Page 66

“Jordan.” Jemma moaned. “Now ye have done it to me. I shall tell them yer nickname now, I will.”

“You have a nickname?” William asked with interest. “What is it?”

“Nothing, English,” she told him firmly, settling back down in front of him once again.

The arm around her tightened. “Tell me,” he said.

“I shall tell ye.” Jemma cried. “Uncle Thomas used to call her Pony-legs because she had such skinny legs.”

Jordan sank down low, humiliated in a good-natured sense. She did not want anyone calling her that, it had taken twelve years to outgrow the name.

“Do you still have skinny legs?” Deinwald wanted to know. “Let me see.”

William lifted his hand as if to backhand his knight. “Do not even think to look.”

“They’re not skinny.” It was Corin, riding back behind Kieran. The knights turned to look at him, wondering how in the hell he knew.

Corin looked rather embarrassed with all the attention on him. “I must confess, when she sat down today on the grass, I was blessed with a quick glimpse of the most beautiful legs I have ever seen. Ask Lewis; he saw them, too.”

Jordan was truly embarrassed. She had no idea she was being an exhibitionist. It was flattering, but embarrassing nonetheless.

William dipped his head next to her ear. “Is this true? Do you really have beautiful legs?”

“I dunna know,” she shrugged. “I have never given them much thought.”

“Now tell us Lady Jemma’s nickname,” Deinwald demanded harshly, interrupting his captain’s conversation. “I would know it now.”

She looked at the knight. “Uncle Nathaniel called her Waddles because she walked like a duck.”

The knights let loose on Jemma as Jordan smiled with satisfaction. William let them have fun at Jemma’s expense for a minute or so before demanding peace.

“I swear I have not heard so much talk,” he snapped. “You will be all silent until we reach the gates.”

They fell silent, but grinning and chortling between one another. Jemma, her cheeks flushed, was plotting revenge against her cousin until Kieran leaned next to her ear.

“You do not waddle,” he whispered. “I think you have a lovely gait.”

She turned to look at him. “Thank ye, sir knight.”

“My pleasure,” he sat straight, the conversation ended.

Jemma fought off a smile. It had been worth the embarrassment just to hear him say that.

*

It was soon after that the massive turrets of Northwood came into view.

Jordan’s heart leapt into her throat. They had arrived at their destination and she anxiously studied every detail of her new home. To see it now so real and massive before her was overwhelming and blocked out all else around her as she studied it. Here was her future.

The closer they came, the more apprehensive she became. Northwood was three times the size of Langton, a red-stoned fortress with a colossal curtain wall, a smaller inner wall, and massive gatehouse. She could see the top of an enormous keep with three big, square turrets that reached for the sky. It was black against the late afternoon sky, silhouetted like an evil castle from the horror stories she had heard as a child. It was everything dark and awful that she had ever imagined an English castle to be.

As the party drew closer, she could see that the whole fortress was surrounded by a moat filled with thick sludge and filth. She could already smell the stench from it permeating the air.

Her first thoughts were that Northwood was not a hospitable place and that it was everything she had hoped it would not be. From what she had come to know of William and his knights, she had somehow imagined that they would hail from a polished white castle with gold trim, not this clearly sullen structure.

“My lady is quiet,” William’s voice broke into her thoughts.

She prepared a brave reply but it quickly left her. “I think I am going to be sick,” she moaned softly.