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The kiss was only supposed to last a moment, but he was becoming consumed. He was a man whose life had never been anything but completely organized and controlled and he was unused to impulsiveness, especially like this. But he had to have her.

His hand was gripping her so tightly that he might be strangling her, but all he could think of was her honeyed mouth, her soft skin, the smell of Lavender in his nostrils. His kiss grew more demanding, silently ordering her to open wider, to allow him to do what he must in order to ravish her thoroughly. To his complete relief and dismay, she was responding eagerly.

He knew he had to stop. He hadn’t meant to do anything more than taste her but he was gorging himself, and when she started making little whimpering noises deep in her throat, he gave her a final lick and pulled away. He had to or he would have been a dead man. Hell, he was already ruined. He would never be able to kiss another woman again and not think of her.

Her lips were red, her eyes half-closed. Had this happened last night he would have bedded her without a doubt. His face was no more than an inch from hers.

“Does that answer your question?” he asked huskily.

She blinked at him like a woman coming out of a trance. Her eyes widened and she swallowed.

“Oh, English,” she whispered. “I liked that.”

“So did I,” he rasped, taking one final moment to gently stroke her face. He could not help himself.

Behind them, a familiar female voice was raised. William immediately slammed on his helmet and turned the destrier around, mayhap a bit too hard and the animal snickered a protest. They rode over to where Jemma was standing several feet away from the knights, her back turned to them and her head bowed.

“What’s this?” William demanded, his authoritative tone returned and not a trace of the seductive voice he had used on her just a half-second before. “Lady Jemma, get up with Kieran. I have no time for this foolishness.”

“She can ride with Paris,” Kieran’s helmet was on and his visor down. He sounded angry.

“I do not want a passenger,” Paris said frankly. His visor was down, too.

William was thoroughly angry. “I do not give a damn what either of you want. You’ll do as I say,” he looked down at Jemma again before closing his own visor. “Get on with Kieran.”

“No.” Jemma cried. Then she ran off.

Jordan had an idea as to what must have happened. Kieran was attracted to Jemma and when she kissed Paris he became incensed. It was all her fault. Behind her, she knew William was about to take their heads off and she twisted around to face him.

His visor was down. She reached up and raised it.

“Let me talk to Kieran,” she said quietly.

He frowned. “What in the hell for?”

“Please?” she persisted.

He glared at her but lifted her gently to the ground. Jordan made her way to Kieran and after a few words, he got down off the animal and stood in front of her.

William watched with a mixture of curiosity and irritation, wondering what she was saying to his knight. She looked completely at ease and her pretty hands gestured here and there. After a minute or so he saw Kieran nod his head slowly and Jordan smiled.

She walked back over to William and raised her arms. He lifted her back onto his lap.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“We can proceed now,” Jordan ignored his question. “Kieran will retrieve Jemma and catch up with us.”

William turned his head to see Kieran reining his destrier sharply in the direction Jemma had taken. Without another word he nodded to Paris, who gave the hand-signal to march. She heard Ranulf and Deinwald bellowing at the troops when they did not move fast enough.

Riding along once again, Jordan settled back against William with a contented sigh. His arm was around her waist and she noticed that she was becoming used to the hard jab of the armor.

“Now, my lady, you will tell me, what you spoke to Kieran of.” It was not a request.

She smiled, knowing he could not see her. “A very simple matter, sire,” she said. “It seems that Kieran was jealous that Jemma kissed Paris and….”

“Kieran was jealous?” William interrupted her with a jolt. “By God, I am not going to play house mother to a passel of lovesick squires.”

She twisted to look at him. “Aye, Kieran was jealous.” She matched his outrage. “How would ye feel if I kissed Paris in front of ye? Or Michael? How do ye know that I haven’t kissed Paris or Michael? And what does lovesick have to do with anything? I dinna say he was in love with her.”