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“She needed this one,” Jordan insisted softly. “It seems that Analiese is very threatened by me. She has had the attention of all of the menfolk here at Northwood for so long that when I came, she was naturally jealous. ’Tis why she has been so mean to me. And then tonight when I came into the hall with my fashionable dress, she felt very plain and ugly. So I gave her the dress to make her feel better.”

His eyes turned soft. “Is that why you are wearing this…this monstrosity?”

“Aye,” she gazed down at her dress.

“Then you will go to your rooms and change at once,” he said firmly.

“Nay, English,” she said resolutely. “I canna. Dunna ye see? I have to wear this dress. If I were to change it, it would insult Analiese. When I wear it and everyone says how lovely I look, she can tell them that it is her dress. But mayhap ye dunna understand a woman’s pride. ’Tis important that I keep it on.”

They stopped and he faced her, gazing at her so warmly and lovingly that she felt her insides go to jelly. She always found it hard to breathe when he looked at her this way.

“You are the kindest woman, my lady,” he said softly. “Simply to make plain Analiese beautiful you would risk looking less than tasteful so that you do not outshine her.”

“Then ye do understand a woman’s pride,” she smiled.

He wiggled his brows. “That may be the only thing I understand about women,” he confessed. “But I know one thing; that I do love you.”

She blushed, wishing he could take her in his arms. “I love ye, too, English.”

He didn’t dare touch her any more than he was already doing, her hand on his forearm, but he was aching to draw her against him. With a sigh only she heard, they turned back for the party.

Back inside the hall, Jordan resumed her place in the receiving line with a gentle smile to Analiese. The earl caught the expression and turned his questioning gaze on Jordan as she returned beside him.

“Everything is…all right, my lady?” he asked hesitantly.

“Aye, sire, everything will be fine,” she replied happily. “I am quite enjoying the party.”

He nodded, uncertainty and amazement filling his eyes. He kept glancing from Jordan to Analiese and back again, shaking his head. Jordan, for her part, felt as if a gigantic weight had been lifted for her and she felt quite free to enjoy herself.

Behind the family, a line of knights had taken up station. William, Paris, Deinwald, Kieran, Michael and Lewis stood silent and grim-faced as dozens of well-wishers filed by. Originally it had only been William, Paris and Kieran, and when the others joined, William made a point of casually moving next to Michael.

“Who in the hell is in command, de Bocage?” he demanded quietly.

“Ranulf has command of the castle, along with Captain Brockenhurst from Deauxville Mount,” he whispered back. “Marc and Corin are roving the walls and outlying areas, assisted by the captains of Northumbria and Hawkgrove. Viscount Wereford, the son of Cumberland, and Jason have command of the loft and the room.”

William nodded, glancing up the loft. It was a balcony that encircled the entire hall, flying several family banners and now lined with soldiers of all different houses. At the very near point of the balcony, almost directly over the dais, flew the banner of the clan Scott. He took another look at it, thinking that in this time of peace it was not particularly peaceful. It was a four-point shield on a background of Scott tartan, green, orange, white and black. The design on the shield was simple, a head stuck on the end of an upraised sword; the sword gloriously decorated with jewels and the Scot crown.

He turned away from it, hoping no one would comment at the gory crest, considering the entire purpose of the party was a peaceful one. His mind focused back to the festivities, the people, and several allied soldiers helping themselves to the food tables.

He elbowed Paris. “All the rest of the captains and officers are bloody well in here, eating us to the poorhouse. Lazy bastards.”

“You are in here,” Paris remarked drolly.

William didn’t even look at him. “As are you, which proves my point.”

In front of them, Jordan was doing quite well remembering her manners as well as all of the name and titles being thrown at her. She moved easily as if she were quite comfortable being the center of attention. She would engage the women in conversations about their jewels or dress, and encourage the men to tell her something of their families. All in all it was an excellent display, and he knew then and there that she would make a fine countess. He didn’t know whether to be proud or miserable.

The earl was introducing her to Earl Corvalis’ son, Langley. The lad was perhaps her age and he obviously was not thrilled to meet her. Jordan tried her best to be pleasant, but the situation was uncomfortable and she was eager to get on with it. She was hungry and her feet were starting to hurt, and the fool was taxing her good humor sorely.

She feigned interest as the lad’s father engaged the earl in a hearty conversation, ignoring Langley who stood in front of her. If he were going to be rude and not talk to her, then she would reciprocate. She could see him from the corner of her eye, looking at her and fumbling at his tunic.

Kieran saw the dagger first. It was right in his line of sight. The other knights saw him moving for his sword and, without question, drew theirs from their scabbards in a surge of force. By the time that action had been completed, they had all seen the source of Kieran’s concern and William was in motion.

Faster than speed itself, he grabbed Jordan out of the way. Paris had the earl and the viscount, shoving the men behind him, while Michael protected Analiese. Kieran and Deinwald descended on the earl’s son like vultures as Lewis tried to shove the confused guests clear of the melee.

People were screaming, falling away from the center of confusion and the soldiers on the loft began to break rank to go see what the matter was. Jason and Viscount Wereford were shouting at the top of their lungs for them to fall back, not at all sure themselves what was transpiring. It threatened to turn into a boiling mass of panicked people.

Jordan gasped as William swung her into his arms and was just getting a grip on his neck when he deposited her into Michael’s big arms.