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Kieran grinned, stopped, and scooped Jemma into his arms in a great swish of material. She squealed, half from surprise and half from delight.

“Put me down, ye beast,” Jemma smacked him on the shoulder. “I am no wench to be picked up at yer whim.”

“I would hate to see you break you neck,” he explained with a smirk. “This will alleviate the problem.”

William and Jordan were already halfway down the stairs, but Jordan was still turning around to see what was going on above her. She smiled because she knew Jemma was enjoying the attention immensely.

She stumbled a bit and William steadied her. “Careful, love, or you’ll end up breaking your own neck,” he chided her.

She looked at him with a faint smile. “Ye called me ‘love’ again. Ye’d better watch that, English.”

“I know exactly when I may and may not use the term of endearment. That is, of course, with your permission.”

She nodded graciously. “Ye have it. Do ye mean to say that ye do not wish to call me Pony-legs?”

“Nay,” he replied. They reached the landing and he stopped, waiting for Kieran and Jemma to catch up. “I like ‘love’ much better. I do not think of Pony-legs when I look at you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So ye think of ‘love’ when ye look at me?”

Jemma and Kieran were right behind them, still carrying her and her still protesting. They moved on to the last flight of stairs, but Jordan felt as if the question still hung between them.

“You weigh no more than a bird, Lady Jemma,” Kieran said in mock seriousness. “How can that be when you eat like a horse?”

Jordan laughed as Jemma unleashed insult after insult at him, telling him exactly what she thought of his comment. When the barrage died down, Jordan turned to Kieran slyly.

“What do ye think of her dress? Doesna she look beautiful?” she encouraged him.

“Aye, she does,” Kieran agreed and Jemma immediately shut up. He smiled at her. “ ’Tis lovely. Next time, however, borrow the dress your cousin is wearing. Then you can walk in front of me the entire day and I shall be forever content.”

William stopped and thrust a warning finger in Kieran’s face. “Be mindful of who you are speaking of.”

Kieran looked properly rebuked. “Aye, my lord,” he said, and William started walking again. “But your view is not the same as mine.”

William stopped again and jerked Jemma from Kieran’s arms. He actually looked angry.

“You will take Lady Jordan and I do not want to hear another word regarding her appearance,” he growled. “Move out.”

Kieran fought off a grin and did as he was told, taking Jordan’s arm and leading her the rest of the way down the stairs. William carried Jemma down the steps, his eyes never leaving Jordan’s swaying hips. It wasn’t that he wanted to see for himself but, by God, if Kieran was right. He just didn’t want Kieran looking at her.

Jemma was watching him. “Sir William, I do not wish to tumble to the floor below. Mayhap ye should watch the stairs and not my cousin’s backside.”

William looked into the amber eyes. “I am quite capable of descending stairs, my lady, without looking at them.”

Jemma nodded, giving him a knowing glance and causing him to raise a black brow to her. He would not justify her look with any sort of remark. The little banshee could speculate all she wanted, but she would never hear any sort of confirmation from his lips.

At the bottom of the stairs, William put her down and took Jordan from Kieran. He then led her through a maze of corridors in Northwood’s massive keep that eventually led to the grand foyer. It was virtually devoid of people, but off to the left Jordan could see the grand hall.

The hall was alive with light and music and people were everywhere, eating and milling about. She heard laughter and shouting and witnessed a particularly eager soldier pinch a serving wench right on the bottom. It struck her funny and she smiled. Somehow, all dining halls were filled with the same sort of people; how many times had she seen that within the hall of Langton? For some reason, she felt a bit more at home.

Deinwald and Michael were waiting outside the door and saw them approach. Deinwald beat Michael to Jordan’s side and gave the man a cocky smirk as Michael stepped behind him and took his place at Jemma’s side. Michael put his fingers together and flicked Deinwald’s ear, and the man flinched with a muted curse. William shot him a look to kill and both knights were immediately still.

The earl’s crier was just inside the door and noted her arrival. Tipping his head to the herald trumpet on the balcony above the door, a sudden horn blast pierced the room and everyone ceased their activity and looked eagerly to the door. This moment had been three long months in the making, the introduction of the earl’s new Scot bride. Expectations were high.

William leaned close to her ear. “Do not be nervous. They will love you.”

She tried to smile but her lips were quivering with anxiety. The crier began to name her, listing her father and his title. The Lady Jordan Mary Joseph Scott, daughter of Laird Thomas Scott of Clan Scott. The hall was deathly quiet by the time he finished, waiting to see the source of their curiosity. Much to her dismay, William let go of her arm and she looked up at him in alarm.

“You must go alone, my lady,” he told her. “We will follow close behind.”