Infamous

by Virginia Henley

  An hour later, Guy de Beauchamp made an appearance in Jory’s dream. “Don’t you dare come near me, Warwick! Thoughts of tonight’s romantic wedding have conjured you and you are nothing more than a figment of my imagination.”

  “If you are just imagining me, why do you fear my nearness? It is your dream; you can control every element, including me.”

  “Liar! You always take control. They call you the Wolfhound because you are a notorious womanizer and a lecherous swine. Once I let you make love to me, I will never see you again.”

  His dark eyes licked over her like a flame. “Tell me to leave and I will. It’s your dream, Jory.” He held out his hand with his fingers closed.

  She had an insatiable curiosity to know what small treasure it held. She felt her determination waver and lifted her chin. “I shall allow you one kiss only. I’ve quite made up my mind!”

  In the morning when Jory awoke she found a white rosebud on her pillow. She refused to let her imagination take flight. It must have come from Joanna’s bouquet.

  It was inevitable that Joanna’s ladies learned of the secret marriage within the first two weeks. The princess was radiant, her glance languid, her words soft and gentle, her smile sweet, and her sighs blissful. Joanna walked on a cloud and it was obvious that she had fallen in love.

  Their idyll was shattered when Ralph’s first lieutenant came to him with the news that the de Clares had learned of his clandestine nuptial vows and had sent a messenger hotfoot to the king demanding that the marriage be declared null and void.

  “I’ll ride to Newcastle,” Ralph declared, “and put my case before your father. Surely the king will listen to reason.”

  His words threw Joanna into a panic. “Dear God, Father is not a reasonable man. He will have you arrested and order our marriage set aside. Then he’ll be off to France to fight a bloody war that could last for years. I must get a message to him before he leaves England.”

  “Joanna, write him a letter that will tug on his heartstrings and I will take it to him and plead your cause,” Jory suggested.

  “But he is in Newcastle, gathering his invasion forces.”

  “I’m ready for an adventure. What better place to find it than Newcastle, where every earl and baron in England will be gathered? John de Bohun will take his men-at-arms to join the king. I’ll ask him to give me safe escort. He will be eager for my company.”

  As Jory rode through the Midlands and then the Northern shires, she knew there was no more beautiful country than England. The meadows were blanketed by the wildflowers of April and the hills were dotted with newborn lambs. Jory was in her glory in the vast company of warriors all overeager to do her bidding and see to her safety and comfort. They paid such homage to her beauty, they appeared ready to barter their souls for one of her smiles.

  The northern air was crystal clear, like fine wine, and Jory drank it in, feeling as if she could breathe deeply for the first time in years. Excitement bubbled inside her. She had just witnessed two people fall hopelessly in love and she had become caught up in the breathless romance of it all. Jory was ripe for a love affair of her own and the thought of the adventure that lay ahead filled her with giddy anticipation.

  Jory threw back her crimson hood and swept into Newcastle’s Great Hall. She immediately spotted Lynx and knew she would have to diffuse his anger that she had dared to come.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Lynx demanded with a frown.

  “The de Bohuns brought me. I have an urgent letter from Joanna for King Edward. ’Tis a delicate matter she has entrusted to me.”

  “Newcastle is bursting at the seams. My men are camped outside the walls. You may come to my room while you explain yourself.”

  Jory stood warming her legs before his fire as she told him about the secret marriage of Joanna and Ralph Monthermer.

  “Christ Almighty, you actually intend to tell Edward Plantagenet that his daughter has married a bloody squire?”

  Jory raised her chin in defiance. “Ralph Monthermer is no less than the Earl of Gloucester and Hertford.”

  “Bones of Christ!” Lynx suddenly realized the consequences of the secret marriage. “The king will be incensed. You are a pair of willful little bitches! I forbid that you seek him tonight. Edward is in a towering rage over the Scottish situation.”

  “I thought the army was gathering to invade France.”

  “King Baliol of Scotland was ordered to bring his army. He has refused. He also has dismissed all English office holders and confiscated all lands and castles held by Englishmen. Is it any wonder the king is in a mad rage?”

