Infamous

by Virginia Henley

  After dinner, Joanna dismissed Eleanor, Maude, and young Catherine Mortimer so she could be alone with Marjory. “I’m simply dying to know how you ended up with Warwick after he betrayed your trust five years ago.”

  “As it turned out, it was my uncle who betrayed my trust. My family deliberately deceived me into believing Guy did not offer for me and coerced me to wed Humphrey de Bohun.”

  “It must have been a staggering blow to Warwick’s pride that you turned down a powerful earl for an untitled, younger man.”

  “He’s strong enough to withstand a staggering blow. It didn’t deter him from pursuing me once I was widowed.”

  Joanna’s smile was sly. “When he came to pay his respects after Gilbert died and revealed he still had a prurient desire for you, I took great delight in telling him the merry widow was relishing her newfound freedom and had not the slightest interest in marriage.”

  “What a thoughtful friend you are.”

  Joanna ignored the sarcasm. “So when did he finally catch up with you and propose?”

  “I was the one who proposed and asked the infamous devil to marry me. To my delight, he couldn’t resist the temptation.”

  “My hat is off to you, darling. You are an expert at male manipulation.”

  “I didn’t manipulate him. I am deeply in love with him.”

  Joanna stared at her. “The sad thing is, I believe you. Why else would you marry a man who had killed off two wives? Jory, don’t look at me like that—you know my tongue gets carried away.”

  Jory’s smile was gentle. “I forgive you. I have a soft spot for people with flaws.”

  “Touché! Your barbs are far more subtle than mine.”

  “I should retire—”

  “No, no. Before you go, I’d like to ask a favor. How would you like another lady-in-waiting?”

  “I don’t have any ladies. I have only a Welsh woman who is rather odd.”

  “You are the Countess of Warwick, for God’s sake. You should have your own court. To start you off I’ll give you one of mine.”

  “You want me to take Catherine Mortimer off your hands.”

  “Damn you, Jory. I’d forgotten how shrewd you are.”

  “If the young beauty is willing, I’d love to have her.”

  “You are a good friend.” Joanna summoned a servant. “The Countess of Warwick needs hot water for her bath.”

  When Jory arrived at her tower chamber, she hoped her husband would be there before her. She feared that being closeted for hours with King Edward Plantagenet would be unpleasant, to put it mildly, and she was prepared to soothe and assuage Warwick’s dark fury in any way she could. When she found the chamber empty, she began to worry. She caught a glimpse of her anxious face in the polished mirror and began to laugh. If any man on earth was a match for the King of England, it was Warwick.

  A knock on the door brought servants with hot water to fill her marble bathing tub. She thanked them profusely and when they left she began to unfasten her gown. She heard another low knock on the door and when she opened it, there stood Catherine.

  “May I speak with you, my lady?” she asked shyly.

  “Come in, Catherine. I was just about to take a bath.”

  “Would you let me help you, Lady Warwick?”

  “Thank you. That is most kind.” She turned her back to Catherine so that she could unfasten her gown.

  “I would love to become your lady-in-waiting.” It came out in a rush as if it took all her courage. “Princess Joanna has been most generous to find me a place among her ladies, but I don’t fit in with Lady Eleanor and Lady Maude. They dismiss me because I am so young.”

  “So young and so vividly beautiful. You are a threat to them, Catherine. I shall have a word with Joanna and tell her that I would like to have you as one of my ladies.”

  “Oh, thank you so much, my lady. You are exceedingly kind.” Catherine hung Lady Marjory’s garments in the wardrobe, picked up a towel, and followed a naked Jory to her bathing tub.

  Guy de Beauchamp opened the door and strode into the chamber.

  Catherine gasped and flushed to the roots of her hair. She sank into a curtsy. “Lord Warwick,” she said faintly and fled.

  “You have a devastating effect on females, my love.”

