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She stopped trying to push him away, but she lay rigid against him. “I am not being stubborn,” she replied, although she had her arms around her torso protectively. “But I am not sure this is….”

He cut her off. “My lady,” he grunted as her elbow dug into his gut. “It would be much better for both of us if you relaxed.” He moved the offending joint to a better position.

Everything in Jordan’s mind screamed of the impropriety of this intimate position but, God help her, she liked it. He was warm and comfortable and she had never felt so contented or safe. She was evil, she knew, for allowing this to take place. But he felt so good, and she really was freezing.

Caution be damned, she put her cold hands against his chest and felt him start a little at the shock. William’s massive arms wound around her and she was aware of a tingling sensation in her stomach, the spark of giddy excitement. If she would allow herself to admit it, it was a wonderful sensation.

“Are you always this cold?” he sounded irritated.

“Aye, always,” she replied. “My blood is not a thick as it should be.”

She squirmed a little to get closer against him, ramming her head into his chin in the process. He grunted and put his hand on the top of her head.

“Stop moving,” he told her.

She disobeyed him for the next few seconds before finally settling in with a sigh of contentment.

As Jordan drifted off again, William lay there with his eyes wide open. Lavender. He smelled her lavender scent. He had smelled it when she had first sat before him on his destrier and the scent of it now was much stronger. It seemed to caress him, tease him, and taunt him until he felt the urge to groan aloud with the seductive torment of it. He could only pray that he would fall asleep quickly, but so far, sleep was elusive. With her in his arms, he wondered if he could even sleep at all.

Jordan wasn’t asleep. She, too, was feeling a good deal of tumultuous feelings at William’s nearness. Try as she might, she could not fall back to sleep. Laying in his arms was too new and wonderful a sensation to lose to something as mundane as sleep.

“What kind of man is Lord De Longley?” she whispered against his chest.

William heard the soft question. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I am not,” she murmured. “I canna sleep. Will ye answer my question?”

He thought a moment. “He is a decent man,” he finally answered.

Jordan was silent a moment. “He….he dunna want any part of me, does he?”

William was careful in his reply. “He is old, my lady. He feels he is too old to be a bridegroom again.

She fell silent as she contemplated that statement. It was simply a nice way to tell her she was unwanted.

“Will he lock me in the tower?” she asked.

He pulled back and looked at her as if she was daft. “Where in the hell did you get that idea?”

She pulled back, too, accidentally driving her knee into the flesh of his upper thigh as she did. He grunted, eyeing her as she put her hand to her mouth in a silent apology. Then she sat up beside him.

“I have heard all about English lords and their cruelty,” she insisted. “I know that they lock their enemies in towers to rot, or torture them for pleasure, or worse. I have even heard that they cut off the heads of enemy warriors and stick them on poles. Dunna deny this, English, for ye would be lying.”

He gazed up at her. “I will not deny it, but Lord de Longley is not that sort.”

“Then what sort is he?” she demanded. “He has been making war with my clan for more years than I have been alive.”

William cocked an eyebrow. “What sort is your father that he has been making war on Lord de Longley for more years than you have been alive?” he countered. “Do not make the border wars out to be all of England’s fault, Lady Jordan.”

Her eyebrows shot up in outrage. “ ’Tis Scot soil ye English crave.”

“That, my lady, is a matter of opinion.” He did not want to argue the point with her anymore. Reaching up, he pulled her down to him. Jordan reacted quite naturally by putting her hands up to brace herself against the impact, but in the process made contact with his eye. He muttered something and squeezed his smarting eye shut, closing her in an iron grip.

Angry and flustered, she pushed against his hard chest. “And dunna hold me so close,” she spat, frustrated. “ ’Tis not proper.”

He grabbed her hands to still them. “It may not be proper, but it is safe and warm. Now be still before you bruise me all over. I wish to sleep now.”

“Sleep.” she screeched. “Ye malign me Da and expect me not to defend him? He is a fine and decent man and if ye say otherwise, I shall…I shall…..”