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She obeyed, heading into her bedchamber thinking they were going to make love, but then realizing he wasn’t following her.

“English?” she called to him.

“I shall be there in a moment,” he said.

With a shrug, she lay down on her stomach on the cool linen sheets, letting out a contented sigh. She could hear him banging about in the antechamber and she cocked a puzzled eyebrow, wondering what in the world he could be doing.

He came into the chamber a minute later, bearing a basin and a cloth. Jordan, still on her stomach, watched him remove most of his armor and roll up his linen sleeves.

“What are ye doing?” she asked.

He put the cloth in the water. “I am going to bathe you.”

Pleased at the attention, she buried her face in the pillow and relished the feel of the cool water on her back and arms. His touch was slow and gentle, yet confident and she drowsed with the pleasure he was giving her. He stopped a moment, long enough to remove her pantalets, and then resumed his duty.

The cool dampness was heavenly on her legs and buttocks. The gross heat was permeating everything, and only the thick stones of the castle were able to offer some relief.

He continued to swab her for an endless amount of time and she was nearly asleep when he suddenly stopped.

“Turn over,” his voice was hoarse.

She obeyed, rolling onto her back. His breathing was ragged and his eyes smoky as he gently swabbed the front of her body, starting at her outstretched arms and ending at her little toes.

Jordan lay there, her eyes closed, her mind wallowing in every sensation he was giving her. The man was a gentle as a mother, for all of his size and strength. She could lay here forever and submit to his tender touch.

When he reached her breasts, he noticed what she had done with his gift.

“I like this,” he lifted up the chain.

She opened her eyes long enough to see what he was talking about. “It makes sense. The two most important tokens in the world to me, always next to my heart. Thank you for the gift, English. It means more to me that ye could imagine.”

“You are welcome,” he said, gently pushing the chain aside and continued his task.

“Did I scare ye, too?” she asked after several minutes.

He looked up from bathing her calves. “Hell yes, you did. But I caught you before you hit the ground.”

Her eyes opened and she stared up at the ceiling. “I have never fainted before. All I can remember is seeing Henry looking at me with his saggy eye and everything becoming very warm,” she said softly. “It still makes me sick to my stomach if I think about it.”

“Then do not think about it,” he instructed, wiping the cold cloth over her ankles.

“I canna help it.” She propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at him at the foot of the bed. “English, I am so scared he is going to find out what we’ve done. I canna bear the thought of losing ye. If ye were to die, I’d kill myself.”

He tossed the cloth into the basin. “Nobody is going to die, love. We are almost done with it.”

She pulled her knees up, hugging them. “But there is still tonight. And there is still Aloria.”

He let out a grunting sigh as he removed his boots and sat on the bed. “Jordan, listen to me,” he said quietly. “Even if the king were to find out, I would find a way to take you and leave the country. Remember what we talked about just a few days ago? I have family in Normandy. There are always options, love. You worry overmuch.”

She gazed at him, his hair waving in the heat, his beautiful face. “I love ye, English.”

He smiled, flashing his dimples. “I love you, even if you did faint in front of the king.”

She gave a small cry of outrage and hit him with the nearest pillow. He laughed seductively, pulling his wife to him and kissing her with all of the longing and ferocity he was feeling for her. He lost himself in the taste and feel of her, leaving her delicious mouth to suckle hungrily on her neck and the rest of her sweet body.

That afternoon, the captain of the troops made love, not once, but three times to the earl’s supposed bride.

CHAPTER THIRTY