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Oh… damnation, Jordan thought and swallowed hard. She did not want to do this alone.

“Show ’em what yer made of, Jordi,” Jemma whispered encouragingly behind her. “Yer a Scott.”

Her back straightened. She was indeed. Terrified or no, she would be the epitome of calm dignity even if her palms were sweating profusely.

“It’s time, my lady,” Deinwald leaned down. “Go ahead.”

She didn’t hesitate. She carried herself with such regal grace that William swore he heard an audible gasp from the crowd. Truth was, she looked like a fairy princess as she floated across the floor, right down the middle of the room as she headed for the dais where de Longley and his subjects sat.

William and Deinwald were not far behind her, trying hard not to watch her swaying backside. De Longley, given his first good look at his new bride, looked like a man who had been without food far too long. His interest was obvious, and William felt himself bristle. God help him, he could not stand the thought of anyone touching Jordan… not even her husband.

Jordan reached the dais and curtsied deeply. When she rose, she stood proudly before the table and waited for her betrothed to speak to her.

The earl cleared his throat. “Lady Jordan, welcome to Northwood.”

“Thank ye, sire,” she replied.

To his left, a young plain girl tittered, whispering something to the thin young man sitting next to her and they giggled impolitely. Jordan had expected open rudeness, but she still felt her cheeks grow hot. The earl ignored the laughter.

“Please,” he indicated the chair next to him. “Come and sit, and I will introduce you to your new family.”

William took her hand on his forearm and led her to the seat the earl had indicated, on his right hand. Jemma followed and was seated several chairs down. The rest of the knights, save Paris and William, sat directly below the dais at one of the large, lengthy tables.

Jordan smiled her thanks to William, who returned nothing more than a bow of his head and seated himself directly next to her. Politely, she turned her attention back to the earl.

The fat, flushed man with bad skin was looking her over like a prize mare. Jordan felt a little self-conscious at the scrutiny and tried not to return his stare. Instead, she kept her gaze lowered and waited for him to finish.

“I had no idea you would be so lovely,” the earl finally said.

Jordan did not know how to respond. Fortunately, he did not expect an answer.

“I only caught a glimpse of you in the bailey this afternoon, due to the unfortunate circumstances,” he went on. “I trust you have suffered no ill effects.”

“Nay, sire,” she replied. “Yer physician tended me and I am fine now.”

“Good,” De Longley replied. “Then allow me to introduce you to the rest of my family.” He turned in his seat and indicated the man seated directly next to him. “This is my eldest son, Alexander, Viscount Tarlinby.”

Alexander de Longley was a thin version of his father, with protruding teeth and a receding hair line although he could not have been more than four or five years older than Jordan. He gazed back indifferently, bored even.

“My lord,” Jordan nodded her head.

He looked away, finding the activities of the room more interesting than meeting his future stepmother.

The earl continued rapidly. “This lovely creature sitting next to him is my daughter, the Lady Analiese.”

Jordan was face to face with the plain girl who had laughed. She was pale, blond, and nondescript. “My lady,” she said nicely.

The girl’s eyes narrowed as if she had been uproariously challenged by the simple greeting. Jordan felt the open hostility like a slap in the face.

“I hope our food is to your liking here,” Analiese said thinly. “I heard that Scots eat nothing but human flesh, so I fear than you may not appreciate the civility of our cuisine.”

Jordan saw a petty, vain, spoiled child in front of her. She knew she could be as sweet as honey and never see any results. Women such as Analiese understood bickering and quarreling instead of kindness, plus the fact that she hated Jordan simply because she was Scot was indicative of that nature.

Jordan knew she should let it slide, but she could not. She had to let Analiese know from the beginning just who she toyed with.

“Yer witch’s cauldron has been feeding ye false information, Lady Analiese. We Scots stopped eating human flesh about the same time as the Angles did.” She smiled sweetly at her.

The earl coughed. Alexander’s head snapped to Jordan in defense of his sister, but Analiese was rising to the occasion.