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“Do not die, Jordan,” he wept quietly. “Do not leave me. I love you more than my own life.”
He had been awake for nearly two days. Without realizing it, without wanting to, he fell asleep with Lady Jordan cradled in his arms.
*
William awoke in the bed and found himself alone. Seized with a panic, he bolted from the bed like a man possessed.
“Jordan.” he yelled hoarsely. “God, no. Do not take her. Paris….”
He surged into the antechamber only to be met by Paris steadying him, gripping his arms fiercely.
“Keep your voice down,” Paris hissed. “You’ll wake the whole damn castle.”
William almost tore Paris’ arms off. “Where is she?” he demanded.
“She is here,” came a soft and decidedly tired female voice. “She is here and she is famished. I thought ye’d never wake up, English.”
Had Paris not been holding him, William would have collapsed. He turned with sheer disbelief in the direction of the voice and was overwhelmed to see Jordan sitting in the high-back arm chair, wrapped in a soft blue robe with her feet resting on a cushioned stool. She was pale and wan, but she smiled at him and he came apart at the seams.
The next thing he realized he was on his knees in front of her, his face buried in her lap and gripping her legs as tightly as he could. He was deathly afraid that he was dreaming. Jordan stroked his dark hair weakly with her good arm, smiling down at him.
“Come, now, English,” she said softly. “Ye dinna think that I would truly leave ye?”
His head came up and his hands were all over her face, her hair, touching her body to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“Are you real?” he whispered raggedly. “I thought you were dead.”
She closed her eyes at his touch, too weak to respond with much else. “Nay, not dead,” she whispered. “Though I think I was at one point, but I kept hearing yer voice. I tried to follow it, hoping I would find ye. Next thing I knew I awoke in yer arms. Paris was leaning over ye and quite surprised to see me. He thought I was dead, too, and had come to pry me from yer arms.”
William’s mind was reeling. He looked at Paris, then back to Jordan again. He was at a loss for words. He wanted to hug her desperately but knew she was too weak to handle it.
“My God,” he breathed. “I hope I am not dreaming. I still cannot believe that you are actually alive. ’Tis too unbelievable.”
“For me, as well,” Paris interjected gently. “I came in here fully expecting to find you holding a corpse and as soon as I bent down to remove her, she looked at me and smiled. I nearly fainted.”
He looked at Paris then. “Why is she up?” he demanded, recovering somewhat from his shock. “She should be abed.”
“Because I asked him to bring me in here to allow ye to sleep,” Jordan answered for Paris. “I was fairly sore from lying in bed for two days. It feels wonderful to sit up, although I am as weak as a new babe.”
He looked dubiously at her, then turned to Paris again. “You should not have allowed this.”
“What was I to do?” Paris lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat. “She demanded it of me twice and then threatened to get out by herself if I would not help her. I assure you, she has done nothing but sit here for six hours.”
“Six hours?” William mumbled, running his hand through his hair. “Damn, how long have I been asleep?”
“About seven hours,” Paris replied. “ ’Tis a little after the nooning meal.”
William looked down at Jordan, his heart singing with happiness again now that he knew she was not going to disappear before his eyes. “Have you eaten anything at all?” he asked.
“A little,” she said. “But I was hoping we could sup together.”
Paris smiled. “And I shall be happy to personally retrieve your meal,” he said. “But I must warn you, ’twill be difficult to fight Jemma off if she sees that you are strong enough to eat. She is desperate to see you.”
“Fight her off as long as ye can,” Jordan looked lovingly up at William. “I wish to be alone with my knight.”
They were lost to the world, seeing and hearing only each other. Paris slipped quietly from the room, feeling happier and lighter than he had in years.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
