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“Get the ladies out of here,” he ordered sharply.

She clutched Michael’s neck, still reeling from shock and the pain of her still-tender shoulder being jostled, but she heard William’s orders and she balked.

“No!” she yelled at him, but he had already turned away. She looked up at Michael. “Dunna take me out, Michael. Not now. I must stay.”

He ignored her, sweeping her away with him and somehow managing to take Analiese along. Three of Northwood’s senior men-at-arms came rushing to his aid from their posts by the door.

Jordan had to stay. She had no idea what was going on, but she guessed she was either the cause or the cure. Twisting hard, she managed to loosen Michael’s grip and he had to stop or drop her.

“Calm down, m-my lady, all will be well,” he insisted.

She glared at him, half-clutched in his arms. “Put me down, ye brute, or I shall box yer ears.”

She was dead serious. Michael would obey William’s order to the death, but for some reason he found himself obliging and set her gently on the ground.

She sighed irritably and straightened her confining clothing. Her shoulder was aching a great deal at all of the exertion and she rubbed at it. Michael, seized with the fear that he had somehow reinjured her shoulder, went down on one knee so that he could look her in the eye.

“Are you all right, m-my lady?” he asked, his deep blue eyes concerned.

She waved off his concern. “I am fine. I would return now.”

“Nay, my lady,” he said firmly. “I have been ordered to return you to your rooms.”

Jemma came racing up then, a difficulty considering she was inebriated. She grabbed Jordan as she came to a halt so she would not fall over.

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” she demanded.

Jordan could smell the liquor on her breath. And not just any liquor; it was whisky. She wanted to demand where she had got it from, but held her tongue. For now, she ignored her cousin’s question.

“Aye, ye have indeed been ordered to return me, Sir Michael,” she eyed him stubbornly. “But Sir William dinna say when ye were to return me to my rooms.”

His eyebrows rose. “But…my lady, he meant now.”

She ignored him, and Analiese and Jemma as well, straining to see what was going on.

What was going on was a lot of yelling and confusion. William had shoved his two knights out of the way and had hauled the earl’s son to his feet. He was brutally rough with the lad, drawing even louder protests from the young man’s kin.

“Where’s the goddamn dirk?” he demanded harshly to no one in particular.

“I have it,” Kieran held the emerald-encrusted blade in his left hand, still clutching his huge sword in his right.

William had Langley by the collar and forced him to meet his eyes. “You were going to stab the future countess,” he accused through clenched teeth.

“Nay!” the boy was scared out of his mind. “I was going to give her the blade as a gift.”

“With the blade pointing at her?” Kieran snarled. “I saw you unsheathe it, boy. Do not lie.”

The young man shook his head hard. “Nay, I tell you. It became unsheathed accidentally.”

De Longley was standing next to William, his face dark. His usually mild expression was menacing.

“Lady Jordan did not survive an arrow to be cut down by the likes of you,” he growled. “William, remove him and his family from my house.”

“Wait!” Earl Corvalis was pale. “He has done nothing. My boy would not murder anyone.”

De Longley whirled viciously. “We have known each other a long time, Bruce, and because of that friendship I will not order your son killed. But from this day on I will wash my hands of you. You are no longer welcome at Northwood.”

“Why did ye try to kill me, lad?”