her, correct?
No more than that, he told himself. He felt obliged to protect this woman
because she had undoubtedly saved his life, and, because he had been ordered
to.
…right?
Uncertainty flooded him. Good
God, man, is there more to this than you are allowing yourself to admit? he
demanded of himself . Impossible. He had no use for a woman, Scot or English.
He had not the time, nor the desire.
But there was one thing that tugged
at him persistently; he had met this woman a mere two times in his life and she
had left an indelible mark on him as if she had burned her presence into his very
soul. No one had ever done that. Aye; he would admit that fact and that one
alone.
As William wrestled with confusion, Jason
brought back the matching cloak to the dress she wore. Between the two of them,
they managed to cover her quite nicely. William’s horse, smelling the fox lining,
snorted and danced at the strange scent. He clucked to the animal and spoke
softly to it, and soon the warhorse calmed.
“And what, pray, do you think the
old lord is going to do with her, my lord?” Jason barged into his thoughts.
“Marry her,” William replied,
uninterested in his knight’s innuendos.
“Of course, but what is he going to do with her?” Jason was taking delight in his perverse thoughts. “He is fifty
years old. She will surely kill him with her vigor.”
William glanced impassively at his
young subordinate. Jason was usually mildly amusing, but not today. He sighed
and looked away.
“I have no time for this, Jason,” he
said shortly. “Send Paris to me.”
Jason, puzzled at William’s curt
reply, nonetheless went obediently to find Paris.
Paris de Norville was William’s right
hand. Tall, well-built, with a sensuous face and a crown of well-kept blond
hair, he was immediately at his captain’s side. He also knew William better
than anyone and could not recall ever seeing such an expression on the man’s
face. As he reined his horse close, he scrutinized William.
“My lord is taking a personal
interest in this treasure?” He nodded his head in Jordan’s direction.
He ignored the comment. “How is it
with the men?”
Paris looked off into the
spring-green countryside. “Rumbles, grumbles, innuendos. All that sort, but for
the most part they do not seem to care much about her.”
William nodded, absorbing the
information. “Just the same, Paris, if I am not with her, you will be. I will
take no chances with her welfare.”
Paris nodded. “Agreed, my lord,” he
replied, looking over at the figure sleeping beneath the cloak. “She is damn
beautiful for a Scot, is she not? No wonder her father was so protective.”
William did not dare look at his
friend; Paris knew him far too well and he was afraid that the man would read
the mass confusion he was feeling. Already, he could feel the man staring at
him.
“Aye,” he said simply.
The army continued until just after
dusk when William ordered a halt. Tents were pitched and fires started. They
were just inside the English border now and he was feeling a bit easier. His
mood was lighter as well. Tonight the men would dine on roast mutton.
Jordan awoke with a start when the
horse stopped. She hadn’t awoken the whole time William was barking orders and
he smiled at the humor of it.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped. “Where
am I?”
He held her tightly to keep her from
thrashing her way right off of the horse. “We are making camp, my lady, unless you
care to sleep on a moving horse all night,” he said.
She looked at him as recognition
dawned, realizing where she was. She ran a shaky hand across her brow.
“Nay, My lord, I wunna,” she
murmured. “I am quite anxious to get off this swaying beast.”
William dismounted the destrier and
held his arms up for her. Gratefully, wearily, she slid into them and he
lowered her gently to the ground. Their eyes met and Jordan experienced a
painful, unfamiliar jolt of excitement. She was positive he
No more than that, he told himself. He felt obliged to protect this woman
because she had undoubtedly saved his life, and, because he had been ordered
to.
…right?
Uncertainty flooded him. Good
God, man, is there more to this than you are allowing yourself to admit? he
demanded of himself . Impossible. He had no use for a woman, Scot or English.
He had not the time, nor the desire.
But there was one thing that tugged
at him persistently; he had met this woman a mere two times in his life and she
had left an indelible mark on him as if she had burned her presence into his very
soul. No one had ever done that. Aye; he would admit that fact and that one
alone.
As William wrestled with confusion, Jason
brought back the matching cloak to the dress she wore. Between the two of them,
they managed to cover her quite nicely. William’s horse, smelling the fox lining,
snorted and danced at the strange scent. He clucked to the animal and spoke
softly to it, and soon the warhorse calmed.
“And what, pray, do you think the
old lord is going to do with her, my lord?” Jason barged into his thoughts.
“Marry her,” William replied,
uninterested in his knight’s innuendos.
“Of course, but what is he going to do with her?” Jason was taking delight in his perverse thoughts. “He is fifty
years old. She will surely kill him with her vigor.”
William glanced impassively at his
young subordinate. Jason was usually mildly amusing, but not today. He sighed
and looked away.
“I have no time for this, Jason,” he
said shortly. “Send Paris to me.”
Jason, puzzled at William’s curt
reply, nonetheless went obediently to find Paris.
Paris de Norville was William’s right
hand. Tall, well-built, with a sensuous face and a crown of well-kept blond
hair, he was immediately at his captain’s side. He also knew William better
than anyone and could not recall ever seeing such an expression on the man’s
face. As he reined his horse close, he scrutinized William.
“My lord is taking a personal
interest in this treasure?” He nodded his head in Jordan’s direction.
He ignored the comment. “How is it
with the men?”
Paris looked off into the
spring-green countryside. “Rumbles, grumbles, innuendos. All that sort, but for
the most part they do not seem to care much about her.”
William nodded, absorbing the
information. “Just the same, Paris, if I am not with her, you will be. I will
take no chances with her welfare.”
Paris nodded. “Agreed, my lord,” he
replied, looking over at the figure sleeping beneath the cloak. “She is damn
beautiful for a Scot, is she not? No wonder her father was so protective.”
William did not dare look at his
friend; Paris knew him far too well and he was afraid that the man would read
the mass confusion he was feeling. Already, he could feel the man staring at
him.
“Aye,” he said simply.
The army continued until just after
dusk when William ordered a halt. Tents were pitched and fires started. They
were just inside the English border now and he was feeling a bit easier. His
mood was lighter as well. Tonight the men would dine on roast mutton.
Jordan awoke with a start when the
horse stopped. She hadn’t awoken the whole time William was barking orders and
he smiled at the humor of it.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped. “Where
am I?”
He held her tightly to keep her from
thrashing her way right off of the horse. “We are making camp, my lady, unless you
care to sleep on a moving horse all night,” he said.
She looked at him as recognition
dawned, realizing where she was. She ran a shaky hand across her brow.
“Nay, My lord, I wunna,” she
murmured. “I am quite anxious to get off this swaying beast.”
William dismounted the destrier and
held his arms up for her. Gratefully, wearily, she slid into them and he
lowered her gently to the ground. Their eyes met and Jordan experienced a
painful, unfamiliar jolt of excitement. She was positive he
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