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“Come with me now or I kill your sons on the spot!” the helmeted man bellowed.

Jordan froze, recognizing the voice but not believing what she was hearing. She was stunned; de Troiu would go through all of this trouble to kidnap her? Was the man daft?

But her mind was working with lightning speed. She had a dagger clutched in her left hand; if she could get close enough to de Troiu she could kill him. With him dead, his men would retreat and countless lives would be saved. God, she hated the thought of killing a man. Killing and death made her ill; it always had. But this was a matter of life and death, and she would protect her sons and William at all costs.

But, in order to get close enough to the earl, she would have to mount up beside him. She ceased her struggles almost immediately.

“I will come with ye!” she cried in a shaky voice. “Leave my babes alone. I will come.”

De Troiu didn’t let go of her even as she willingly climbed aboard his destrier. Purposely, she mounted facing him.

His booty retrieved, de Troiu let go of her long enough to grip the reins and prepare for his escape. He had what he had come for and was jubilantly certain that when she returned to Deauxville Mount with him, she would want to stay. To hell with de Wolfe. In the end, he alone would have the final satisfaction of the Scot woman. The champion’s wife would be his whore, and William, if all went well, would be killed by the baron’s personal troops. ’Twould teach a lesson to all of England that Daniel de Troiu was not a man to be denied anything. But that was his last coherent thought before his captive turned into a cold, calculating killing machine.

Jordan flipped up the visor to come face-to-face with de Troiu’s sky blue eyes. They were the only part of the man that was vulnerable. What she had to do would take lightning speed and the courage of a lion. If she hesitated, she would be lost. Do it! Her mind screamed. Do it now!

Gritting her teeth, she brought the dagger around and plunged the blade as hard as she could into the earl’s left eye, smacking the hilt with the flat palm of her right hand. Cold, hard steel plowed through his skull, and carved into his brain. The searing pain and agony were cut off by near instantaneous death.

Blood spurted everywhere; all over the white skin of her neck and into her hair. De Troiu did not even have time to scream; he was dead before he hit the ground.

His soldiers, seeing that their lord was dead, began to scream ‘retreat.’ Jordan bailed off the rearing destrier and jumped back into the carriage, out of the way of the cursing, screaming, fighting men. At her feet, de Troiu lay in a growing pool of blood. His men were trampling his body in their attempt to withdraw. Sickened and terrified, she turned her face away and pressed herself into the cold wall of the carriage.

As fast as it started, it was over. De Troiu’s men retreated back into the woods like hunted rabbits, disappearing. Jordan turned her face long enough to watch them go, then immediately her eyes sought William.

He could get to her now. Driving his horse toward the carriage, William jumped off before the animal came to a stop and grabbed Jordan to him. She was gasping with panic, clinging to his neck with a death grip. Holding his frantic wife, he turned to his men.

“We move!” he bellowed breathlessly. “Take the wounded with us and leave the dead!”

William’s mind was like so much mud as he moved mechanically toward his horse, just wanting to mount and get the hell out of there. He could hear Paris and Kieran yelling orders around him to get the men and the carriage moving, but at that moment his entire world was on the shaking, sobbing figure in his arms.

“Love, you have to let go of me so that I might mount,” he whispered.

She continued to gasp loudly as if she hadn’t heard him. When he tried to put her down, she gripped him harder and would not release him. Paris rode up beside them and William turned to him, holding his arms out from his sides to show the captain that Jordan was supporting herself entirely on her own. Her arms were around his neck and her face was buried in them, her body trailing down the length of him. It was a pitiful sight.

There was no way in hell she was going to let him go.

“Help me, will you?” he pleaded to Paris in a shaken voice.

Paris vaulted from his horse and came around, trying to gently pry Jordan from William’s neck. She screamed and kicked at him, but between the two of them they managed to get William remounted and Jordan up in front of him. Hastily, the column moved forward.

It was an eternity before Jordan was rational enough to loosen her hold. Hesitantly, she raised her head from her protective ball and looked to her husband.

“Are ye all right?” she asked hoarsely.

He flipped up his visor, his gaze full of concern and relief. “I should be asking you that question. Did he hurt you?”

Her eyes welled up and her lip began to quiver. “I killed him.”

He could not stand it. He ripped off his helm and it clattered to the mucky ground. Somewhere behind him, one of the knights dismounted to retrieve it. His gauntleted hand grabbed her head and he kissed her furiously with the force of his relief. He had never been so scared in his whole life and he was so damn proud of her. Knowing her feelings about murder and violence, her bravery had been nothing short of astounding.

De Troiu’s blood was caked all over her, reminding her with every glance of what she had done. William was desperate to get his troops out of the woods and into the open where they would access their wounded and rest for the night. With de Troiu dead, there was little chance of his troops returning. He was also eager to get Jordan bathed and calm.

The movement through the trees went agonizingly slow with the wounded they were carrying. It took most of the afternoon but finally at sunset they broke through and into a vast, open plain with sweetly rolling hills in the distance. The sky was gray and threatening as they proceeded for a few miles before William ordered a halt.

Byron came forth from the carriage, bag in hand, and immediately began to order the wounded congregated. William had nearly forgotten the physician was with them and was greatly relieved to see the little man take things well in hand.

He dismounted, pulling Jordan off after him. She was dazed, he could see, as she pulled herself away from him.

“I must see to my sons,” she said wearily.