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They rode hard that day but barely covered thirty miles. When night fell, Jordan fixed comfortable beds for the babies in the carriage while William went through the trouble of pitching a tent. He was tired of being wet all the time. He insisted that his wife sleep with the babes, but she insisted on sleeping with him and argued loudly until he kissed her hard simply to shut her up. She slept with him.

The next day of travel was much the same, with the exception that it rained heavily the entire day. William was absolutely firm that Jordan ride in the carriage where it was dry. She did, reluctantly, but kept peeling back the oiled cloth to catch glimpses of her husband as he rode tall and proud with the rest of his knights.

The third dreary day passed into the fourth, fifth, and sixth, and they were drawing closer to Northwood. Jordan was glad. She was tired of the ride even though the twins had been good as gold and slept much of the time. But she was anxious for Northwood and for Jemma, and she still had not asked William what had become of her family. The time had never seemed quite right, for there had been so many other things going on, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know. Mayhap if could postpone the truth she could still keep her hope alive.

She was riding with William again on the seventh day. The sun was peeking in and out of the clouds, turning the ground into a steam bath every time its rays warmed the earth. During the morning, she and William had spoken of Lewis’ fate and Adam’s new title. Although she should not have rejoiced over the death of a man, secretly, she was glad Adam had killed his brother. She had more reason to hate Alexander than almost anyone.

The ride progressed and the mood turned jovial, and Jordan was laughing as she listened to Michael and Deinwald complain, to Deinwald pick on Ranulf, to everyone teasing Corin. The knights had even managed to pull Roan and Sir Broderick into the revelry, being quite cruel to them in a good-humored sort of way.

The small caravan was passing through a particularly dense section of forest when she felt William stiffen behind her. He abruptly reined his destrier to a halt.

“What is it?” Paris was beside him.

William was scanning the trees. Paris followed his gaze, studying the landscape, but saw nothing. After a moment, William relaxed somewhat.

“Nothing,” he said. “Jordan, please go back and ride with the babes.”

She twisted around to look at him. “Why?”

His hands were already on her, lowering her to the ground. “Just do as I ask, love. Just for a little while.”

With a shrug, she gathered her skirt and picked her way through the muddy road until she reached the carriage. Seeing that she was safely inside, William lowered the faceplate on his visor. Paris saw him and was alarmed.

“What is it, William?” he asked with quiet urgency.

“I do not know yet,” William replied. “This gauntlet of road unnerves me. Tell the men to be alert.”

Jordan was in the carriage and did not see the knights sling their shields over the left knee, nor did she see the faceplates go down. The men-at-arms put their hands on the hilts of their swords.

The column began to move and she busied herself by cooing to Troy, who was grinning happily back at his mother. He had nearly doubled in size since his birth and had surpassed his brother in weight. Byron sat opposite her, next to the busty wet nurse, remarking how much this son looked like his father. Jordan proudly agreed.

She was first aware of trouble when the carriage suddenly jerked to a halt and she heard William shout something she didn’t understand. Alarmed, she moved to pull back the oiled cloth when the side of the carriage was pelted violently with something that sounded like falling rocks. She didn’t even imagine that they were arrows.

Her first thought was to protect her sons. She and Byron put both boys on the floor of the carriage and surrounded them by heavy blankets, pillows, and anything else they could find. Not a word was spoken between them, but the wet nurse began to cry and Jordan pulled the woman onto the floor as well. She was scared out of her mind but she knew that William would protect them.

This was exactly what William had feared. The stretch of road through which they were passing was a perfect spot for an ambush and he suddenly found himself defending against an onslaught of screaming soldiers. He saw archers in the woods and ordered his archers to take out the positions, but strangely, he saw no knights on horseback. In spite of that, however, he knew immediately that they were heavily outnumbered and he maneuvered his steed toward the carriage.

“Go, man, go!” he roared to the two soldiers driving the horses.

The men obeyed immediately, slapping the frightened team with the reins and cracking the whip into the withers. The carriage lurched several feet forward, only to be slowed by an onslaught of enemy soldiers. William and the other knights drove their destriers toward the carriage in an attempt to clear the way and set the rig free.

But it was difficult to get close with so many soldiers in the way, all swinging their swords in a frenzy. William found that he actually had to use his shield as he fought back, using the pressure of his knees to guide his horse toward Jordan and his sons.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a man on horseback dressed in bright, shiny armor. He jerked around to get a better look and was neither surprised nor dismayed to see that it was none other than Daniel de Troiu charging toward them.

“Damnation!” he spat, furious.

Paris was off to his left and beheld the same sight. “William!” he shouted. “De Troiu is after Jordan!”

William knew that; God in Heaven, he knew it. His anger brought him incredible strength as he tore through enemy soldiers as if he were slicing though butter. Yet he could see that de Troiu’s soldiers were creating an effective path through their mass for the earl to pass through, directly to the carriage. The earl was taking great pleasure in approaching the carriage where his target lay. Somewhere above all of the shouting and screaming, William managed to roar Jordan’s name to warn her.

Jordan heard him and her heart went into her throat. Why had he called her? Sweet Jesu,’ was he calling her with his last dying breath? She stood up and peeled back the oiled cloth with shaking hands.

There was a war going on around her and she cried out when the sight met her eyes. She could see William, several yards away, fighting furiously, trying to part the sea of men to get to her. The other knights were also engaged in fierce battles, but it seemed as if they were also trying to reach her. Everyone was trying to move toward her. Why?

De Troiu was nearly at the carriage and William knew that he would not make it in time to defend his wife. He was fighting as hard as he could, spurring his animal bloody in his attempt to reach her, but he was not going to make it. He had a crossbow tied to his saddle, but in order to get to it he would have to lower his shield and leave himself vulnerable. There were so many enemy soldiers that each of his men were grossly involved in their own fights, and there was no one to protect his back as he retrieved, cocked and aimed the bow. No matter. He would have to take the chance. That bastard would not get his wife. Fighting off panic, he struggled to release the bow.

Jordan was startled silly when the door to the carriage suddenly ripped open and she almost fell out. A gauntleted hand reached down and grabbed hold of her hair, but she fought and kicked and screamed like a banshee, scaring the twins awake, and they began crying. Thinking quickly, Byron maneuvered himself enough to be able to reach into his bag, withdrawing a sharp dagger. He managed to grab one of Jordan’s flailing arms long enough to press it into her palm.