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  “Come,” he said glumly.

  The door creaked open, revealing Jordan. The woman was clad in blue wool, her dark blonde hair, with some gray in it, wound up at the back of her head. Even at her age, her skin hardly showed it. She was still a beautiful woman. But Paris glanced at her, disinterestedly, before returning his focus to the hearth.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  Jordan eyed him, knowing he was unhappy with her, unhappy in general. Her husband wasn’t speaking to her at the moment, furious that she still intended to push the idea of Jemma on a man who had just tried to kill himself. He didn’t think it was appropriate, or even wise, but Jordan felt otherwise.

  Strongly enough to defy William.

  “I told ye I needed yer help with Jemma,” she said. “I must speak tae ye.”

  Paris sighed heavily. “Jordan, I cannot even help myself,” he said, irritated. “What makes you think I can help Jemma?”

  “Because she’s going through the same thing ye are, only worse,” she said, planning her words carefully. “Let us come tae the meat of the situation, Paris. Kieran has been gone these years and, every day, I watch a little piece of Jemma die. She talks tae the man every day, going out tae his crypt and speaking tae him as if he can answer her. Paris, ’tis different for a woman when she loses her husband. A husband brings strength and comfort and security. A woman is identified by the man she marries. Jemma no longer has any of that.”

  “I have my own problems. I cannot solve hers.”

  Jordan came over to the hearth and started to stir it up, throwing some peat onto the flame. She didn’t say anything for a moment, but it was calculated. She had a good deal to say but she simply wanted to say it in a way that made the most impact.

  “I remember when I first came tae Northwood,” she said quietly. “Do ye recall that trip from Lothian Castle? When ye and English and Kieran came for me?”

  “I do.”

  “And do ye recall when ye discovered Jemma had been following us.”

  Paris nodded faintly. “That was a very long time ago.”

  “It was,” she said. “But it was a glorious journey. We all came tae know one another. I came tae know my husband and his second in command; ye. I discovered Paris de Norville tae be a man among men even if he was annoying at times. And Kieran… I came tae know a gentle giant. Someone once told me he ripped men’s heads from their shoulders in battle.”

  A flicker of a memory crossed Paris’ eyes. “That is true,” he said. “I saw it for myself, several times.”

  “But he was always so kind and gentle tae women and children.”

  “That is because Kieran had a soft side he wasn’t afraid to let anyone see.”

  Jordan thought of the big man they all missed so much. “That took true courage,” she said. “But on that journey tae Northwood, when we were all coming tae know one another, something happened at that time I never told ye of. I never even told English.”

  He looked at her, then. “What? God, don’t tell me that you intend to bare your soul to me now, after all these years.”

  That sounded like the Paris she knew, a flash of that impatient, arrogant man she knew so well. She looked at him, a smirk on her face.

  “It had tae do with ye.”

  “What did?”

  “The secret.”

  “What secret?”

  Jordan looked him over. He looked tired and unshaven, and his blond hair had turned completely gray, but the Paris she knew was still there.

  She could sense it.

  “I’ll tell ye if ye promise not tae repeat it,” she said. When he simply lifted his shoulders as if he didn’t care one way or the other, she continued. “Do ye remember when we were traveling tae Northwood, after Jemma joined us, that William put ye in charge of her? He even made ye sleep with her.”

  That drew a bit of reaction from him. He shifted in his chair and rolled his eyes. “Of course I remember,” he muttered. “Ungrateful wench. Every word with her was an argument, every request a battle. She made my life miserable.”

  “Ye know why, don’t ye?”

  “Of course I do. She’s Scots. That is reason enough.”

  Jordan shook her head. “That’s not why,” she said. “It was because… because she fancied ye, Paris.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in and when it did, he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Fancied me?” he repeated, aghast. “You’re mad if you think that. She fancied me no more than she fancied a boil on her arse.”

