Knight of Passion Page 3

  “I have an errand of my own, as well,” Jamie added, surprising himself. “I have come home to marry.”

  Linnet’s quick intake of breath was gratifying.

  The queen clapped her hands. “How delightful!”

  “I have so many tiresome tales of my victories to tell,” he said, “that I really must take a wife.”

  The queen laughed, though she could not have understood the jest. Turning to Linnet, she asked, “What sort of lady should we find for our handsome James?”

  Linnet looked at him with her direct, ice-blue eyes and said, “I think he should please himself.”

  Oblivious to the edge in Linnet’s voice, the queen clasped her hands together and beamed at him. “Tell us, Sir James, what lady would please you?”

  “A dull English lady,” Jamie said, turning to meet Linnet’s steady gaze. “The kind who makes a virtuous wife.”

  Chapter Two

  Linnet dug her nails into her palms to fight back the sting in her eyes and kept her expression passive.

  A virtuous wife, indeed.

  How could Jamie be so cruel as to deliberately insult her? And to what purpose? Was it not enough that he deserted her five years ago without a backward glance? After swearing his undying devotion, he had left without giving her a single chance to explain.

  She’d had her reasons for what she did. Good reasons. Who was he to judge her? Jamie grew up in the bosom of a large and politically powerful family, with devoted parents who looked out for him. She had been a young girl with few choices.

  To take control of her fate, bold action was required. She did what she had to do. Jamie did not even try to understand.

  She had succeeded in avoiding marriage to that lecherous, devil-eyed Guy Pomeroy. And then, before Alain could marry her off to someone else of his choosing, she acted quickly to arrange a marriage for herself.

  Just like that, she got herself out from under Alain’s thumb. ’Twas most satisfying. Alain had been appalled and outraged in equal measure, but there was nothing he could do. The man she chose was too powerful. Her twin brother, Francois, had argued bitterly with her over the marriage, telling her she was cutting off her nose to spite her face.

  But it had been worth it. All her plans were falling into place. Except for this awful ache that pressed on her heart whenever she thought of Jamie Rayburn, there was nothing she would change.

  She stared at him as he spoke to the queen, trying to find the tender young man she once knew. This Sir James had the same long dark hair, the same striking midnight-blue eyes. Each feature was familiar; yet, he was not the same.

  He was all hard angles now. It was not just that his face was leaner, his body more muscular. Jamie always had the confidence and fearlessness he showed on the bridge yesterday. But before, there had also been a sweetness to him that he sometimes showed her. There was no trace of that in the man before her.

  He was telling the queen about yesterday’s events in the City. Apparently, he was unaware of Queen Katherine’s astonishing lack of interest in politics.

  The queen gave him a pleasant smile and picked up her skirts. “ ’Tis time for us to join the others for dinner.”

  “Your Grace, we must speak now,” Jamie said. “Gloucester will be here in two hours.”

  The queen stood stock-still, staring at him with wide eyes. “Gloucester is coming? Here to Eltham?”

  “Under the compromise with the bishop, your son is to travel to Westminster with Gloucester. However, they will be escorted by men trusted by both Gloucester and the bishop.”

  “You speak as if the king were a grown man and not a child of three,” the queen said in a pinched voice. “But if that is what they have decided to do, there is nothing I can do about it.”

  Jamie met the queen’s gaze squarely; they all knew she was powerless in this fight.

  “Shall I be permitted to accompany my son?” Since the Council had ordered a separate household be set up for the king, the queen could no longer presume she would travel with her son.

  “You are invited to come to Westminster,” Jamie said. “But it is suggested that when the king returns to Eltham a few days hence, you remove yourself to Windsor Palace.

  “You will be safe there from the turmoil here in London,” Jamie added in a softer voice. “The king will join you in just a few weeks, for the Council has decided Christmas Court will be held at Windsor this year.”

  The queen picked up her skirts again and brushed past Jamie on her way to the door.