  The look of defeat on Jory’s face and the mauve shadows beneath her lovely eyes had their effect. “You may have my chamber. I’ll have my squire bring you a tray, then you must get some rest.”

  Jory slept until noon the following day and awoke refreshed. Anticipating an audience with the king, she bathed and took special care with her appearance. She donned a pale green gown that matched her eyes and wore a cabochon emerald that swung in the valley between her upthrust breasts. She slipped a gold chain around her waist decorated by another emerald that rested in blatant invitation upon her mons. She brushed her silver-gilt hair until it formed a cloud about her shoulders.

  Her afternoon was spent in frustration when Lynx’s squire informed her that the king was closeted with his generals. It was early evening before John de Warenne emerged with Lynx.

  John looked down at her with appreciation. “Hello, Minx, your beauty grows lovelier each time we meet.”

  “Don’t indulge her, John. She is embroiled in deep trouble.”

  “All I did was bring a letter from Joanna to the king.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” John admonished. “There is trouble in Scotland. We are taking the army there tomorrow.”

  “Then after I speak to the king, you can give me safe escort to Carlisle. I shall go to visit my godmother, Marjory de Bruce.”

  “No!” Lynx growled. “Carlisle Castle will be overrun with the Earl of Ulster’s Irishmen any day now—no fit place for a lady.”

  “Then I shall go to our de Warenne castle of Wigton.” Jory smiled triumphantly. Wigton was only eight miles from Carlisle, where the Bruces were governors.

  “Good.” Lynx hid a smile. “You will be company for Alicia. I will save a place for you in the hall tonight for dinner.”

  An hour later, when Marjory entered the Great Hall she held the attention of every male eye. As she passed down the rows of barons and earls, she had a radiant smile for each of them and sweetly declined when they offered to make room for her.

  She glanced at the king’s carved chair on the dais and was disappointed to find it empty. Lynx was there however, and he sent his squire to get her. As she climbed the steps she saw that Lynx was talking with another man, who had his back to her.

  Jory stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened and her pulse began to race. Warwick! Her eyes lingered on the long, coal-black hair; then her glance swept over the impossibly wide shoulders and the ramrod-straight back. She clutched the squire’s arm, fearing she might faint from being in close proximity to the powerful devil who had the ability to steal her senses.

  The man turned to look at her and she felt her heart sink as she realized it was not Warwick. She recovered quickly; the young, darkly handsome male piqued her curiosity. His eyes glittered with interest, but it was not until he grinned that she recognized him. “Robert Bruce! I haven’t seen you in years.”

  “Even at seventeen you played hell with the hearts of all the Bruce brothers, including mine.” His hot glance licked over her.

  “You were a wild devil who teased me unmercifully.” She was openly flirting with him and felt the sparks ignite between them. He was no longer a youth, but a powerful Scots earl whose attraction was almost magnetic.

  Lynx purposely sat between them. “I’m sorry you did not get to see the king, Jory. He has declared war on Scotland. He and the entire army will leave
at dawn.”

  Her glance met Robert’s. “For whom do you fight, my lord?”

  “Robert Bruce fights for himself,” he admitted frankly.

  “He stands with us,” Lynx interjected. “He governs Carlisle Castle and will keep it secure for King Edward.”

  “I return there now, but when the fighting starts I’ll be over that Border to take back my Annandale lands and castles that Baliol confiscated and gave to my enemy Comyn.”

  The corners of Jory’s mouth lifted. “Since you go to Carlisle, could I persuade you to give me safe escort to Wigton Castle? My family has banished me there and I’m in sore need of protection.”

  “I warrant you could persuade me to anything, Jory.” His dark eyes smoldered at the thought of assuaging her sore needs.

  “Have a care. She is a willful little filly who will take the bit between her teeth at the first opportunity,” Lynx warned.

  “I’ll handle her reins with a firm hand,” Bruce promised.

  Marjory’s imagination went wild at the thought.

