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She heard clanging of armor and turned to see he was removing his. She watched it clatter to the ground, piece by piece, until he was free of it He wore a linen tunic and dark breeches underneath, and she had to look away. Even through the clothes, he was magnificently built. The man was starting to boil her blood.

To her surprise, he knelt in front of her. She blinked with shock as his huge hands disappeared underneath her skirts and she felt him grasp her feet.

“God, Jordan, you are as cold as a corpse,” he swore softly.

She tried to protest but he ignored her. Removing her shoes, he pulled her feet onto his warm abdomen and nearly pulled her from the chair in the process. She gasped at the heat and at the surprise of his intimate action, but almost immediately she could feel thousands of little pin pricks as her feet began to gain their circulation. A fire could not have done any better.

She was soon warmed, yet she was stiff, thinking that her feet on his stomach was entirely too intimate and she knew a true lady would never allow a man to touch her so. For all of the righteous thoughts she was thinking, another part of her relented. After all, there was no one around to see them like this. She rather liked it.

William watched her lowered head with some amusement. He could imagine what she must be thinking. God’s truth, he wished he could put more than her feet against his bare skin. He fleetingly wondered if he dared go to bed tonight without his tunic on. But he put that thought from his mind, he could guess how she might react and he certainly did not want to be accused of trying to seduce his lord’s virgin bride. Virgin bride….

His smile vanished. He removed her feet and rose quickly, so fast that she lost her balance and would have fallen from the chair had he not reached out to steady her.

“I will see what is holding up your bath,” he said, leaving the tent before she could reply.

She frowned at the empty tent flap. Why did he always do that? Leave so abruptly, as if she had scorched him or something. He was so confusing she wondered if she would ever be able to anticipate him.

CHAPTER TEN

Outside, William was informed that the pot and the water were on their way. He nodded curtly just as Paris came up behind him.

“Jason fares as well as can be expected,” he commented to his captain.

William did not look at him. “I do not recall asking how Jason was.”

Paris moved so he could see William’s face, crossing his arms across his massive chest. He tried not to smirk; he was afraid William would throttle him the same way he had Jason.

“My lord is troubled,” he said, concerned.

William rolled his eyes and turned away. “God, not that again. Leave me alone.”

Paris could not help it and he started to laugh. William whirled on him, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he bit his lip.

“Damnation Paris,” William growled. “Shut your mouth.”

Paris choked a little, trying with effort to obey. “Aye, my lord.”

William caught on to his friend’s merriment and choked out a little chuckle, trying hard to remain angry but not succeeding.

“You know what I am going to do to you, don’t you?” William threatened.

Paris shrugged carelessly and leaned close so that only William could hear his answer. “If you do anything to me, I will run right to Lady Jordan and tell her everything.”

William’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Tell her what?”

“That you are in love with her and to watch out for The Wolf,” he stated smugly.

William’s eyes widened. Paris was grinning so confidently that he was seized with a sort of good-natured fury. How could he possibly know that, especially when William himself had no idea as to what he was feeling? How dare he be so smug.

His big hands reached out for Paris’ throat and the two of them slammed back to the damp ground.

Inside the tent, Jordan heard the thud and the grunting that followed and curiously went to see what was going on. Upon opening the tent flap, she was instantly horrified to see William and Paris rolling over the ground with their hands around one another’s throats, tossing and struggling in their quest to throttle one another.

Panic seized her; she had to do something or they would surely kill one another. Turning back into the tent, she looked wildly about for something to stop them. A sword? Nay, one of them would grab it from her and use it on the other. Then she spied the wine jug, rushed to it and snatched it. She ran back out to where William now lay atop Paris as he was turning his friend’s face blue. Jordan was mortified to see that a crowd had gathered but no one was doing anything to stop them.

Raising the jug, she doused them with wine for all she was worth. She didn’t know what else to do.

They ceased immediately; the wine stung their open eyes and William sputtered the liquid all over Paris’ face as it coursed over his lips. Paris snapped his head away but was too late; wine went into his eyes and he shook his head like a wet dog.