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It was a wild, giddy world she had never before experienced on this level and she loved it. She loved to be happy and gay, but was increasingly disappointed that William had not yet danced with her. Just once, she hoped. What harm could it do? Just once to dance with the man she loved, in public, with everyone watching them. It almost brought her to tears thinking that she could pretend it was their wedding dance.

But William was busy, constantly roving the hall, checking in with his officers, making sure everything was running smoothly. But he kept his eye trained on her, watching every man that danced with her like The Wolf that he was. The sense of possessiveness that filled him was overwhelming but he did nothing to stop it. He could not have if he tried.

She kept passing him glances every time he would re-enter the hall and he could do nothing but gaze back at her. He knew she wanted him to dance with her, but he could not. It would not have been proper for the captain of the troops to dance with the future countess. He hoped to God she understood that he didn’t dance with her not because he didn’t want to.

A couple of hours before dawn most of the revelers were drunk through and through. The earl had long since retired, but Jordan, Analiese, Alexander and Adam were still going. Analiese and Jordan had spent the evening becoming comfortable with one another, yet William was still distrustful. Open hostility was much easier to handle than subversive thoughts.

Alexander reacted much the same way to Jordan that he always had; he ignored her. Adam, however, was obviously smitten with her and William had to smile at the naive boy. He was doomed for a heartache.

William had been watching Jordan all night and noticed that she had imbibed a good deal of wine. Every time a dance would end, someone would hand her a cup and she would drain it in one hoist to the cheers of her admirers. As much as he disapproved, he didn’t stop her because that was part of the tradition. He knew that one good hangover and that would cure her of this particularly vile custom. At the next party, she would remember and be far more cautious. Unless she was a lush, and then she would like it all the more. He chuckled inwardly to that thought.

By the time dawn broke, Jordan was bouncing off of the furniture and William decided she’d had enough. She had spent a wonderful evening, of which she would most likely remember little, and had won a great many admirers, mainly of the male sex. It had been blatantly evident that she was the princess of the party. Analiese, having ingested a great quantity of wine herself, seemed not to care, for she shared a good number of male attentions by her own right.

Jordan was propped against a table, half-talking and half-sleeping with a young nobleman, a cousin of the Earl of York. She giggled, slurred and he could hear her voice clear across the hall. When he marched sternly up to her, she tipped her head up to look at him and almost fell over backward.

He reached out and grabbed her, sending the man a scowl that sent him immediately away.

Jordan watched the man go, her head bobbing and weaving. “Ye chased him away, English. He was about to tell me a secret about Alexander. I do love secrets.”

He slipped his arm around her back, supporting her. “ ’Tis no secret you have had too much to drink,” he said, being mindful of who watched them. “ ’Tis time for you to retire.”

She pouted. “But my party is not over.”

“Aye, it is,” he enunciated each word.

Halfway across the hall she began to sag and he pulled her more firmly against him. “Why dinna ye dance with me, English?” she slurred. “I waited and waited.”

He started to answer when a shadow crossed in front of them. He raised his eyes to find himself staring into the beady orbs Baron Billingham. The tall, ugly man looked at Jordan as if he were appraising a side of beef and William bristled. It was no secret that the baron was particularly vile and William was fully prepared to do battle with him in order to protect Jordan.

“Tell me, lass,” he said with a leering smile, “do you have any sisters?”

Jordan tried to straighten up for she knew who the man was. She was trying desperately to form an answer in her alcohol-soaked mind but could not seem to remember any words.

“What do you care? You hate Scots more than anyone else around,” Alexander said as he was strolling past. He was weaving drunkenly as he headed for the door. “Besides, you are married.”

The earl glanced over his shoulder at the man. “Mayhap you should marry, Alexander, and then you would not be such a pain in the arse.”

Jordan could not stop herself. She started to giggle. William groaned inwardly, wondering what was going to come spilling forth from her delicious little mouth and praying she didn’t offend the man too greatly. Fortunately, the baron had had enough to drink as well.

“Nay, my lord, no sisters,” she said between chuckles and snorts. “Just me. And my cousin, Jemma, and my other cousin, Caladora. But there are plenty of beautiful Scot lasses for the choosing.”

The earl guffawed loudly in one short burst. “None that I have seen; at least, none like you.” He reached out a thick finger and stroked her cheek. “I’d pay good money for you.”

Jordan lost all of her joviality at that moment. She was frightened of the man and pressed closer to William. She was trying to formulate a reply when the baron, mercifully, moved away without another word.

William, relieved the encounter had not come to blows, hastened her from the room. As soon as they were in the foyer, he gathered her into his arms and took the steps two at a time until he reached her rooms.

There was no guard outside, which meant that Kieran was still inside with Jemma. Jordan had passed out cold on his shoulder and he shifted her so that he could knock on the barred door.

Suddenly, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spun around, at an extreme disadvantage with Jordan in his arms. He certainly didn’t want her to become a shield should a sword fly out at him and he was fully preparing to drop her to protect them both.

But it was only Alexander. The man stood in front of him, swaying dangerously. William’s tensed body relaxed at the sight. He was annoyed; he had no time for Alexander’s nonsense tonight.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded of the viscount. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I wanted to tell you to leave her alone,” Alexander replied.

William didn’t show any emotion. “Go to bed,” he said. “You are drunk.”