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Jemma glared at them both again before turning back around and curling up into a ball on the chair. Her hijinks were making Jordan forget her own nerves as Michael opened the door and she was escorted out by the two handsome knights.

Jordan’s nerves announced themselves loud and clear the very moment she set foot into the grand hall. There were more soldiers and courtiers than she could count, all distant and unfamiliar in her grand hall. She would have felt as if she were in a completely different place had it not been for the Northwood soldiers lining the hall in full regalia and the sentries stationed in the gallery above.

The meal was an informal one, meant to simply refresh after the journey and tide the guests over until the large feast later on that evening. Kieran and Michael escorted Jordan through the white-faced women and haughty men who made up the king’s caravan. She looked the people in the eye, silently daring them to say one bloody negative word to her. But even though she was putting up a brave front, inside she was feeling exceptionally uncomfortable.

As they approached the dais, her eyes immediately fell on her husband seated, no less, at the king’s hand. Even de Longley was on the other side of William, one seat down from the king. Puzzled, Jordan tried to keep her eyes downcast until she was spoken to.

Henry and Eleanor eyed the Scot woman with interest. She was extremely beautiful, and that came of somewhat of a surprise. Henry found his curiosity whetted; usually when the woman was as beautiful as all that, she was as stupid as a door. He continued to observe her for several long moments before speaking.

“Your full name,” he asked.

Jordan’s head snapped up. “The Lady Jordan Mary Joseph Scott, daughter of Earl Thomas Scott of clan Scott, sire.”

Henry nodded. Jordan openly observed the man, noting that one eyelid drooped profusely and gave him an almost dense appearance. He was homely-looking, she thought.

“We are pleased with your comeliness,” he finally said. “And we are also pleased that a mighty alliance will be forged come the morrow. I, in fact, sent an invitation to your king, Alexander, but he was unable to attend due to illness. A pity.”

“Aye, sire,” Jordan agreed quietly.

The king stared at her a few more moments. William, at the man’s left hand, watched his wife impassively. God, she looked lovely, but she was nervous as hell. He didn’t blame her in the least.

Henry leaned around William to look at the earl. “Fill her full of worthy English sons, John. She is of fine stock.”

Jordan heard the words, outraged that she was considered no more than a brood mare. But she held her tongue and her downcast expression, praying the man would dismiss her.

“Indeed,” Eleanor spoke up and Jordan became nervous anew. “She is lovely. ’Tis amazing to find one so lovely and untouched. How old are you, child?”

Jordan looked at the queen, a thick-featured plain woman. It was said that she was an extravagant woman, much to her husband’s disapproval. Jordan could believe that rumor purely from the jewels she wore.

“Twenty years, your highness,” she replied.

“Twenty years.” Eleanor repeated. “You are practically an old maid. Tell me; were you not betrothed to anyone at home? Why have you not been married already?”

Jordan blinked. “I…I was betrothed at one time, my lady,” she said. Not even William knew this particular detail of her life and she spoke haltingly, knowing he was listening. “When I was a bairn I was betrothed to the son of the clan chief Galloway. But my betrothed was killed in a battle with the English when he was seventeen.”

“And your father did not immediately make another betrothal?” Eleanor pressed.

Jordan felt sick. Why didn’t she simply drop the subject? “Nay, my lady. My Da was rather particular about his only daughter. He felt no one worthy for me.”

“The earl is worthy, however.” Henry was now back in the conversation, and wanted to know if Laird Scott was snobbish in general, and not merely with his fellow Scots.

“Aye, sire, the earl is worthy,” Jordan replied quickly. “My Da was pleased for the opportunity of peace.”

Satisfied with the answer, Henry turned his attention away from her and she assumed she was dismissed. But Eleanor, however, had other intentions.

“Come here,” she motioned to Jordan.

Jordan immediately went to her, curtsying. Eleanor flicked her wrist in the general direction of a dozen women to her right.

“The earl has requested one of my women to guide you through your new station in life,” she said. “I have selected a young woman who I believe will be quite to accomplish this task. Aloria?”

A tall blond woman separated herself from the pack and stepped forward. Jordan’s eyes widened a bit; she was nearly as tall as the knights, with long, straight hair and a prettier-than-average face. But, Sweet Jesu,’ she was big-boned. Jordan had a horrible feeling that one wrong move or word and this woman could seriously disable her. She looked as if she could take on some of the men at Northwood and win.

“This is Lady Aloria de Gare,” Eleanor said. “She will serve you quite capably.”

Aloria moved around the table and came to stand slightly behind Jordan. Eleanor, with a final glance of approval, turned her attention away and Jordan knew she was dismissed.

She was expected to stay and eat with the king and queen. Yet she was so nervous and sick that she knew if she tried to eat a bite, it would all come back up again. However, she allowed a steward to show her to a seat on the dais next to Analiese and she slouched in her chair, trying to hide behind her friend.