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William knew Paris was more experienced with battle injury. Rigidly controlling himself, the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life was hand Jordan into Paris’ waiting arms.

Paris fled to the keep. William resisted the urge to run after them as he turned to his men, now joined by the rest of his knights. Around them, the courtyard was quickly becoming a chaotic mass.

“The arrow must have come from the north tower of the keep from the angle of it,” he said, his composure returning quickly as he became the captain again and not the panicked lover. “Deinwald, take some men and cover every inch of the northeast tower and the wings below it. Kieran, Adam, Marc, to me. The rest of you with Deinwald.”

Broadswords were in hand as they raced to the entrances that would lead into the keep. Once inside, they split up and began a systematic search of the keep and adjoining turrets.

At least three dozen men-at-arms joined them in their quest. Heavy bootfalls echoed through the rooms and corridors as they secured the four-storied keep room by room and nook by nook, leaving nothing undone or unsearched. Even an unfortunate servant using the garderobe was rousted. Doors were thrown open and people were terrorized as the knights searched for a killer.

With Deinwald in charge, it was a loud and rough operation. He was exceptionally efficient and possessed a cunning and tactical mind, but his manner, as always, left something to be desired. He scared more than one servant woman into tears and had Michael corral everyone they came across so no one could escape interrogation. As William swept in from the west side of the keep, Deinwald swept in from the east so they could bottle up any assassin hiding in or fleeing from the north tower.

William was quieter and more efficient in his investigation than Deinwald’s loud actions, but he was by far more brutal. Not only did he have Kieran detain anyone they came across, but he had the man bottle them up in a small windowless chamber that was usually used for storage. Worse, the room was completely dark, so those who were being detained were existing in utter blackness.

There were reasons for his behavior, of course. He had become unforgiving and cold, an efficient machine of a man whose sole purpose was to discover who had injured Jordan. He was fairly certain that if he discovered the unfortunate knave he would run him through before words of accusation could escape his lips. With every step, he was becoming more and more determined to kill first and talk later. He didn’t even want to know why they did it; he already knew and his punishment would be swift.

At some point, they ended up on the fourth level of the keep near the north tower. Marc was on the third level guarding William’s prisoners while Kieran and Adam were flanking William in his search. They could hear Deinwald nearby, yelling at someone, and they knew their search was drawing to a close. Whoever had done it must either be trapped or in their custody. There were only two rooms left at this level. They were closing in.

William threw open the door of the first room, entering sword first. It was a bedchamber, normally used by guests, and he sent Kieran to the last unsearched chamber while he and Adam tore the chamber apart. A wardrobe was ripped to shreds and still they found nothing. As they were preparing to upturn the bed, they heard Kieran’s shout from the next room.

William and Adam raced next door. As they neared the chamber entry, they could see Deinwald and Michael running at them from the opposite direction. William was through the door first, spying Kieran over near a second doorway that led to a small corridor between chambers, normally used by servants. As William approached, he could see that Kieran was crouching beside a prone body. He had a dagger in his hand.

William pointed at the corpse. “Who is it?” he asked. “Did you do this?”

Kieran shook his head as he rolled a man, dressed in the clothes of a man-at-arms, onto his back.

“He was dead when I found him with this dagger stuck in his ribs,” he replied, holding the dirk aloft to show William. Then he threw a thumb over his shoulder, back into the servant’s passage. “Someone had propped him up just inside the door and when I opened it, he fell out.”

William surveyed the body, the room, and the rather elegant dagger before returning his attention to the corpse. “I do not recognize him. Do you?”

Kieran nodded. “I have seen him,” he said, peeling the man’s tunic apart as he began to search him. “I do not know his name.”

Deinwald eyed the corpse closely. “I do,” he muttered after a moment. “His name is Scully. His brother was killed last year in the same battle that nearly killed William. This man was a troublemaker.”

William glanced up at him. “Enough to make an attempt on a Scotswoman’s life?”

Deinwald could only shrug. “Perhaps,” he replied. “Surely this does not surprise you, my lord. It could have been this man, or another man, or any number of them. I fear this will not be an isolated incident.”

Kieran, who had been searching the dead man’s tunic and clothing, suddenly pulled forth a necklace from inside the man’s undergarments. As he held it up, they could all see that it was a gold necklace with large, rough-cut emeralds. It was an exquisite piece and Kieran looked at William, puzzled by the trinket.

“This is not the usual possession of a soldier,” he commented.

William stared at the jewelry. “Nay,” he said slowly, “it is not, but it is the possession of a woman of some wealth.”

Kieran said what they all were thinking. It was far too obvious. “A woman that perhaps does not want a new stepmother?”

William looked at Kieran for a moment, their gazes locking before emitting a grunt of disgust and realization.

“Aye,” he muttered. “A woman like that. I did not believe her capable of stooping to that level but I suppose anything is possible. Pay a man enough, a man who recently lost his brother to the Scots, and he will do her dirty work.”

Kieran handed William the necklace. “What will you do?”

William stared at the very expensive piece of adornment. He didn’t have an answer. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving his men in stunned and repulsed silence.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jordan came out of her haze when Paris laid her upon the bed. She could hear Jemma crying and struggled out of her unconsciousness to reassure her cousin.

“Be still, my lady,” Paris’ voice was soft but firm. “You must lay still.”