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“Like hell!” William snapped. “The bastard is after my wife and now he will have to reckon with me.”

“My lord, de Troiu is a favorite of the king at the moment,” Roan said. “As are you. He will not be pleased if either one of you met with a blade.”

William opened his mouth to tell Roan to shut up when Kieran stepped in hastily. “Let us go to your apartments and help your wife pack.” He put a big hand on William’s shoulder and the other on Paris’ insistently. “Let us think this through for a moment before we do anything. Agreed?”

He gave them both a shove and William was reluctant to comply, but he did. The four of them marched into the castle, drawing stares from all they encountered. Word spread like wildfire that The Wolf had returned to Windsor, and William knew it would simply be a matter of time before Henry was beating down his door demanding audience. He had to get to Jordan and calm himself down.

His wife had taken the knights directly to their comfortable apartments. As soon as the men were through the door they began to demand to see William’s new sons, as she knew they would, and she was very proud to do them the honor.

Reemerging from the nursery with one son in each arm, the aggressive knights immediately turned into calm, docile men as she presented her babes.

She held the infants as the knights fawned over them, cooing strange baby language and confidently suggesting which son looked like which parent. Jordan was pleased and honored at their attentions, amazed that such fierce men could be turned into quivering, reverent humans at the simple sight of a baby. But she knew that it should not surprise her, for her husband had the same reaction. It was no time before she was handing the babes off to eager arms.

Her husband and Kieran and Paris entered the antechamber a short while later. While she turned eagerly to William, Paris began to rant loudly.

“Which of these little pups is my namesake?” he demanded with obvious delight. “I would have him now.”

Jordan, tearing her eyes from her husband, pointed to the child Michael held. “That is Troy, Paris.”

Paris went immediately to retrieve the child, oblivious to Michael’s protests, and smiled happily at the dark-haired boy.

William came to her, putting his arm around her waist and smiling faintly as his knights delivered uncompromised attention to his sons. As badly as he wanted to hold his boys, he knew there would be plenty of time later. At this moment, he had more pressing matters on his mind that required a moment of privacy with his wife.

Kieran stood back away from the group, his handsome face distant. Jordan could see his discomfort and pulled away from her husband to go to him.

“How’s Jemma?” she asked softly, curling her hands around his huge forearms.

“She is improving,” he said truthfully, forcing a smile. “She begged to come with us, but I forbade her and she is quite angry with me.”

Jordan smiled sadly. “How is she faring with… well, with the babe gone?”

His own smile faded. “She is faring as well as can be expected,” he said quietly. “We both are.”

She knew he would tell her more later, when they were in private, so she did not push for answers. Instead, she went over to Ranulf and took Scott from him. Returning, she placed the blond babe gently in Kieran’s massive arms.

“Hold him for a while,” she said with a tight voice. “He smiles now, did ye know? Speak to him.”

Kieran gazed down at the baby, whose wide blue eyes gazed up at him curiously. It was such an innocent, comical look that he smiled.

“Well, Scott, I see that you are looking more like your mother, thankfully,” he said softly.

The babe’s reaction was to smile a silly, toothless grin at him that melted his heart. The pain of his own loss was somehow intensified, yet somehow lessened at the same time. He fell instantly in love with the little lad.

“William, this child looks the spitting image of you,” Paris said gravely from across the room. “Why could you not name the child that looks like Jordan after me? I am, after all, blond as she is. Why must my namesake have your swarthy devil looks?”

Jordan’s eyebrows rose in feigned outrage. “Are ye saying, Paris de Norville, that my son is ugly?”

“Nay, my lady, not at all,” he amended quickly. “The child is beautiful. ’Twas your husband I was calling ugly.”

Jordan went to William and put her arms around him protectively. “He is no such thing,” she said adoringly. “He’s the most beautiful man this side of heaven.”

The knights chuckled at the use of ‘beautiful’. William put his arms around her. “How many times do I have to tell you that men are not beautiful?” he said.

She smiled sweetly up at him and he returned her loving gaze. With their sons well taken care of, William decided that the time was right to have a brief discussion with his wife. He pulled her along with him into the bedchamber and closed the door behind them.

Jordan watched her husband as he wordlessly removed his armor from the waist up. Her limbs tingled with anticipation at being able to finally touch his flesh and she wondered excitedly if he was going to make love to her at this very moment, even with his knights in the other room. But instead of opening his arms to her, he faced her with his hands on his hips.

“What is all of this about de Troiu?” he asked.