  Guy didn’t seem to hear her. He stood transfixed at the vision before him. His wife was reclining naked in a black marble swan. In the languidly sensual pose, her lush breasts seemed to float upon the bathwater. Her golden-tipped lashes cast delicate shadows upon her cheekbones, and her full lips formed a little moue inviting his kisses. Her silvery hair cascaded over the edge of the tub to the carpet, tempting him to tangle his fingers in it and lift it to his face. He felt his cock engorge and begin to throb with desire. You have a devastating effect on males! Warwick was instantly, insanely jealous of every man who had ever glimpsed her naked beauty.

  “Joanna brought my prized bathing tub from Gloucester. I refuse to leave it behind again; I shall take it home to Warwick.”

  “Only a besotted male would take on the task of hauling a bathing tub seventy miles across country.”

  Jory smiled her secret smile. “Let me besot you.” She lifted the sponge and a rivulet of water cascaded down upon her upthrust breasts, making her nipples ruche into tiny pink pearls. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips in blatant sexual invitation.

  Warwick felt his control slip as his cock began to pulse wildly. His feet moved of their own volition and he was drawn inexorably toward the glistening wet nymph. All day his emotions had been in turmoil during his audience with Edward Plantagenet and he had made vows to himself based on those emotions. That his vows coincided with a pledge to the king was merely incidental.

  The sexual lust he now felt was increased tenfold by the bloodlust for Robert Bruce that had goaded him all day. He held himself in check as he watched her raise a slim leg and stroke the sponge down its enticing length. Her relentless cock-teasing was producing more than the desired effect, and Warwick knew if she went much further Jory might have reason to regret the savage lust she was arousing.

  Thinking to protect her, he moved away. When she reached for the linen towel that Catherine had dropped, however, he said, “I’ll do that.” It was not a request; it was a statement of intent. He picked up the towel, closed the distance between them, and held his arms wide. She swayed toward him and he wrapped her in the linen, lifted her from the water, carried her across the chamber, and stood her on the bed.

  Jory watched him open the towel and lick the droplets of water from her breasts with his tongue. Its rough texture sent a delicious frisson of arousal spiraling from her taut nipples down into her belly. She watched in fascination as he twisted the towel into a rope. He reached up, wrapped it around her neck, pulled her face down to his, then ravished her mouth with his tongue. When he finally withdrew, she was melting with desire.

  He slid the linen towel from her neck and twisted it tighter. “Open your legs, chéri.”

  Jory was more than ready to obey him; she was eager for his bed sport. When he began to draw the rope back and forth between her legs she wanted to scream with excitement. She threaded her fingers into his long black hair to steady herself and arched her mons toward him.

  Guy dropped the rope, cupped her round bottom with his palms, and slid his fingers into the deep cleft between her bum cheeks. He knew a raging need to devour her, but cautioned himself to give her pleasure, not pain. He dipped his head and blew on the golden tendrils that covered her mons. When she shuddered with longing, he thrust his tongue into her honeyed sheath.

  She felt the scalding heat leap from his mouth up inside her woman’s core and the fiery tendrils spread all the way up to her breasts like rivers of flame. His surging tongue ravished her with the same primal rhythm and hot sliding friction as his cock, and all too soon she was crying out her pleasure as she dissolved in liquid tremors.

  Jory felt Guy slide his hands down the backs of her legs and grip
her ankles. A quick tug brought her down to the bed, where she lay in a wanton sprawl, panting with anticipation at the passion she knew he was about to unleash. He stripped off his clothes and towered above her like a dark, powerful, and potent force of nature.

  Guy felt like a raptor, ready to sink his talons into the soft flesh of his helpless prey. He closed his eyes and willed the fierce emotions that consumed him to have pity on the lovely, delicate female who lay before him, completely at his mercy.

  His all-consuming love for Jory tempered his raging need. He wanted to bind her to him forever, and he was well aware that the surest way to do that was to focus on giving her a pleasurable experience. If he could delight, enchant, and gratify, not just her body, but also her mind and her senses, he stood a chance of keeping her.

  Her silver-gilt tresses spread across the purple velvet created an alluring picture he would remember forever. He plucked a damask rose from beside the bed and crushed it. His senses were drenched with its fragrance and he opened his fingers and watched the delicate rose petals drift down upon her flawless bare skin.