  Usually it was Linnet who attempted to alert the queen to the risks and realities around her. Her friend, however, preferred not to hear about events she felt helpless to influence. If she could not avoid unpleasant news altogether, she pushed it aside as quickly as she could.

  Linnet drew in a deep breath and attempted to walk past Jamie as the queen had done, but he caught her arm.

  “What are you doing here, Linnet?”

  She jerked her arm from his grip. “I thought you did not wish to know.”

  “I have a duty to protect the queen from every sort of danger,” he said. “Tell me why you are here.”

  She glared at him. “Because she asked me.”

  She turned and marched toward the door. With his longer strides, he reached it first. He stood in front of it, arms folded across his chest, blocking her way.

  “Why did she ask you?” he said. “And why did you come?”

  “Because I am her friend, and she is friendless here,” she said, clenching her fists. “They have taken her only child from her care, and she cannot even choose his nursemaids. They treat her so poorly, it is almost as if they believe she is in league with her brother, the dauphin.”

  Linnet’s heart fluttered as Jamie leaned closer.

  In a low voice, he asked, “Is she?”

  “Of course not!” she said, taking a step back. “Our French princess was raised to never have an opinion, to avoid conflict at any cost, and to do exactly as she was told.”

  “That has served her well,” Jamie said. “I hate to think what you might be teaching her.”

  “I would not let her make the mistake of supporting the dauphin,” she hissed at him. “A poorer excuse for a king I hope to never see.”

  “So you are the queen’s confidante?” Jamie asked.

  “I am exceedingly fond of her, and I do try to advise her…” Linnet raised her hands in the air. “But when I warn her she must walk a careful line between Gloucester and Bishop Beaufort, she responds by asking what they are wearing now in Paris.”

  She took a deep breath and made herself stop speaking. With the news that Gloucester was about to arrive, she was out of her mind with worry about the queen. And then, Jamie’s pointed remark about virtuous wives had upset her further.

  “What you said was unfair,” she said, her eyes hot on his. “I never said you were boring. I merely said I did not want that kind of life.”

  His eyes sparked blue fire, and she had the satisfaction of breaking through his facade of calm control. Jamie could make nasty allusions all he wanted, but he did not expect her to speak directly about what happened between them five years ago.

  He clenched his fists and leaned forward, as if to shout in her face. She hoped he did. Instead, he stepped back. With his jaw tight, he stretched his neck, tilting his head from side to side.

  When he spoke, his voice was as calm as pond water. “We had best join the queen for dinner.”

  She refused to take the arm he offered. The walk down the stairs and the endless corridor took forever.

  “I am surprised you are still looking for a wife,” she said to goad him. “Surely you found another innocent virgin to seduce into marriage.”

  He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “I did not seduce you, as you know damned well.”

  “Hmmph.” She turned her head and tilted her chin up. She could not contradict him; that did not mean she had to agree.

  He released his grip on her arm and blew
out his breath.

  “What method will you use to get a wife then?” she asked as they resumed walking down the corridor. “Since you are unlikely to win her with your excessive charm, I assume you will have your family arrange it?”

  “That is the customary method,” he bit out. “But I have reason to hope Bedford or his uncle will suggest an appropriate lady.”

  He must have impressed Bedford, indeed, to have the royal family facilitating a match.

  “An appropriate lady, meaning a very rich one?” she asked in her sweetest possible voice. “And virtuous, of course.”

  The muscles of Jamie’s jaw tightened, and he kept his eyes straight ahead.

  “Rich and virtuous. Qualities to satisfy”—she paused over the word—“any man, I’m sure.”

  They had finally reached the hall, so she left Jamie without a backward glance and went in search of Edmund Beaufort. Young, handsome, brilliant—and unmarried—Edmund was the brightest hope of the next generation of Beauforts. And Linnet had an urgent need to speak to him.

  When she spotted him, she wanted to groan aloud. How many times had she warned the queen to avoid showing favor to this particular young man, above all others? But nay, Queen Katherine must go straight to Edmund with a bright smile, take his arm, and invite him to sit in the seat of honor beside her.