  Jory paced her chamber waiting for the hour of midnight. This would be her only chance to seek out King Edward and beg him to view his daughter’s marriage in a favorable light. Her pulse raced at the temerity it would take to enter his bedchamber and try to bend Edward Plantagenet to her will. If I think of him as a king, I will be lost. I must treat him as a man, and beguile him with my femininity, soft words, and sweet smiles.

  Jory slipped Joanna’s letter into her bodice; then she rubbed perfumed oil in the cleft between her breasts and positioned the cabochon emerald so that it would draw his eye to her bared cleavage. She brushed her hair until it shone like silk and covered it with a transparent veil.

  Jory picked up a small silver dish of sweetmeats and ascended to the high tower where the king slept. The guard on the door proved no match for her. “I am expected,” she murmured softly. “His Majesty has a taste for something sweet when he retires.”

  “I received no orders to admit a wench.”

  “He told me how vigilant you are…and how discreet. Here, let me give you a taste of what he likes.” She picked up an almond flavored sweet-meat and lifted it to his mouth. At the same time the tip of her tongue traced her lips. While his focus was distracted she opened the oaken door and slipped inside.

  Edward Plantagenet turned his leonine head toward the intruder. “Who is it? What do you want?” he demanded.

  She advanced into the chamber. “Your Majesty, it is Marjory de Warenne. I bring you a letter from Princess Joanna.”

  At mention of his daughter’s name, he glared at her angrily. “I’ve ordered this Monthermer thrown in irons! The swine has taken gross advantage. Gilbert de Clare has been dishonored and his family is outraged! The marriage will be set aside.”

  Jory went down before him in supplication and let the veil slide from her hair. “Sire, Joanna begs your forgiveness. She wants you to know the truth before others poison your thoughts.” She raised her lashes and saw that his eyes lingered on her breasts, then lifted to gaze at her hair. She saw his resolve waver and pressed her advantage. “Gilbert de Clare took me into his confidence when he knew he would not recover. Ralph Monthermer was his choice to succeed to the Earldom of Gloucester. He was his most valiant warrior who led the fighting men to victory in battle after battle. Gilbert trusted Ralph with his life and made him swear an oath to look after Joanna always.”

  As Jory reached into her bodice and took out the letter, she saw that the king’s eyes followed her fingers. “Joanna is deeply in love with Ralph Monthermer. He reminds her of you, Sire. All those he commands hold him in the highest respect.” She handed him the letter. “Her greatest wish is that you give Monthermer a chance to show you his mettle and his loyalty.”

  Edward reached out and raised her from her knees. Then he opened the parchment and read his daughter’s words.

  The moment he finished reading, Jory said fervently, “Tomorrow you go to war, Sire. Do not go into battle without forgiving her. Your love is so precious to Joanna.”

  “Your loyalty to my daughter is commendable. I shall send for this Ralph Monthermer and judge his worth for myself.”

  Jory dipped her knee and lowered her lashes to mask the triumph she felt. “Thank you, sire.” She knew she had tipped the scales in her friend’s favor and truly believed that Edward Plantagenet would now accept Joanna’s marriage.

  As she readied herself for bed she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She caught herself humming a merry tune and was amazed at how lighthearted she felt. The corners of her mouth lifted. Her encounter with Edward Plantagenet was behind her, but she knew very well there was another underlying cause for her mood to soar.

  “Robert Bruce.” She whispered his name. Jory was ready for more than a flirtation. She was ready for a full-blown romance.

  Chapter 16

  On the ride from Newcastle to Wigton, Lady Marjory and the Bruce indulged in a daring game. He treated her with rigid respect and in return her manner was cool and distant. This, of course, was a pretense they feigned in the company of others. The Bruce made certain they rode alone together every few hours so that they could secretly indulge in an outrageous flirtation. The things they said were seductive, intimate, and even shocking. They teased and toyed with each other, exchanging suggestive innuendos designed to titillate and provoke a sensual response. The game was doubly delicious because it was a secret they alone shared.

