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She smiled weakly and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Then her eyes closed and she drifted off again.

There was a knock on the door an hour later. William rose from the same position he had been in since his arrival and opened the door.

Jemma stood in the door way, flanked by Kieran. They were both solemn and quiet. William stepped back and allowed them entrance. To Jemma, he looked dazed.

“How is she?” she asked him.

“She sleeps,” he replied.

“The earl is on his way up, William,” Kieran said. “Mayhap you… you should not be here.”

William looked at his third-in-command, his mind clearing somewhat. Nodding shortly, he quit the room without as much as a glance in Jordan’s direction.

He didn’t even stop to think as to why Kieran suggested he should not be in her room; it never occurred to him that he knew about their relationship. They all knew, and fortunately they were thinking, where William was unable to for the moment.

As on the battlefield, they were sworn to protect and serve him always, even in unfamiliar matters of the heart.

*

Jordan was so hot. The sun was mercilessly beating down on her, roasting her alive. She tried to put up her hands to block the rays but every time she did something would slap them back down.

“No, you fool! Jordan’s running a fever and she’s delirious,” Jemma she yelled.

Fear surged through him like a bolt. He nearly ran Jemma over in his attempt to get to Jordan’s room.

She lay atop her bed covers, her face flushed. She was still for the moment but in case she should start to thrash again, he saw that her other maid was standing at the ready next to the bed.

William dropped beside the bed, his hand on her forehead. His heart sank with anguish; she was on fire. “How long, Jemma?”

“I awoke a half hour ago and she was sweating rivers. I dunna know how long she has been like this,” she replied.

He stood up. “We’ve got to cool her down.”

He went back through the antechamber and jerked open the door. There were three men-at-arms, trusted men, standing watch. William snapped orders to them rapidly; one to get the tub, one to get Byron, and one to send Paris to him. The men scattered to do his bidding.

Back inside the bed chamber, Jordan had begun to thrash again. He heard Jemma call out and ran to the bed, pushing her out of the way and grabbing Jordan’s flailing arms. She screamed something in Gaelic and he tried to soothe her, feeling so utterly helpless. He could think of nothing more than to pull her against him and pin her arms, whispering comforting words in her ear and praying she would hear him.

But Jordan was not about to be pacified so easily; she screamed and yelled and twisted about with strength he had never before seen in a woman. Yet he kept a constant stream of gentle words, hoping that somewhere deep in her delirium she would calm down.

His face was by her head. She felt him and, angrily, head-butted him so hard she split his lip and her scalp. He snatched her by the hair, holding her head still and all the while still speaking gently. Eventually, her struggling became less and less to the point where Jemma approached and dabbed William’s lip with a soft piece of soft linen. After a few more moments of tussling with her, she went limp once again.

“She is burning up,” he whispered to Jemma.

Jemma nodded, her eyes wide with fear. What if Jordan died? She could not even fathom it. She was frightened to the core.

The tub arrived and instantly the soldier, the two maids and Jemma were filling it with buckets of tepid water while William continued to hold Jordan’s hot body tightly in his arms. Paris arrived shortly thereafter and began driving the servants and Jemma like an Egyptian slave master.

“Damnation, where is Byron?” Paris ranted, kicking over a bucket that had been left on the floor.

William was holding Jordan, pressed to him like a rag doll, her head laying on his shoulder. He didn’t respond to the tirade. When the last bucket of water went in, Paris chased the soldier out and tore off his cloak.

“Get her in here, William,” he said quickly.

Jemma almost mentioned that her cousin still wore her linen shift, but stopped herself. Jordan would not like to be stripped naked in front of two men, even in her current state, so even if she were only a thin nightshift, ’twas better than nothing at all.

William gathered Jordan to him and took her into the antechamber where the others waited. Everyone positioned themselves around the tub as William held her out over the water.

“She’s not going to like this one bit,” Paris remarked, leaning over to better assist William.