  Jory held up her arms in supplication. “Guy, come to me.” Her hands slid over the polished muscles of his chest and shoulders and she reveled in the feel of his full weight as he covered her with his hard body. That he was a true flesh-and-blood warrior who had been victorious in many battles thrilled her. That he was dark and dominant appealed to her ultrafeminine nature. That he was the infamous Earl of Warwick enthralled her. She slid her arms about his neck and wrapped her legs high about his back, yielding her softness to his marble-hard length. Her tight sheath closed sleekly around him and she gave herself up to the hot glide of his thick shaft as he moved in and out in a tantalizing slow rhythm that played counterpoint to the powerful beat of his heart.

  Guy de Beauchamp was drowning in need. Above all he wanted to obliterate her memories of Robert Bruce. He was fiercely determined to brand her as his woman and make her cleave only unto him. He wanted to possess her mind, body, and soul and was confident that he had the sexual energy and staying power to bind her to him forever. On top of all else he wanted to steal her heart and make her love him.

  Her climax built to an unbearable peak, and she thrashed her head from side to side and bit the powerful column of his neck to keep herself from screaming. His body rose and fell in rampant splendor and a surging wave of passion engulfed her and she cried out her pleasure as the night exploded.

  “Do you love me, Jory?” he demanded hoarsely.

  “I adore you, Guy!” She sighed with pure bliss.

  He crushed her in an embrace. “Will you love me always?”

  “Forever and always!” Her heart sang with joy.

  He held her tightly for a full hour after they had made love, his lips pressed to her silken skin, whispering love words that made her feel languorous, and lovely, and replete.

  She clung to him sweetly, knowing she had never been happier in her life than she was tonight. Intimately entwined, she fell asleep with her cheek pressed against his heart.

  Warwick lay awake, staring into the darkness as love and bloodlust warred within him. Now I know why she fears having a son. Kings are always desperate for male heirs, and she fears if she has a boy, that whoreson Bruce will come and claim him!

  When Jory awoke in the morning, Guy was dressed and ready to quit the chamber.

  “Once I take my leave of the king, I will be ready to depart.”

  Jory was acutely disappointed that her visit with Joanna could not be longer, but sensing that Warwick wished to leave Hertford and His Majesty’s presence as soon as possible, she did not demur. “I am taking young Catherine Mortimer as my lady-in-waiting. Her brother Roger was knighted with Rickard and I assume he too is with the prince’s army.”

  Warwick assented with a brief nod, too preoccupied with his future plans to converse about trivial matters.

  Jory joined Joanna and little Margaret for breakfast and when Catherine Mortimer arrived, she told her the news. “I asked Joanna if I could steal you for my first lady-in-waiting, and she has generously agreed, though she is most reluctant to part with you. Unfortunately, my husband has informed me that we must depart today and that doesn’t give you much time to pack your things. Would you like me to help you, Catherine?”

  “Oh, thank you, Lady Warwick. That isn’t necessary. I will be ready.” She rushed off to gather her belongings.

  “You do things with such finesse, Jory, trying to spare everyone’s feelings. I warrant that is derived from your own vulnerability that you keep well hidden.”

  “I’m truly sorry that my visit could not be longer, Joanna. For some reason my husband has decided we shall leave today.”

  “And the infamous Warwick must be obeyed at all costs.”

  Jory smiled. “Though I did the proposing, I still promised to obey him when we exchanged marriage vows. I’m not afraid to challenge him, but I assure you that Warwick is master of his own household. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “Well, ’tis obvious he gave you a thorough bedding last night. Warwick has no doubt taught you that men’s mouths are good for more than kissing and their pricks for more than pissing.”

  “My doggie pissed on the carpet,” Margaret declared.

  “That’s all right, darling. He’ll soon learn better manners.” Jory gave her friend a quelling glance. “For shame, Joanna.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Margaret’s too young to understand. There’s no need to apologize for leaving. The all-powerful, fire-breathing king has no doubt ordered him to ready his men for war. Edward Plantagenet is feeling his mortality and is impatient to reconquer Scotland and bring it to heel.”