  Linnet could have slapped her for being so stupid. Nay, the queen was not stupid. She simply had a flirtatious nature. After a girlhood in a convent and marriage to the glorious King Henry, it was only now coming into bloom.

  Linnet would wager all she owned that Edmund Beaufort had been instructed by his uncle to woo the queen. No doubt, Edmund found the queen charming and pretty, for she was. But he was a Beaufort; it was a calculated move. If Edmund became the young king’s stepfather, he could yield untold influence on the boy for years to come.

  The prospect of that occurring would send Gloucester into apoplexy. If rumor of the queen’s flirtation with Edmund had reached Gloucester’s ears, that would explain why he had acted so rashly, raising that fervor in London.

  Nearly everyone else was seated, so Linnet hurried to take her place at the end of the high table. Ignoring the attempts of the men on either side to engage her in conversation, she kept watch on the queen and Edmund.

  The saints preserve her! The queen and Edmund were staring into each other’s eyes. When the queen fed Edmund an oyster with her fingers, Linnet put away her eating knife. She had to get Edmund away from Eltham before Gloucester arrived.

  Jamie, who sat at the other end of the table, was also watching the queen and Beaufort—with a sour expression on his face. Suddenly, his gaze shifted, and their eyes locked. Why did Jamie Rayburn have to be here now? She would not let the tumultuous emotions he provoked distract her.

  Nor did she intend to listen to any more of his damned insults. She broke the gaze and stood.

  She walked behind the high table and whispered her excuse in the queen’s ear. “If my dinner companion attempts to put his hand on my leg one more time, I am sure to cause a scene.” Raising her voice enough for Edmund Beaufort to hear, she said, “Will you forgive me, Your Grace, if I escape for a short ride?”

  “Of course,” the queen said, “if you promise to tell me later which one it was.”

  Linnet straightened and met Beaufort’s gaze before she left.

  Just outside the entrance to the hall, she stopped a squire. “Could you deliver a message for me?”

  The squire stared at her with wide eyes. “I am happy to be of service, m’lady. Anything you ask.”

  He sucked in his breath as she leaned closer. “Count to one hundred,” she said next to his ear. “Then go tell Edmund Beaufort I await him in the stables.”

  She straightened and put a finger to her lips. “Don’t let anyone else hear you give him the message.”

  As soon as the meal was finished, Jamie went to find Edmund Beaufort. The compromise that was reached last night would be blown apart if the queen made a fool of herself with Edmund Beaufort in front of Gloucester. After a quick search of the castle, he caught sight of his new squire, Martin.

  “Help me find Edmund Beaufort,” he said.

  The lad turned a bright shade of red. What was the matter with him?

  “Have you tried the stables?” Martin asked.

  “Why? Did you see him go there?”

  “He was heading in that direction,” Martin said. “He seemed in a hurry.”

  “Perhaps the man had the sense to leave on his own,” Jamie said, more to himself than to his squire.

  Martin cleared his throat. “I don’t believe his thoughts were on leaving.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Martin looked pained. “I cannot tell you.”

  God’s beard. “Then I shall find out for myself,” he spat out.

  Jamie wondered if he had made a mistake in taking on Martin as his squire. He’d done so only because the knight the lad had been serving died in France.

  As he stalked to the stables, his mind returned to Linnet—and her nasty remark about a wealthy and virtuous wife being sufficient to “satisfy” him. Perhaps he should have told her he also wished for a wife who could make him forget his name in bed. But only one woman had ever been able to do that.

  The moment he walked through the door of the stables, he saw the very one. Linnet stood with her back to him, stroking and talking to the white palfrey she had ridden on the bridge.

  He held his breath as she took the horse’s head between her hands and kissed its forehead. Now he knew why the horse would follow her through a riot.

