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Jordan watched her cousin go with the knight, her gaze averted from her husband. William took a few timid steps closer.

“Did you get your valuables back?” he asked softly.

“Aye,” she nodded. “But not all of them. I insisted he keep some of the nicer pieces, William.”

He didn’t like the tone in which she used his Christian name. “Why?”

Her pale green eyes riveted to him. “Because I dunna know ye as well as I thought. You were going to commit murder, something I dinna believe ye capable of. I would have the priest pray for that part of ye that would knowingly kill a weaker being.”

His misery returned in one blow. “You do not understand, Jordan. I was going to do what I felt needed to be done. Too many people’s lives depended on it. I am sorry if you cannot comprehend that.”

“So am I,” she replied. “I thought ye were perfect, William. But ye’re not; ye’re just like all the rest.”

She could not have done any more damage to him if she had taken his sword and gutted him. He stared back at her, naked pain in his eyes.

“Please do not hate me,” he said, and could not help himself from begging. “I know you do not agree with me, but I do not regret my actions. There are things in this life that are necessary, though distasteful as they may be. Would you have preferred, instead, for me to have done nothing and for Aloria to have gone straight to the queen with her knowledge? Do you realize what would, and still could happen?”

She didn’t answer him; she was staring off across the small garden, overgrown with foxgloves. He sighed helplessly.

“Then I shall tell you,” he said quietly. “For his blatant disobedience, the earl could be stripped of his lands and titles and taken to London for execution. I, at the very least, could be made to face the block at Northwood, killed on the very soil I have spent my life protecting. And you could be sent back to Scotland, in disgrace, and the Scott clan humiliated. Now tell me; is sparing one life worth losing so many others?”

When she did turn to look at him, her eyes were glistening with hot, unshed tears. He could only gaze back at her, praying to God that she somewhat understood now.

“Ye’re not a murderer?” she was begging for an answer to satisfy her soul.

He shook his head. “Nay, love, not if I can help it, not if there is another way,” he replied. “Death in battle is one thing, but outright killing is entirely another. But I would murder all of England to keep you safe.”

She crumpled, her hands flying to her mouth as tears spilled over her cheeks. “I know, English. Forgive me for doubting ye.”

He caught her in his arms, holding her so close he was crushing her. He felt his eyes sting with tears at the pure relief he felt.

“My sweet love, there is nothing to forgive,” he whispered. “If anyone should be begging forgiveness, it should be me. I am so desperately sorry you had to go through this.”

She sobbed against his chest armor as he caressed her with gauntleted hands.

“Ye frightened me so,” she whispered, muffled against him.

“I know, love,” he cooed. “I am sorry.”

He held her for a long, long time. When her sobs finally died down, he helped her wipe her tears away. She looked so pitifully tired and worn with worry.

“Where is Aloria?” she asked hoarsely.

“In the cellar,” he replied. “I shall retrieve her upon our return.”

Jordan nodded as he tenderly took her back to his horse. The other knights watched the forlorn figure with great sadness as their captain helped her to mount.

“English, what if she tells?” she asked after they were underway.

He never thought the word ‘English’ would sound so sweet to his ears. To hear her use it meant that all was right once again.

“She has given me her word that she will not. We will simply have to trust her.”

Jordan leaned back against her husband with a sigh, knowing he spoke the truth. There was nothing any of them could do but trust the strange woman and pray she was honorable.

*

Jordan was awakened before dawn by Aloria and Sylvie, both women eager and business-like to get her dressed and ready. Jordan was so tired she nearly slept through her bath until Sylvie poured cold water on her head to wake her up and began scrubbing her scalp raw.