  At every rest stop he was there to lift her from the saddle. Since they were surrounded by others and did not wish to arouse suspicion, they exchanged only a few polite words. His touch, however, clearly told her that he wanted her. His daring fingers touched the sensitive underside of her breasts as his eyes, smoldering with lust, promised he would soon take what he wanted.

  Whenever his bold hands touched her intimately and his powerful arms lifted her from the saddle, she could feel the scalding heat from his palms seep through the material of her riding dress, and she became weak with longing. By the time they reached Wigton their days of foreplay had reached the point of culmination.

  Jory ran up to the ramparts, knowing the Bruce would follow. He strode to her side, his arms bare, his chest covered by a metal breastplate. Her head fell back as she looked up at him. “You look like a conqueror.”

  He reached out and wrapped a silver-gilt tress of hair about his fist. “Conquest is in my blood.”

  “Robert!” Jory was breathless with desire.

  His mouth swooped down and took possession of her lips. He felt her quiver, felt her arms entwine about his neck to keep her from falling. “Wrap your legs about me,” he urged.

  In a fever of need he carried her from the crenellated roof and swept her into the chamber she indicated. His arms felt so strong, she wanted them about her forever. The ache inside her spread from her belly, to her heart, and into her throat. She was filled with a raging desire to be mated, something that had never ever happened with her husband. With eager hands she removed her clothes while he stripped before her. She reached out hungrily to touch the musculature of his chest and found it as hard as if he were still wearing the breastplate.

  His upthrust cock was hard too, and she reveled in the feel of it as he rolled her beneath him and thrust up inside her to the hilt. He filled her with so much sexual energy, she went wild, clawing and arching and crying her pleasure with abandon. The Bruce’s mating was hard and savage and selfish, and Jory relished every passionate moment. In frenzy she bit his shoulder and the tide was turned instantly. From drowning in need she soared on the crest of a towering wave; then she shuddered uncontrollably with liquid tremors. With a hoarse cry, he spilled his white-hot seed up inside her. He rolled with her until she lay above him in the dominant position, her disheveled hair spilling to his chest.

  “I’m sorry I behaved like a great rutting stag, throwing you on your back and having my way with you.”

  She gazed down into his eyes. “Liar,
you are not sorry at all. You are triumphant!”

  He lifted her off his body, laid her beside him, and came up on his elbow. “Do you know why I am triumphant? I’ve lusted to fuck you since you were seventeen.”

  “Robert!” she protested. “We made love.”

  “Love? Nay, it was lust, pure and simple.” His fingers touched the delicate golden curls on her mons. “You have the prettiest cunny I’ve ever seen. I’ve imagined it for years.”

  Jory smiled a secret smile. This mating had given her a sense of power and confidence. I will make you love me, Robert Bruce. I’ll have you eating out of my hand before I’m done with you…and I’ll never be done with you!

  He took her again, and Jory marveled that she had aroused him so quickly. She exulted in the power she had over him. The moment he slaked his lust, however, he quit the bed and dressed.

  “Take me with you to Carlisle,” she tempted. His hand caressed her bottom and she thought he would take her. Then he slapped her bum and said, “Can’t be done.”

  Jory couldn’t believe her ears, and then realization dawned. “You won’t be staying at Carlisle, will you, Robert?”

  “Not for long. I’m off to topple a king from his throne. I’ll take back my castles and then Annandale and Carrick.”

  His ambition and hard resolve were so palpable they filled the room, blotting her out. She stood on the bed, forcing him to look at her. “You won’t stop there—you’ll try to take Scotland!”

  “You’re a clever wench, wheedling my secrets from me. I should know better than to let a woman close enough to read my heart.”

  Jory soon learned that she did not wish Alicia Bolton for her friend. They took their meals together, but spent their days in different pursuits. Alice attended her wardrobe and her person, embroidering petticoats, dying her hair, and drinking vinegar to keep off fat and make her lean. Jory also discovered that Alice hoarded a supply of pennyroyal, an herb that induced abortion. Alice is a bloody fool! Doesn’t she realize that Lynx would marry her if she gave him a child?