  Jamie stepped into the shadows as Edmund Beaufort came out from the interior of the stable with a page who was leading his horse. Linnet turned and gave Beaufort a dazzling smile.

  So it was Linnet who had brought Beaufort to the stables. Jamie would have to ask Martin how he knew.

  “Thank you,” Linnet said to Beaufort. “Leaving Eltham now is the only wise course.”

  Beaufort took her hand. “Come with me.”

  “I cannot leave the queen alone with Gloucester,” she said, laughter tinkling in her voice. “He’d eat her alive and toss away the bones.”

  “Before I go, I must tell you,” Beaufort said, lifting her hand to his lips, “you are the most exciting woman I have ever known.”

  “I can hardly count that a compliment, sir, when you are but nineteen and have spent the last seven years as a hostage.”

  Beaufort laughed. “ ’Twas a gilded jail. I was not completely deprived of female company.”

  “Cavorting with dauphinists, were you? For shame. Just wait until I tell your uncle.”

  The blood roared in Jamie’s ears. He remembered how often he had been wrenched with jealousy in the weeks they were together in Paris. How many times had he watched other men approach her? Being in love with a beautiful woman had been hell on earth. He’d borne it without killing anyone only because he believed Linnet would never go with another man. Fool that he was, he had believed she loved him.

  Edmund Beaufort spoke again. “I do love the queen—”

  Linnet interrupted him with a snort.

  “But she is a bit… simple. If I could marry whom I wished, I would choose you.”

  Jamie wanted to vomit.

  “Was it your great-uncle Geoffrey Chaucer who taught you to speak with that silver tongue?” Linnet’s voice was laden with sarcasm.

  “If you were my mistress, you could advise me,” Beaufort said. “Think of all we could accomplish together.”

  “And I am sure listening to my advice is all you have in mind,” Linnet said, giving Beaufort’s arm what looked like a hard pinch. “Come, Edmund, you must be gone now.”

  Suddenly, Beaufort had Linnet flattened against his chest. With a wicked smile, he said, “My price for leaving is a kiss.”

  “Beaufort,” Jamie said, stepping out from the shadows. “The lady gives you wise counsel. You should go quickly.”

  The sc
oundrel gave a deep sigh before releasing her.

  “I beg you to consider my proposal,” Beaufort said in a low voice as he brought Linnet’s hand to his lips yet again. “ Adieu, ma belle. Adieu.”

  As soon as Beaufort went to join his men-at-arms waiting outside the stable, Jamie said, “I would advise you not to become entangled with Edmund Beaufort.”

  Linnet turned wide eyes on him. “Entangled with Edmund?”

  “I suppose you will say you were only flirting with him to protect your friend?”

  “Someone had to get him to leave.” She shrugged. “ ’Tis dangerous for the queen to flirt with Edmund, but there is no harm in my doing it.”

  “And if flirting is not enough to divert him from the queen, what then?”

  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him for a long moment. Then she turned and called out to two stable lads who were forking hay on the other side of the stable.

  “Could one of you saddle my horse for me?”

  Both lads came running. In the blink of an eye, the damned horse was saddled and ready.

  “When you see the queen, tell her I will meet her at Westminster tomorrow,” she said to Jamie as she pulled on riding gloves. “Don’t leave her alone with Gloucester.”

  Jamie followed her out and watched as the two boys jostled each other to help her mount her horse.

  When she was on it, Jamie asked through clenched teeth, “Where shall I tell the queen you’ve gone?”

  “I have matters to attend to in the City,” she said. Matters involving Edmund Beaufort and a bed? Blood pulsed in his head and hands.

  “Private matters,” she added, to twist the blade, “that are of no concern to you.”

  He watched as she galloped off after Beaufort on her white horse. Damn the woman.

  Chapter Three

  Linnet strode through the wool merchant’s house, her heart pounding in her ears. The smell of the river seeped through the walls and permeated the air, carrying with it a flood of memories.

  As she moved from room to room, she gave instructions to the clerk trailing behind her.