Page 39 of Slow Burn Romance

“My lady,” he said. “We require your assistance.”

Jordan’s eyes widened. “Me? What can I do?”

He took her arm and gently led her over to where Paris stood with the peasant youth. “Tell me if you know this….person,” he said.

Jordan had to lower her head to get a look at the face; the child was looking at the floor. But it took her less than a second to recognize the features and her heart sank.

“Jemma Scott!” she exclaimed, yanking off the cap her cousin wore. Dark silky hair went cascading to the tiny waist.

“Aye, ’tis me!” Jemma crowed. “I told ye that I would follow ye. Dinna believe me, did ye?”

Jordan went rigid as if Jemma had just issued her a personal challenge. Her eyes bugged and her fists clenched and suddenly, without warning, she began beating her cousin with the cap she held.

“Ye stupid little wench!” Jordan yelled. “How could ye? How could ye do this?”

William grabbed her by the arms, pulling her away and fighting off the compulsion to laugh loudly. Paris yanked her cousin back out of the line of fire.

“Ladies, ladies!” Paris admonished sternly.

They ignored him, and the others as well. There was only the two of them and their spitting-mad anger.

“I told ye I would come whether or not ye took me!” Jemma fought against Paris’ grip.

“And now yer a prisoner, ye idiotic girl.” Jordan snapped back. “You always were a stubborn, stupid….”

“Aye, and it is yer own fault!” Jemma screeched.

“My fault?” Jordan was flabbergasted. “I shall hear none of that. I told ye to stay.”

“And I told ye I was coming!” Jemma countered.

William let them yell. People often said things in anger that one would never otherwise get out of them. Wisely, he stood silent while the two women raged. From what he could gather, this was either a sister or cousin of Jordan’s. They obviously knew each other well.

“Ha!” Jordan cried. “This is none of yer affair and ye canna stand to be left out, is all it ’tis. Ye’re jealous because I am going to be married.”

“Ha!” Jemma mocked her. “And it ’tis an English husband ye’ll be getting. I’d rather marry a pig.”

“ ’Tis the only mate that would have ye,” Jordan countered nastily.

Jemma shrieked and fought against Paris to let her go so she could take a swing at her cousin.

“You will cease!” Paris ordered to her, to them both.

Jemma twisted on him, her amber eyes flashing. “Ye dimwitted clod, treating me as if I were an animal!” With that, she drew back her small foot and kicked Paris as hard as she could square in the shin. When he flinched and loosened his grip, she plowed both fists into his abdomen.

Air escaped from Paris’ lungs as she knocked the wind from him. Stunned, but not senseless, he snatched her arm and twisted it behind her back before she could attack her again. He could not believe she had actually assaulted him.

“Why, you little witch! That hurt!” he said, more outraged than injured.

Jordan, her anger shifting from Jemma to Paris when she saw how he was manhandling her cousin, jerked free of William’s grip and dug her sharp nails into Paris’ forearm. They were all surprised to see docile Jordan turn into a she-cat with her cousin being threatened and Paris was completely unprepared for the knee to his armorless leg.

“Ouch!” he yelped in surprise.

William was highly amused to watch Paris on the defensive from two small women. But he took mercy on the man and pulled Jordan away, pinning her arms to her side. She was hollering in Gaelic and he decided he’d had quite enough. Shifting her, he managed to keep both of her arms pinned with one of his own while covering her mouth with her free hand.

“Silence!” he roared. “Both of you.”

He felt Jordan jump, but Jemma disobeyed him and was still cursing Paris in Gaelic. Paris slapped his hand over the offending mouth.