  Jordan shook her head firmly. “Ye’re wrong,” she insisted. “She told me so. She told me that the only reason she allowed Kieran tae court her is because ye never asked her. Do ye not know when a woman fancies ye, Paris? Ye had her in yer hand but Kieran snatched her away. And ye let him.”

  Paris was prepared to discount this horror of a story she was spinning. In fact, he looked at her with something of a snarl on his face, thinking how utterly ludicrous it was. But remembering back to that time, when he had been Jemma’s escort on the journey that brought a very young Jordan to England to marry his liege, the Earl of Teviot, he could indeed recall some attraction to the fiery dark-haired lass. She was pretty and brilliant, but her unruly tongue and his unbridled arrogance was a recipe for disaster.

  Banshee…

  He even remembered the first time he’d called her that.

  Well, my little banshee, it seems that you and I are to be constant companions.

  It had been the moment William had assigned him to watch over Jemma, who had followed the English army south because she had wanted to come with Jordan. It had been her own foolish idea to follow and she’d been caught following the army dressed like a lad. Paris had discovered her and she’d kicked him, and he’d said a few nasty things to her purely out of spite when William had assigned him to watch over her.

  I will be seen with no peasant washerwoman!

  Oh, how he remembered Jemma’s face when he’d said that to her. The mere memory of it made him smile because she was so easy to taunt. It was the first smile on his face in weeks. In fact, taunting her had become a game to him because she was such an easy target for his insults.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have done it, but the journey to Northwood wouldn’t have been nearly so fun if he’d restrained himself. But there had been moments when she settled down and he’d felt… something. He wasn’t even sure. Perhaps it had been attraction, but Kieran had taken to her so quickly that there hadn’t been time to pursue it.

  Once Kieran declared his interest, the game was essentially over. Kieran was very big and very protective over his lady, so all of that fun Paris had teasing her had become a thing of the past. Even now when they saw each other, he never really spoke to her unless he had a reason. Out of respect to Kieran, he’d treated Jemma as an acquaintance and nothing more, even though his son Apollo had married her daughter, Moira. Their children made them related, and Paris had married her cousin Caladora, but that’s where it ended. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to Jemma.

  A lonely widow just like he was.

  Odd how that concept hadn’t even occurred to him until now.

  “She must have been drunk when she told you that she was ever attracted to me,” he finally said. “Jemma in her right mind would have never said such a thing.”

  Jordan shook her head. “She was very much attracted tae ye until Kieran came along. I canna believe ye never realized it.”

  “I never realized it because it isn’t true.”

  “People show their attraction in different ways. Ye never even gave her a chance, did ye?”

  That brought him pause because it was a true statement. Now, he was becoming confused. Confused and just the least bit intrigued.

  But it didn’t matter now.

  “That was a very long time ago, Jordan,” he said quietly. “Water under the bridge, as it were.”

  “The water has dried up.”

  “What do you mean
?”

  “I mean that she has never lost that attraction tae ye,” she said. “She told me so. She thinks ye cut a fine figure of a man, even now. I asked for yer help because Jemma is as lonely as ye are. Do ye think… Paris, do ye think ye would consider keeping company with Jemma? She’s alone… and ye’re alone… and I’d like tae see her smile again, even if it was because she’s slinging insults at ye. Only I dunna think they’ll be insults. They may even be sweet words.”

  He stared at her but, to his credit, he didn’t kick her out of his chamber. At least, not yet. It was a foolish and ridiculous fact that Jordan’s words actually intrigued him. Mouth hanging open, Paris finally shook his head.

  “Jordan, you cannot be serious,” he said. “Jemma… and me?”

  “Jemma and ye. Or would ye rather be alone for the rest of yer life?”

  “If I spend the rest of my life with her, it could be far shorter than I anticipated when she takes a dagger to me.”

  Jordan stood up, pointing to the window that faced north. “Ye were ready tae end it today,” she pointed out, rather firmly. But then, she eased up, hoping to convince the man this was for the best. “Paris, she needs a strong, intelligent man and ye need a woman ye can grow old with. Why not the two of ye?”

