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She shook her head and put the hand that was on his chest to his mouth. “Dunna ask me what is wrong. Ever. I beg ye.”

He could smell the lavender on her fingers. Instinctively, he reached up to grasp her hand. Her palms were sweating.

“Then answer me and I will not ask again.”

Honestly, she could not think of one rational thing to tell him. There were too many worries fluttering about in her mind. The more he asked her, the more likely she might be to spill everything out. But she could see he was going to demand an answer until she gave him one.

She lowered her head. “I am tired, that’s the truth,” she said. “And I am….scared.”

He frowned, “What of?”

He still held her hand and it was distracting her. “Of everything, English, of my life to be. I dunna know what it will be like at Northwood and I am worried.”

“You worry too much,” he said. “I already told you that de Longley is a decent man. You need not fear him.”

“I dunna fear him,” she insisted. “I…just fear my future. Isna that natural?”

“Yes, providing you have a basis for that fear. But you do not.”

“How do ye know?” she scowled. “Ye are the captain of the troops. I am an enemy Scot. I do not belong. I will always be an outsider, even in my own home. I will have no friends, just my maids. I will be alone for the rest of my life.”

“I am your friend,” he said softly.

She looked up at him and her stomach fluttered wildly. His eyes were so kind and sincere she knew he was telling her the truth and she found her heart rejoicing at his simple statement.

“Are ye? Truly?” she asked, slightly breathless.

He nodded. “Unless you do not want me.”

“I want ye, English.” Sweet Jesu,’ did that come out wrong. She blushed to the roots of her hair and dropped her gaze. She heard him chuckle softly.

“Fear not, my lady. I know what you mean,” he said. “ ’Twould be most unknightly of me to assume otherwise.”

She grinned in spite of herself. “I spoke before I thought again.”

He sobered. “I hope not.”

She snapped her eyes up to him and she tore her hand away. No. No. No. She could not think these thoughts, these daft emotional thoughts. Sweet Jesu,’ she could not be strong if he were to encourage her in any way. He didn’t even realize her internal struggle, yet he was making it most difficult when he said or did things that broke down her resistance.

She spun away from him. “Dunna do this to me, English.” she whispered before she could stop herself.

William went rigid. Good God, why did she say that? And the way she said it. All of his control flew out of the window; he had to know why she said that. He was advancing on her when Paris suddenly appeared in the tent flap.

“My lord,” he said gravely. “You are needed.”

William moved to Paris, trying to regain control of his soaring emotions. He was at once glad for the diversion, but also angry Paris had entered before he’d had a chance to pursue her comments. Damnation, he was going mad.

“What is it?” he demanded harshly.

Paris was indeed serious; he didn’t so much as cock an eyebrow at William’s tone. “Outside, my lord,” he instructed.

William followed him. Jordan sank wearily onto the collapsible chair just as Sir Kieran entered the tent, smiling pleasantly at her. He took position by the tent flap, his gigantic arms folded across an equally gigantic chest.

Jordan sighed sadly. She should not have said such things to William; she could see how angry he had become. Thank God Paris had saved her from a sure scolding. She hoped he would be calm by the time he came back. At least calm enough not to strike her.

Jordan glanced over at Kieran. “Are ye to be my watchdog tonight?” she smiled. He really was devilishly handsome, with his flashing brown eyes and light brown hair. Not as strikingly gorgeous as William nor as sensual as Paris, but handsome in a very manly sort of way.

“Just until William returns, my lady,” he replied.