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The revelation struck her like a slap in the face. She sat straight up in the tub and water sloshed over the side. Bloody hell, he was English. She didn’t want anybody, much less an English knight. But as soon as she thought it, another more forceful thought crashed in on the heels of it; he was the kindest, most handsome man she had ever met, English or not. He was a simple man; flesh and blood and emotions. English, Scot, no matter; feelings knew no boundaries.

Sweet Jesu.’ Jordan thought, closing her eyes and submerging herself up to her neck in the warm water. What have I done to myself? What a fool I am.

She dressed herself slowly, her mind a bog of swirling emotions. She sat in front of the brazier in a heavy linen shift and matching robe, so huge it was like wearing a coverlet, and ran a brush through her hair over and over as it dried. Her thoughts were a million miles away.

William chose that moment to enter the tent. One look at the angelic Jordan sitting by the brazier was enough to make him want to turn and run like hell simply to protect himself. But he could not, even if he were able; she looked so beautiful that he could not take his eyes from her.

“You are finished?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Aye,” she did not look at him. “I am. Please take the water away.”

Three soldiers rushed in at William’s signal and hauled the pot away. When they had gone, he walked across the tent to where she was sitting and paused a few feet away, opening a collapsible chair. She wondered what he was doing and when she did force herself to look at him, she saw he had set a large white bundle on his lap.

“You have not eaten,” he said. “I had Luke pack you some food.”

She didn’t say anything, watching as he unwrapped the bundle and exposed the contents of cheese, apples, a hunk of cold meat, and a half loaf of brown bread. She hadn’t realized how hungry she had been until she saw the food.

William watched her eat. She didn’t look at him once, nor did she speak a word. He was curious to know why she was so quiet, but imagined that it had something to do with the earlier fight. Maybe she was mad at him.

“Was your bath satisfactory?” he asked.

She nodded, tearing off a piece of bread and putting it in her mouth.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, feeling the least bit uncomfortable. If, in fact, she were angry, should he apologize? But why in hell should he? After all, she was the one who had thrown wine on him.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked before he could stop himself, and was immediately sorry as soon as the words came spilling out of his mouth. Men didn’t ask those questions.

Jordan looked up at him for the first time, her mouth frozen in mid-chew. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but quickly shook her head and lowered her gaze.

Now he was piqued. “Then why haven’t you spoken to me?”

She shrugged, breaking off a small piece of cheese. “I have nothing to say, sir knight.”

“To me or just in general?” he asked.

She put the cheese in her mouth, but her movements had slowed considerably. “In general,” she said softly.

He watched her move like an old woman, slowly, lethargically. All of the fire from not an hour before was gone. He wanted very much to know what was upsetting her.

“Enough, Jordan,” he finally said, quietly but firmly. “What is bothering you?”

Abruptly, she set the food down and stood up. “I am tired. I wish to sleep now.”

He watched her from his seat on the floor. “Not until you tell me what the matter is. We will stay up all night if we have to.”

She whirled around to him. “Are ye deaf? I said nothing. Can I go to sleep now?”

He scratched his head and stood up. “Are you angry because Paris and I were fighting? I could see that we had frightened you, but….”

“William,” she interrupted him in a low voice.

She had never called him by his Christian name. The way she said it was like a caress, so soft and soothing and disarming. Hell, he didn’t even know up until this point if she even remembered his name; she always called him ‘English.’ He wanted to hear her call him by his given name again. Always.

Jordan was looking at him with those mesmerizing green eyes and he felt as if he were being swallowed whole. She took a few hesitant steps toward him, putting her hand up. He stood stock-still, wondering what she was going to do with that raised hand, when it came to rest gently on his chest.

“Dunna ask me anymore,” she murmured. “Please?”

His brows drew together. “But if I have….”