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“Are ye mad?” she hollered. “What were ye doing, trying to kill one another?”

William peered up at her, blinking his eyes against the sting. “Why did you throw wine on us?” he asked calmly.

Her eyes bulged and her fists dug into her hips. “Because yer no better than little peasant boys, rolling around in the dirt like pigs,” she said angrily. “You should be ashamed of yerselves, fighting in front of yer men.”

William pushed himself off of Paris, who grunted loudly at the shifting of weight. Both men picked themselves off the ground, noticing the crowd of smiling soldiers was dissipating.

“That will give them something to talk about for a while,” William remarked, wiping at his eyes.

“ ’Tis beneath my dignity to roll around on the dirt, William,” Paris bemoaned, straightening his askew armor. “Why didn’t you just throw a damn punch? ’Tis much more honorable to fight standing up.”

“You would have been on the ground anyway had I thrown a punch,” William said, then looked at flaming-mad Jordan. “You did not answer me. Why did you throw wine on us?”

“To stop ye,” she said as if he were the biggest moron on earth. “What on earth were ye two fighting over?”

He wasn’t about to tell her. From the corner of his eye he caught Paris’ attention and silently warned him to keep his mouth shut. As far as he knew, Paris would make good on his threat.

Paris, for his part, caught William’s warning, but he could not resist the urge to give his lord the scare of his life. Rarely, if ever, had he had a chance this good and the rascal in him took over.

“ ’Twas my fault, my lady. I insulted our great captain and deserved the punishment,” he said with mock sincerity.

William swore under his breath and fought off the urge to clamp back down on Paris’ neck again. Damn him. What did he think he was doing?

She scowled at Paris in disbelief. “Ye insulted him? What is the matter with ye, man. He’s yer captain. He could slit yer throat for such a thing. What a stupid thing to do.”

Paris was a little taken aback at the passion at which she defended William. He suddenly felt like a boy being scolded by his mother. His joke was backfiring and he was not at all pleased.

William was also surprised, and if he admitted it, flattered, by her loyalty. He knew Paris’ game and saw that it wasn’t working out as Paris had hoped. It was all he could do to keep from laughing in his friend’s face. Yet, before things got out of hand, before the game did in fact turn in Paris’ direction, he decided to hastily end the conversation.

“ ’Tis nothing you need be concerned with, my lady,” he assured her quickly. “Go back to the tent.”

She knew he was telling her it was none of her business. Pursing her lips, she let out a frustrated shriek before throwing down the jug and marching back the way she had come.

William watched her backside appreciatively, as did Paris.

“William,” Paris said softly.

“What?”

“If you do not take her for a lover, I will,” he said.

William didn’t look at him. “Over my dead body.” He followed her back into the tent.

*

The bath did wonders to ease Jordan’s nerves. Sitting in a huge cooking pot, she washed her hair twice with lavender-scented soap and scrubbed herself so clean that she was raw.

Her maids had helped a little, but she had chased them away as soon as she was finished soaping because she wanted time alone to herself to think. She could not do that with Maggie and Elspeth in the room; they chattered like two hens.

She wanted time to reflect. On what specifically, she did not know, but she wanted time to think about everything that had happened since leaving Langton. Sweet Jesu,’ so much had happened it seemed like she had lived an entire lifetime in two days. And it frightened her to know that on the morrow they would reach her new home of Northwood.

Northwood. The name sounded foreboding to her. It sounded like some dank, isolated place set far back from the real world. And what about William? Would she even see him once they reached their destination? And if so, what kind of relationship would they have?

She hung her legs out of the pot, thinking darkly that he would probably ignore her from that point on. Right now, he was forced to associate with her. But given the choice, would he still speak to her? Probably not, considering she had just poured wine on him. She was positive he thought of her as a nuisance and a troublemaker. And why shouldn’t he? She hadn’t given him any reason to believe otherwise.

Her heart was heavy. At Northwood, she would have no friends. She was terrified that her new husband would loathe and despise her and make her life hell, in spite of what William had told her about the man. Was she destined to be unhappy forever? Probably. She didn’t want to marry the earl.

She would be alone. She was already alone. The only reason she felt remotely safe was because of William. The man absorbed her fear and she trusted him completely, but she knew he was only doing his duty. He had told her so. She was angry at herself for being distressed over the fact that William wasn’t protecting her because he wanted to. It was because he had to. She wanted him to want to. She wanted him.