldier’s dagger as mute testimony.
There was a breach large enough that Tate could stick his head into. After a moment, he drew back excitedly and motioned to the tent. They had their target.
Tate and Dougal went in first, being the smallest. Malcolm followed, leaving Abner still outside.
The tent was dark except for the fading brazier in the middle of the floor lay Jordan, covered with furs and sleeping deeply. Malcolm took a deep breath, he did not want to slay her. Mayhap if he only kidnapped her, the point would still mean the same. Without Abner pushing him endlessly, Malcolm came to his own decision, he would take Jordan now. They would decide what to do with her later. He simply could not kill his own kin.
He pounced on her and she nearly jumped through the roof. His hand over her mouth, sealing off her screams, he put his face close to hers so that she would see who had her.
Jordan could not help but see who it was. Her eyes opened wide with surprise and fear at the sight of her cousin’s sweaty face. It never occurred to her that he had come to kill her, but she did believe he had come to bring her home.
She did not want to go home. She shook her head at him, her muffled cries managing to squeeze out from between his closed fingers.
“Be quiet.” Malcolm hissed into her ear. “Do ye want the whole of England to hear ye?”
She did, in fact, because she needed help. She did not want to get Malcolm into trouble, but she could not comply with his wishes.
Malcolm hauled her to her feet as she tripped over her bed robe, putting a dagger at her neck. Panic filled her veins as she wondered why Malcolm had a knife at her throat and it began to occur to her that Malcolm was not here to take her home. He was here to kill her.
Malcolm… the black sheep of the family. He had never fit in with the Scotts and he had never tried. He spent most of his time away from the keep doing God only knew what and had caused his parents great grief. He was strange and volatile. She realized that he was going against her father’s alliance with the English, and that he would do anything to sabotage it. Yet with all of her panic, she had to get control of herself if she were going to survive this. She had to remain calm and not allow Malcolm to suspect what was racing through her mind.
She put her shaky hand on his, hoping he would think she was going with his plan and take his hand away. Tate and Dougal, having taken a few of William’s possessions for keepsakes, began backing out of the break in the tent. Malcolm began to move, too, and in his distraction pulled his hand away from her mouth slightly.
It was all she needed.
“William!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
What happened next occurred with blinding speed. Abner, hearing her scream, used his dagger to slit open the entire side of the tent to create a quick exit for his men. William, several feet away from his tent listening to Ranulf and Corin, moved faster than anyone could ever remember seeing a mortal man move. He was into the tent like a dark shadow, his huge fists dropping Dougal where he stood and grabbing Malcolm around the neck in the same motion.
Malcolm released Jordan as William fell on top of him. Abner, panic-stricken that The Wolf was only a few short feet away and realizing that the entire camp was alerted now, took off at a dead run. Corin tore after him, running as only a young man can, while Ranulf felled Tate with a crushing blow to the jaw.
The warning horns went off all around the camp and the soldiers were up and moving, ready to take on the army of invaders they were sure were upon them.
Paris heard the horns and bolted from bed. Jemma, alarmed, watched his face fearfully as he pulled on his boots and strapped on his sword. He was grim and severe, not at all like the knight she had come to know over the past couple of hours. He looked deadly. He turned to her.
