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William grinned, hoping to lighten the insult. “Aye. See if you do not agree if you have the privilege to meet her.”

“Preposterous.” Payton-Forrester said gruffly.

William left him with a promise that he would sit by him at the celebration feast, and entered the castle with Jordan filling every corner of his mind.

Michael met him at the door. William’s guard went up at the look on his knight’s face. “What is wrong?” he demanded.

Michael looked grim and upset, motioning for William to keep his voice down.

“I wanted to speak with you first, before you see her,” he said quietly. “The earl came this m-morning before the sun rose. He went into Jordan’s bedchamber and closed the door. William, there was nothing I could do to stop the m-man.”

William’s chest nearly exploded with apprehension and horror. “Stop him from what?”

Michael sighed heavily. He hated to deliver such news. “I do not think he violated her, at least not in the literal sense,” he said softly. “But he did touch her. That was all I could get out of her. William, I am sorry. He is m-my liege and I am sworn to obey him. He ordered me away and I had to comply.”

“Damnation!” William hissed furiously. “Of all the goddamned, unbelievable….”

He stopped in mid-rage at the sight of Michael’s face. It suddenly occurred to him that Michael knew about his relationship with Jordan. They all did. He had told no one but Paris, but somehow they all knew.

They were obviously beyond any more charades. And it was obvious by Michael’s words that his knight was on his side, right or wrong.

William let out a blustery sigh, struggling to control his fury. “Where is she?” he asked quietly.

Michael tipped his head. “In her bedchamber.”

He moved toward the closed door. “Stay here in case Jemma awakens,” he said. “I do not want her near Jordan yet.”

“Aye, m-my lord,” came the soft reply.

Wearily, strung out with anguish, William entered the darkened bedchamber. Jordan was asleep on her bed facing away from him. He closed the door quietly, concern etching his tired features. He moved around the bed so that he could see her face; it was pale and tear-stained and his heart lurched painfully.

God, why? He mused bitterly. Why did this have to happen to them? Why could not they have met under different circumstances allowing them to be together? William kept hoping the inevitable wedding would somehow be put off. He realized he wanted it postponed indefinitely because he could not stand the thought of it taking place.

With each passing minute, she became more a part of him than the minute before and he knew now, looking at her, that she could never be the Countess of Teviot. He’d given her a pretty speech earlier about honor and selfishness, but those reasons were gone. That was before the reality of the earl’s visit. William would not allow Jordan to marry the man. She belonged to him; the king, and the crown, and peace be damned.

William unlatched his armor and let it slide to the floor. The clothing came off, piece by piece. He was so damned tired and frustrated he simply wanted to crawl into bed beside her and hold her until he gained control of himself. Naked, he slid under the covers and gathered her to him. Instantly she awoke and began struggling hysterically.

“ ’Tis me, Jordan,” he gripped her flailing arms. “Calm yourself, love. ’Tis me.”

Jordan froze, her confused and terrified gaze riveted to his face. It took a split second for the sight of his hazel-gold eyes to register, and then she burst into tears.

He pulled her fiercely to him, clutching her as if he could absorb her fear and her sorrow into his own body. Her sobs were breaking his heart.

“I am here, love, I am here,” he whispered over and over. “You are safe.”

“He came here,” she sobbed. “The earl came to me.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“He touched me.” She pulled away to look at his face, tears streaming down her face. “He forced me to undress for him. He…he touched me.”

William stiffened against her, white hot anger ripping through him. He forced himself with every ounce of strength he possessed to remain outwardly calm.

“How did he touch you?” he asked hoarsely.

Her whimpers were killing him. “He touched my skin and made me turn around for him so that he could look me over. Then…,” she was making herself hysterical, “then he made me lie on the bed so he could see for himself if I was a virgin.”

Dear God in heaven, how much could one man take? William bolted up, taking her with him, his hands roughly grabbing her face to look at him.