  Warwick won’t take his men-at-arms to fight in Scotland, no matter the king’s orders! “Margaret, why don’t you come with me while I pack? Perhaps I can find you a present among my jewels.”

  “I like jewels that sparkle,” Margaret declared.

  Jory smiled. “You thought she was too young to understand.”

  When they entered the tower chamber, Jory saw that her bathing tub had already been removed so it could be put on a baggage cart. She placed her jewel case on the bed and opened it up for Margaret’s perusal.

  The little girl immediately pointed to the black onyx brooch with its amber eye. “Doggie!”

  “Yes, that’s Brutus, my husband’s black wolfhound. I’m rather attached to him.”

  Margaret soon lost interest in favor of more sparkling objects. She reached out and touched the diamond swan, which had been Jory’s wedding gift from Humphrey de Bohun. “Pretty!”

  “It is indeed. Would you like to have it, Margaret? A pretty jewel for a pretty young lady!” Jory gazed at the freckles that bridged the child’s nose. Who better to have the de Bohun jewels? She pinned it to Margaret’s dress.

  “Go look in the mirror,” Joanna urged her daughter. “Only you would be so generous, Jory.”

  “She’s so sweet and innocent. It gives me pleasure.”

  Two hours later, when everyone was mounted and ready to leave Hertford, Jory said her goodbyes to Joanna, Margaret, Eleanor, and Maud, while her brother thanked Ralph Monthermer for his hospitality. Catherine, mounted on her sure-footed Welsh Border pony, fell in beside Lady Warwick. After a few minutes, Lynx’s squires rode up beside them and Jory introduced Catherine.

  She urged her palfrey forward to ride beside her brother. “Tell me, Lynx, how did you get out of the king’s call to arms?”

  “Basically, I stalled for time. I didn’t refuse his demands, nor did I accept them. I pointed out that John’s de Warenne fighting men were now serving under Pembroke. I confess I led him to believe I would consider sending my own men-at-arms, when in fact I will not consider it under any circumstances.”

  Jory gave him a smile of approval. “That was most shrewd.”

  Lynx observed his sister’s smile with mixed emotions. At the moment she was happy, but he guessed that happiness would be wiped away
when she learned that her husband had agreed to take his Warwick men-at-arms to reconquer Scotland and drag Robert Bruce from the throne.

  Before they went to Hertford to the audience with Edward Plantagenet, Lynx had been almost certain that Guy de Beauchamp would refuse the king’s call to arms. Warwick’s abrupt about-face was puzzling, but it was his decision to make. Lynx worried about what Jory would do when she learned of that decision. He knew better than to take sides between husband and wife. He would never interfere in their private, intimate relationship. Would Jory acquiesce to her husband’s will or would she rebel? Lynx knew his sister’s mercurial temperament and feared that she and Warwick were about to collide.

  Chapter 25

  When the travelers arrived back at Hedingham, Jory watched her brother turn his horse over to his squire Thomas and stride toward Jane, who was awaiting him at the castle door. It warmed her heart to see the affection the two shared. Taffy helped her and Catherine to dismount and gallantly offered to stable their mounts. Jory gave the squire a radiant smile, then glanced quickly at Guy to make sure he didn’t mind, since he usually enjoyed lifting her from her saddle. Warwick, however, was speaking with his knights and seemed oblivious to her.

  “Don’t unpack the baggage cart. We will be returning to Flamstead in the morning.” Guy led his horse into the stable.

  Jory lamented his decision, since her time visiting with Jane had been so short, but she swallowed her disappointment and took Catherine into the hall to meet her sister-in-law.

  “This is Jane de Warenne, my brother’s beautiful wife. She is without doubt the sweetest, kindest lady I have ever known. Jane, this is Catherine Mortimer, the youngest daughter of one of the most powerful Welsh marcher barons in England. Catherine has graciously consented to be my first lady-in-waiting.”

  “I am delighted to meet you, Catherine. Jory set me a glorious example of how to become a lady. She taught me everything I needed to know. It was most daunting to realize that someday I would become a countess, but she has instilled me with confidence and quieted all my misgivings.”