  Why not the two of ye? Those words rang in his head. He honestly couldn’t think of a good reason because it made all the sense in the world. Jemma was still a pretty woman. She’d grown a little round over the years, but he’d grown a little wrinkled, so that didn’t matter to him. She was still Jemma, a lass he thought was lovely from the moment he met her.

  Long ago.

  After a moment, he shook his head. “It is impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Because… because I’m an old man, Jordan. How can you expect me to start life anew? I was married once, but that’s over with now.”

  Jordan looked at him, incredulous. “That doesna mean ye canna have another wife. Many men do.”

  Paris was becoming agitated. He got out of his chair, pacing towards the window that faced north. “They do,” he agreed, “but they are better men than I. I lost Callie. But losing Jemma… God, even saying that sounds so strange coming out of my mouth. Callie was my wife and I loved her. But Jemma… she’s like the northern star. She’s constant; everything about her is strong and predictable. We do not speak much. After she married Kieran, there was no reason for us to. But when I think of losing her… it would be like losing a part of me. Just like losing Callie, or losing William, or even you. You’re all a part of me. That sounds strange, doesn’t it?”

  Jordan went to him, putting a hand on his arm. “It doesna,” she said softly. “Because it’s true. Ye and William and Kieran, and me and Jemma and Callie are all intertwined. The loss of one diminishes us all. But we all belong together. Jemma needs ye now, Paris. And I think ye need her, too. Just… think about it. ’Tis all I ask.”

  Paris didn’t have a ready answer for her. He wasn’t even sure how to react. He shook his head, then he nodded. He shrugged. It was a bag of mixed signals, but that was enough for Jordan. Patting his cheek, she headed for the door.

  “By the way,” she said, pausing as she lifted the latch. “William thinks this idea is madness. He thinks that ye and Jemma will kill each other, but I know better. If I were ye, I wouldna bring this up tae him, not now. He’s angry with me as it is.”

  He turned to look at her. “He knows?”

  “He does. So does Cassie.”

  Paris snorted softly. “My sweet Cassie,” he muttered, thinking on his youngest daughter who was very much like her mother. “What does she think about it?”

  “She thinks it’s a wonderful idea. And so do I.”

  With that, Jordan quit the chamber, shutting the door softly behind her. What she left in her wake was a man who, for the first time in a long while, actually had something on his mind other than his own misery. She’d planted a seed, which was exactly what she’d intended to do.

  A seed that would hopefully grow to fruition.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He never could stay mad at her for very long.

  William never did well when he was angry with his wife. He would stew for an hour or two and then break down to either apologize or do what he could to ensure their discord was resolved. He’d avoided the feast in the hall at suppertime altogether and went to the walls of Northwood Castle, his old haunt. Deinwald was there, as were his two sons, and the four of them stood together, looking over the countryside, speaking of anything but Paris.

  No one knew what to say on a sensitive and tragic subject.

  But that didn’t hold out for too long when Hector, Paris’ eldest son and the commander of Northwood Castle, joined them on the wall. He pulled William aside to speak of what had happened that afternoon, voicing his deepest concern for his father’s mental wellbeing. William was trying very hard not to tell Hector how to shepherd his father, but that’s what he ended up doing. William was so worried that something would happen to Paris after he left Northwood that he put a big burden on Hector to ensure his father’s safety.

  But Hector was way ahead of him.

  Hector was married to William’s daughter, Evelyn, and William had watched Hector grow from a skinny, red-haired child to a very tall man with a glorious head of red hair that women swooned over. Beautiful, petite Evelyn was four years younger than her husband, a lass who had her father’s coloring but her mother’s temper, and she wouldn’t allow her father to approach Paris about a betrothal with Hector until she personally won the man’s heart.

  It hadn’t been easy, as Hector had his pick of women in the north, but Evelyn had been clever. She’d also had her mother’s help and Caladora’s help, so Hector never had a chance. In the end, he’d begged to marry Evelyn while she feigned disinterest. William still laughed when he thought about poor Hector, thinking he’d almost been refused by a woman who had set out to capture him.

