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He smiled a sort of cocky grin. “Paris de Norville, my lady. Second-in-command of Northwood’s army.”

He was a handsome bugger, obviously so. The type women swoon over, and she could furthermore see that he knew his own charm. But his smile was genuine and he had been more than kind to her.

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir Paris,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, the pleasure is mine. Now, tell me; do you know much of Alexander, Lady Jordan?”

“Aye,” Jordan looked up timidly from her lap. “He was a great warrior, not only to the Greeks, but to the Egyptians and the Persians and the Syrians. He actually ruled his empire from Babylon, but it was so vast he could have ruled from anywhere in the civilized world.”

Paris was pleased. Alexander the Great was his hero, and he was well versed in the man and his tactics. He never believed a lady would be the least bit interested in an ancient soldier. He smiled broadly at her; he was beginning to like her a great deal.

“My lady, one day you and I will have to discuss Alexander in great length,” he said. “And you must give me your opinion on his war machine.”

She returned his smile shyly. “I would like that, Sir Paris,” she said, then suddenly brightened. “My Da read us the story of Helena and Paris once. ’Tis yer namesake, is he?”

“Aye,” he replied. “I suppose that is who I reminded my mother of. Mayhap she had high hopes for me.”

From over Paris’ shoulder, still with his back to them, Deinwald snorted. “She should have named you Cyclops. That is who you remind me of.”

Paris smiled wryly at Jordan before turning around. “And your name shall be Brainless for tempting fate as you do. One day someone will cut your heart out for one insult too many.”

“And I shall be the first in line to shake his hand,” Sir Kieran said dryly.

“And I s-shall build a shrine and burn virgins once a day in his honor,” Sir Michael cut in.

“A severe contradiction,” Deinwald glanced at the extremely tall man. “I have never heard you utter the word ‘I’ and ‘virgin’ in the same breath.”

“Gentle knights.” Paris roared so they would cease their train of conversation. “Remember that we have a lady present, if you please.”

Jordan could not help but snicker until Deinwald glared at her and she lowered her head. But the smile was still there.

A very young knight, hardly more than her age, joined their group. The older knights teased him roughly over something Jordan could not quite catch, but she really did not care anyway. She was beginning to feel her fatigue. Paris gently pulled her into the conversation by introducing the young knight by the name of Corin de Fortlage. He smiled happily at Jordan as one would when gazing at a sweet plum pudding and gallantly kissed her hand. She almost giggled at his school-boy charm.

But the frivolity stopped when William appeared and the knights gave him their full, undivided attention. Jordan was amazed that the frivolity that had been there only an instant before was gone as the men looked eagerly at their captain. Even Deinwald’s churlish expression had vanished. She was beginning to see what a presence William commanded with his men, and it fascinated her. She thought she had been the only one to feel his overwhelming presence.

“Go get your food,” he ordered.

Everyone obeyed except for Paris. He was smiling at Jordan until William stepped between them.

“Take one of Lady Jordan’s maids and bring back her supper,” he instructed. “She is famished.”

“Nay, my lord, I am not,” she countered softly. “If ye will show me where I am to sleep, I shall be thanking ye.”

William looked her up and down, hands on his hips. “It has been a long ride, my lady. You need your strength.”

Her beautiful face turned up to him, the light from the fire caressing her features.

“I will eat doubly on the morrow, then, I promise ye,” she pleaded softly. “I only wish to sleep now.”

He was in deep trouble. If his life depended on it, he could not have denied her. He was appalled at himself and amused at the same time. He was not used to having his orders countered and repressed the urge to demand she eat. But he could not very well force-feed her if she was not hungry, so she might as well sleep as she requested.

Disgusted at his lack of backbone where she was concerned, he raked his fingers through his dark brown hair.

“Very well,” he extended his hand to her. “Paris, take charge of both maids for this night. I will take charge of the lady.”

Paris watched them walk away, William’s hand holding her wrist, disappearing into the darkness. His eyes glittered in the firelight. He had never seen his friend so…soft. It wasn’t so much in his voice, or his actions, but in his eyes. Paris let out a long, speculative sigh.

“Watch yourself, William,” he whispered to himself. “Watch yourself.”