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Jemma was not ignorant; she had a good deal of intelligence and could see that Jordan was making amends with Analiese. Biting back her natural snappishness, she smiled sweetly.

“Then ye will have to show me your methods,” she said nicely. “I canna embroider as well as ye do by a far sight. Would ye be so kind?”

Analiese’s haughty look faltered slightly as she glanced at Jordan and then to her cousin again. “Mayhap someday, when I do not have more pressing duties.”

Jemma was the model of an obedient, respectful lady. “Ye’re too generous, my lady. I look forward to that time.”

Jordan silently thanked God for giving Jemma the wisdom to curb herself in Analiese’s presence. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her chest and she actually took a deep, cleansing breath. Jemma smiled at her cousin and curtsied deeply, preparing to return to her seat.

“Wait,” Analiese said just as Jemma stepped away. When Jemma turned and faced her expectantly, Analiese struggled against her pride and flicked a wrist in the direction of an empty chair that was flush against the wall. “Join us, if you will. Lady Jordan and I were speaking of… husbands.”

Jemma’s face lit up. “My favorite subject. What do ye know about them?”

Analiese’s lip twitched. “Not much. Mayhap with our combined knowledge, we will not be so ignorant.”

Jemma’s face split with a wide smile as she pulled up the chair.

Several feet away from the dais, William Payton-Forrester was again passing an appraising eye over Jordan. William saw him but ignored it, more intent on noticing that Jemma had joined Analiese’s and Jordan’s conversation.

“So that is the fair Scot lass, is it?” Payton-Forrester raised his brows.

William glanced casually at Jordan. “Aye.”

Payton-Forrester passed a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I must get a closer look at her to see if your boast was justified.”

“You can see her well enough,” William told him. “She is not a prize mare to be ogled.”

“I do not ogle,” Payton-Forrester said flatly. “But I do inspect.”

William shot him a hard look, brooking no tolerance for what the man was suggesting. “Not her, you do not.”

Payton-Forrester looked into the eyes of his friend and was struck by what he read in the depths. His jocularity vanished in that second when he realized that there was more going on here than William was telling him, and he furthermore realized it was none of his business. The comments from earlier regarding the earl’s intended, when he proclaimed her great beauty, were beginning to make sense.

He pitied his friend for what could never be. He knew how strongly he felt for his Shannon and knew that if he could not have had her, he would not have wanted to live. He could not help but wonder how deep William’s feeling ran for the lass.

“Well, since you are going to ruin my fun, my men and I will be leaving this morn,” Payton-Forrester said.

William nodded. “Nearly everyone is leaving with the exception of Northumbria and Cumberland. It seems the earl did not invite many people to his wedding.”

Payton-Forrester passed another glance at Jordan. “Christ, I would if I were marrying her. I’d invite the whole damn country.” When William gave him another icy gaze, he smiled to lift the mood. “In any case, William, ’twas good to see you again. And find yourself a wife, would you?” Again, he looked at Jordan and found himself clapping William on the shoulder. “I hear Flanders is lovely this time of year.”

William almost reacted to the statement, wondering if Payton-Forrester and Paris had been talking. Where had he heard that before? He knew he had given away more than he had intended to, but he steadfastly refused to acknowledge the comment. Obviously, the man was not a fool and William knew he could trust his confidence. Were his feelings for Jordan so blatantly obvious?

As his friend quit the table, William again turned to pass a glance at Jordan, when one of his soldiers near the huge entry door caught his attention. Gladly, he excused himself and went to the man.

“My lord, riders approach.”

“Do we know who?” William asked.

The soldier looked grim. “Scots, my lord. Two of them.”

William was puzzled but did not show it. “I am coming,” when the man did a quick bow and ducked away, William turned in Paris’ direction and motioned to the man. When Paris joined him, the two of them marched purposefully from the room.

*

The two Scots sat in a guardroom in the gatehouse, being allowed entrance, and only to be herded into the room like criminals. They sat and waited, speaking alternately in English and Gaelic; angry at their treatment. When William and Paris entered the room, there was tangible hostility.

William approached cautiously while Paris hung back by the door. He eyed the two men.