  But he adored and respected the man.

  Hector’s temperament was much different than Paris’, as he was calmer and more calculating. It took a great deal to get him agitated and, even now, as they discussed his father, he wasn’t particularly worked up, simply concerned and searching for a remedy.

  That’s when William told Hector of Jordan’s remedy.

  The information drew a strong reaction from the usually composed knight.

  After that, William left Hector on the wall to consider a world in which his father and his Aunt Jemma would possibly enter into a courtship as he headed into the keep. He was missing his wife and upon entering the great hall, was disappointed to be told that she’d eaten and departed. Most everyone in Paris’ family and the Earl of Teviot’s family had already retired for the evening, so William headed up to the chamber he and his wife always occupied when they visited Northwood.

  Jordan was already in bed. She was sitting up, sewing something by candlelight that he couldn’t distinguish. She was always sewing clothing for her grandchildren, boys who outgrew breeches and tunics too fast and little girls who liked to wear pretty things. He entered the chamber rather sheepishly, smiling timidly when she looked up at him.

  “Are posts set for the night?” she asked.

  That was his usual pre-bed routine at Castle Questing and he chuckled. “Hector and Deinwald have things well in hand,” he said. “They do not need me telling them their business.”

  “It was yer wall before it was theirs.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Pah. Northwood is as much yers as it ever was de Longley’s. I believe ye consider it yer home more than Castle Questing.”

  He shrugged, sitting down on the bed beside her. “Mayhap,” he said. “This is where I met you and where Scott, Troy, and Atty were born. A man can have more than one home in his heart.”

  Jordan set her sewing to her lap. She knew why he was here; it was written all over his face. He never could be angry with her for long and he’d come, in his own time, t
o make peace. Truth was, there was never anything other than peace between them so it came easily. Reaching out, she put her hand over his.

  “Paris needs ye tonight,” she said quietly. “Go and sit with him. I’ll be fine sleeping alone. In fact, I may stretch out all over the bed because I have it all to myself. It is a rare thing when we dunna have grandchildren sleeping between us.”

  William sighed faintly, taking her small hand in his big mitt and bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

  “I am sorry I became angry with you,” he said. “It’s just that today was a delicate situation.”

  “And ye dunna believe I handled it delicately?”

  “I believe you handled it the way you believed you should,” he said. “Mayhap it was the right way; mayhap not. I don’t know. I don’t pretend to know. But you were hard on him.”

  Jordan watched the emotion on his face, knowing he was torn up by the situation. “I handled it the way ye would expect me tae,” she said. “Did ye think I was going tae fall tae the ground, weeping over a man who tried tae kill himself? English, I was so very angry with Paris. Callie would have been furious with him. Since when is he not strong enough tae be there for his children and grandchildren? Would he really take the coward’s way out? That’s not like him.”

  William nodded. “He’s desperate,” he said. “Desperation will drive a man to do strange things.”

  “He needs someone else tae focus on other than himself.”

  “Jemma?”

  She nodded slowly but didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. But it drove the gentle expression off of William’s face and he let go of her hand.

  “I don’t know what to say to that anymore,” he said quietly, fighting off his annoyance and confusion. “I am going to go sit with Paris tonight. You know where to find me if you need me.”

  “Ye know where tae find me if ye need me.”

  He looked at her, giving her a lopsided grin at the way she’d said it; almost as if it was inevitable that he would. Blowing her a kiss, he quit their chamber.

  Paris was in the main portion of the keep on the fourth floor, in rooms he’d occupied for almost forty years. William had traveled these corridors for the better part of his life. He’d come to Northwood before he’d been fully knighted and he had been knighted by the then-captain of Northwood’s army, Kyle Winebald, in the great hall of Northwood. William himself had knighted countless other knights there, too, including the current Earl of Teviot, Adam de Longley.