Free The Wolfe by Kathryn Le Veque Page A

can
begin making preparations. And I shall be needing that tartan as soon as ye can
get yer hands on it,” he clapped Malcolm on one shoulder. “Yer a fine, loyal
Scot, lad. We canna have an English ally so close to us, can we? Aye, nor can
we have a weak Scot ally. Thomas Scott is not fit to be laird. But ye are.”
    Malcolm looked up at him with
puzzlement. Dunbar smiled.
    “Think on it, lad,” he said. “With
Thomas Scott gone, it would only be a matter of time before Nathaniel and
Matthew followed him in death. Then that would leave Benjamin, Donald and Cord
between ye and being laird of Clan Scott. Ye could easily take care of those
three foolish young lads.”
    “Kill them myself?” Malcolm echoed.
    “Aye, but kill is such an ugly word,”
Dunbar said. “I prefer eliminate myself. Or, if ye hasna the stomach for it,
then I am sure we could arrange to help ye out. Anything for an ally.”
    Malcolm’s head was spinning. What
Dunbar was suggesting was incredible. Slowly, he stood, only to be embraced by
the stinking man. Dunbar, in faith, was quite pleased with himself for throwing
young Malcolm a bone to chew on without revealing his true plans.
    “Be gone wi’ ye, lad,” he told him
firmly.
    Malcolm did go, still reeling, still
uncertain.
     
    ***
     
    It was later that night. The camp
fires glowed softly into the chill night, the faint crackling of wood and the
smell of smoke filling the air.
    William liked this time of night,
when most of the camp was asleep save for the sentries and a few servants. He
found he did his best thinking at night.
    And think this night he did until
his mind was a muddy bog. All he could see and hear was Lady Jordan. Lady
Jordan sleeping in his arms, Lady Jordan smiling at the creek, Lady Jordan telling
him flatly that she did not wish to eat. He thought of her until she
overwhelmed him, running his hands over his eyes as if he could wipe her from
his sight. Why did this woman infatuate him so?
    A body sat next to him over the
fallen log he was using as a chair, startling him from his thoughts.  Just by
the movements he knew it to be Paris.
    “Posts are set for the night, my
lord,” Paris said.
    “I know,” William replied. “I
checked them myself a half hour ago.”
    “Then pardon my incompetence,” Paris
said dryly. “I should have realized that The Wolf had already been on the
prowl.”
    “Cease your jibes, Paris, I have no
patience this night,” William said, talking into his folded hands.
    Paris regarded his captain with a
faint smile on his lips. He knew exactly what the problem was.  It had been
obvious all day.
    “What has that woman done to you?”
he asked with a slow shake of the head.
    William’s head came up and he looked
sharply at his friend. Paris fully expected to be reamed up one side and down
the other, but instead, William let out a sharp exhale and faced back to the fire.
    “Shut your mouth,” he said simply.
    Paris pursed his lips. “I do not
know how,” he said. “Tell me, William….what are you thinking?”
    William breathed deeply, not answering
for a moment. He seemed hypnotized by the flames of the bonfire in front of him. 
Paris didn’t think he was going to answer him until finally, quiet words began
to come forth.
    “When I was injured in the border
clash last year…do you remember?” he spoke hesitantly. “Do you recall that you
found me a few days later…?”
    Paris cut in with a nod of his head.
“Aye, I do. You were walking, delirious, with your leg nearly cut off. I
remember it as if it were yesterday. I thought we had lost you.”
    “Do you also recall that my leg was
tended, stitched up, and you asked me who did it?” William continued. “What did
I tell you?”
    Paris cocked an eyebrow. “You told
me an angel had come to save your life,” he said. “‘Twas all I could get out of
you.”
    William stared into the flames for a
moment. Then, slowly, he turned to look Paris in the eye.
    “That woman in my tent;