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Jemma was still full of venom. “Ye should see them.”

Kieran looked embarrassed and proud at the same time, if that was possible. He nodded at William to back up his wife’s statement. “My God, it looked like a battle.”

Jemma froze when she heard Jordan’s crying. “What’s wrong with her?” she demanded. “Why is she crying?”

William, leaning against the doorjamb, shrugged lazily. “She is having a tantrum. I am simply waiting until it subsides.”

“Is she hurt?” Jemma was very concerned, upset with William’s nonchalant attitude.

“Nay, not a scratch on her.” He held out his left hand clutching a big rat’s nest of hair. “But she left one of the women bald on one side.”

Jemma and Kieran stared open-mouthed at the prize. “Good for her!” Jemma crowed. “She’s a tough one when she sets her mind to it.”

Kieran chuckled, getting a better look at the hair in William’s hand. Then he chuckled again. “She did that?” he asked.

William nodded, noting the disbelief in Kieran’s question. “Aye, she did. And she was in the process of cracking a few ribs when I stopped her,” he tilted his head in Jemma’s direction. “How far did she get before you stopped her?”

Kieran shot his wife a reproachful glance and Jemma deliberately looked away from him. “She had punched one of them in the teeth by the time I caught up to them and was laying into the other one’s face when I pulled her off,” he said. “The one she slugged in the teeth, what is her name? Charlotte? Lost three teeth at least. There was blood all over the damn place.”

William, too, shot Jemma a reproving glance. “Kieran, I think we married a couple of ruffians.”

“Well, ’tis yer fault.” Jemma shot back. “Ye shouldna have encouraged them.”

“Encouraged them?” William repeated with disbelief. “We did nothing of the kind.”

“Ye were talking to them,” she fired back. “Ye should have ignored them and walked away. They are not worthy of yer attention, either one of ye.”

William and Kieran passed glances at one another; there was no use arguing. Then William realized that things had gotten very quiet inside his bedchamber. He put his ear against the door and listened, but heard nothing.

“Jordan?” he called softly. Hearing no reply, he rattled the latch again. “Jordan? Answer me.”

Nothing. His initial puzzlement began to turn to creeping apprehension. What if she had hurt herself and lay bleeding, unconscious, on the floor at that very second? She had broken quite a few things and he knew sharp edges were everywhere.

He shook the door harder. “Jordan, dammit, answer me or I shall break this door down.”

His wife did not reply. Seized with a great fear that she had somehow hurt herself, however unintentional, he took a few steps back. Bracing himself, he struck out a heavy booted foot and kicked the door at the stress point where the wooden bolt would have been. The door cracked and popped, but didn’t give.

“Kieran, help me,” he motioned for his second.

Kieran’s strength was incredible. With their combined shoulders, they charged at the door again only to hear it crack once more but still remain closed. Grunting with effort, they did it two more times before the bolt on the other side finally snapped and the door went flying open.

The two of them went stumbling into the room with their momentum as the door opened, stepping on glass and broken porcelain. William was gravely concerned for his wife and he immediately spied her on the bed, sprawled on her stomach.

He rushed over to her in a panic only to discover that amidst the screaming and yelling and crying, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Kieran was hovering over his shoulder as Jemma ran into the room.

“She’s asleep,” William said, relief flooding his veins.

“She slept through that?” Kieran asked in disbelief.

William straightened up and ran his hand through his thick hair. “Hell, man, I have seen her sleep through worse,” he said, moving back around the bed and looking at the mess. “Damn, she did a job on this room.”

“William, she’s all wet,” Jemma pointed out. “She will catch a cold.

He turned to look at his wife again, “Aye, I shall get her out of that surcoat. It’s ruined, anyway.”

“Why is she all wet?” Jemma wanted to know as Kieran grabbed her hand and gently led her out through the minefield of broken glass.