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Jordan’s jaw ticked and she pulled her silk bed robe closer about her as she watched Jemma dry her own hair. She was so angry at her cousin but, truthfully, she was glad as well. Now it seemed that she would not be facing her future alone.
“Does Aunt Lilith know ye’re here?” she asked.
Jemma shook her head. “Nay,” she replied. “I told no one. Except, I think Caladora might have guessed.”
Jordan shook her head. “Poor Callie. She will be lonely without us.”
Jemma brushed slower. “I know. But ye need me more than she does. She has our kin and ye are all alone.”
Jordan smiled a little. “Ye’re a good soul sometimes, ye know? Even if ye are daft.”
Jemma looked at her. “Then ye want me here?”
Jordan nodded in spite of herself. “Aye, I do,” she said. “But ye had better behave, especially with regard to the knights. They do not play games, Jemma. Believe me.”
Jemma nodded thoughtfully. “The big man with the dark hair, William? Is he The Wolf?”
“Aye,” Jordan replied, feeling a strange warmth in her belly. “He is a gentle man. Kind, too.”
“He is a brute,” Jemma sniffed.
Jordan sat down and watched her cousin finish with her hair. Her thoughts were pensive, lingering on William.
“Do ye want to know something?” she said softly. “I think that he would do anything I asked of him.”
“Why?” Jemma asked, perplexed.
Jordan shrugged. “I dunno. ’Tis a gut feeling I have, and the actions I have seen from him,” she tried to explain. “I bet I could get him to do most anything.”
Jemma smiled mischievously. “What would ye bet?”
Jordan caught on to the game immediately and grinned. “I would bet my burgundy silk surcoat and cloak, the one you love so much,” she said confidently.
Jemma stopped brushing for a moment. “Ye would?” she exclaimed. “Ha. I accept. What will ye have him do? It has to be most humiliating.”
“Wait,” Jordan cautioned. “Ye have not told me what ye will bet should ye lose.”
Jemma thought quickly. “I have nothing with me, so ye may name yer price if and when ye win.”
Jordan shook her head. “Nay, I shall name my price now. Ye have to be nice to Sir Paris should I win.”
“What?” Jemma was outraged. “Be nice to that beast?”
Jordan smiled. “That is the price.”
“Very well,” Jemma waved begrudgingly. “So be it. Now what will ye have The Wolf do?”
“I dunno,” Jordan said. “But I will know when the time is right. I will prove to ye that I have power over these English knights.”
Jemma smiled jubilantly. “What a wonderful thing,” she said. “If it ’tis true, then I shall bow humbly before ye as the greatest Scott that has ever lived. The Scott that will finally bring the English to their knees.”
Jordan’s smile faded. She did not want to conquer them, only prove an arrogant point to her cousin. But Jemma still saw this entire situation as a war.
“We are no longer at war with them,” she said after a moment. “I would not be cruel in my humiliation. Simply a joke.”
“Not be cruel? Why not?” Jemma demanded.
“Because the knights of Northwood have been kind to me,” Jordan said, and shot out of her chair with much more passion than she had intended. “These men have been patient and generous for the most part and I will not be heartless in return; not even to satisfy yer bloodlust.”
