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On and on they continued, striking, parrying, counter-striking with unbelievable skill and accuracy. Early on, William was deeply impressed with Andrew’s abilities. There was no doubt in his mind as to why the man was called the Red Fury, and furthermore, he doubted that any of his knights could have bested the man. He was that good.

Back in the dining hall, the word began to spread like wildfire: The Wolf and the Red Fury were battling it out to the death. Paris was the first to bolt for the door, followed closely by the rest of William’s knights and then by the majority of the diners.

Jordan, Jemma and Caladora descended the stairs from the second floor, intent on returning to the dining hall, only to be nearly trampled by the stampede of people. They were clad in Scott tartan, traditionally dressed for the dance of swords. The dance was to be a surprise for their kin as a celebration, but they were alarmed at the flight of the diners, tearing out into the inner bailey. Instantly, they assumed the worst.

“Another attack!” Caladora gasped.

Jordan, a bit more rational than the other two, shook her head. “Nay, Callie, for if that were true, they wouldna be rushing outside. Something else is going on.”

But there was nearly no one left to ask. Jordan grabbed a serving wench who knew absolutely nothing and so, puzzled, the three of them proceeded outside to see for themselves.

A few sentries were standing congregated by the door. But their attention was to the northeast, in the direction of the training field, the knight’s quarters, and the stables.

“What goes on, man?” Jordan demanded, sounding remarkably like her husband.

The soldier looked down at her and his eyes widened. Not only was The Wolf’s wife standing before him, but she was naked but for slippers below the knee.

“A fight, my lady,” he stammered. “The Wolf and the Red Fury.”

Jordan’s eyes bugged and without so much as a thanks she gathered her skirt and took off at a dead run in the direction the soldier had indicated. The sentries found themselves riveted to the flight of slim white legs, indeed a rare treat.

Practically everyone at Northwood was crowded around the field. The three women tried to push their way through the crowd but, having no luck, decided quickly to mount the wall. That would give them a bird’s eye view of what was going on.

Jordan ascended the stairs like a madwoman, pushing and scolding soldiers who were not quick enough to move out of her way. She hit the top of the wall running, dodging men and equipment alike until she circled around the wall and was able to see what was happening. And what she saw shocked her.

Her husband and Andrew d’Vant were going at it like demons. They were grunting and groaning with the force of their efforts and Jordan could see the sweat dripping from her husband’s brow. Strangely neither man wore a helmet, so when the challenge had been issued, it must have been done with furious speed.

Terror seized her; why were they fighting? Was it for the flirting she had done with the Red Fury? William had threatened to kill him, had he not?

Sweet Jesu, she was responsible for this. Off to the side she could see Paris and Kieran, and the others, watching intently. Why weren’t they stopping this?

She could not stand it. She had to stop this before William killed the man, it never occurred to her that the Red Fury could kill her husband.

“William!” she screamed.

He heard her and faltered, allowing Andrew to land a particularly heavy blow to his back. When Jordan screamed at the hit, he put up his hand and instantly Andrew ceased.

He turned to look at his wife where she practically hung from the top of the wall, her long hair streaming down around her. He could see she was terrified and was instantly sorry he had frightened her.

“What is wrong, love?” he called back, leaning wearily on his sword.

Her mouth hung open. “What is wrong?” she repeated incredulously. “What in the bloody hell are ye doing?”

He grinned at her. “Fighting.”

She hung her head at the ridiculously simple answer. She could see that. Her head came up again.

“Cease this instant,” she told him. “Go back inside. We have a surprise for ye.”

Over a thousand people stood and listened to this exchange with a smile on their lips. If there was any doubt as to who Lady Jordan had truly married, it was now abundantly clear.

William looked at Andrew and they both shrugged in resignation. They would grant the lady’s request, even though they had been having a great time of it.

Yet something good had come out of it, each saw the other for what he was and a strong bond was forged. William respected the Red Fury for his skill and grace, and Andrew was overwhelmed at The Wolf’s cunning and strength.

The crowd disbanded and William met his wife at the base of the stairs. He immediately saw her attire and his eyes widened in shock.

“What is this?” he demanded, pointing to her pretty bare legs. “What are you doing?”