“You are always insightful. Now, do you want to know the terms?” She drew in a sharp breath as he paused to flick his tongue over her still-sensitive nipple. “Or shall we end it here?”
He could not be sure if that was a flash of hurt in her eyes or just surprise. Regardless, he was not making the mistake of showering her with romantic professions of love this time. Nay, he was a wiser man. And he was out to win.
“I cannot say,” she said, lifting an eyebrow, “until I know the terms you propose.”
“First rule: no other men during the course of our affair.”
She must have felt at a disadvantage lying down, for she sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Then no other women either.”
“Agreed. Rule two: When one of us wishes to end it, we will simply advise the other.”
She rolled her eyes. “Will it be sufficient just to tell the other person, or must this be done in writing?”
He smiled. “Either method will do.”
“Any other terms?” she asked, sitting straighter and sounding very prim.
“Just one more.” He held her eyes as he ran his finger slowly down the length of her arm. “I know there are herbs you can take to prevent conceiving a child.”
“ ’Tis no guarantee,” she snapped, then turned her head to glare at the tapestry on the wall—a particularly gruesome one of a bleeding saint with a chestful of arrows that was unlikely to help her mood. In a low voice, she muttered, “Just like a man, thinking a drink of herbs could be foolproof.”
“All the same,” he said, keeping his tone easy. “Will you do it?”
He did not want her to feel trapped into marrying him. Nor did he want to always wonder if a child was the only reason she did so. There would be time for children later.
“I don’t want you thinking I did it on purpose, should something happen.” She lifted her chin. “Still, you need not fret. If I did conceive, there are other herbs I could take that have a more certain effect.”
Her words sent a flash of anger through him that almost made him forget the game he was playing. Somehow, he managed to keep his features smooth and not shout at her.
“Or,” she said, “I could simply return to France without ever telling you.”
You could try, but I’d catch you before you ever made it to the damned ship. He gave her a broad smile that he suspected looked more wolf-like than complacent.
“Perhaps I will save us both a lot of trouble, Sir James, and end this.” She got down from the bed, scooped up his clothes from the floor, and tossed them at him. “I shall let you know what I decide.”
He ran his gaze over her slowly, wishing she was in the mood for another tumble. With an inward sigh, he watched her march across the room stark naked to grab his cloak from the back of the door. Her eyes were snapping as she turned and wrapped it tightly around herself.
Linnet was most definitely not in the mood for another tumble. Still, he had cause to be well pleased. Her fury was a very good sign.
He hid his smile as he dressed. Then he picked up the towel they had used earlier and began to wipe the mud from her shoes. Good Lord, where had she been today? They smelled of river marshes.
He did the best he could with them, then dropped to his knees beside her. “Here, give me your foot.”
She snatched the slippers from his hand and headed for the door. “Let us go.”
“Linnet,” he said, catching her arm, “what happened to you earlier, before…”
“Nothing happened tonight.” She turned and looked him in the eye to be sure he caught her meaning. “Nothing that mattered.”
As she stormed out the door ahead of him, he heard her say, “You bastard,” under her breath.
Jamie walked down the hall with her, cocksure of himself. He had Linnet right where he wanted her. Or soon would have. Ha! She would not hold out a day before she crawled into his bed again.
He would take his time, pretend he had no expectations for the future. His mistake before had been to pressure her and tell her exactly what he wanted. This time, he would worm his way into her heart until she could not imagine life without him.
It was like laying siege. It took patience. And steady bombardment helped, he thought with a smile. But eventually, the walls would be breached, and the gate opened.
By Saint Wilgefort’s beard, she was going to be his. Linnet would never even know how it happened. But when this was all over, Jamie intended to be her lover and her husband.
Chapter Thirteen
Linnet sat on the window seat in her solar, knees pulled up and chin resting on her arms, thinking dreamily of the last three days and nights. She let out a deep sigh, feeling more content than she could remember.
When Jamie arrived at her door the morning after their fight, she meant to slam the door in his face. But somehow… she could not.
The sight of him would turn a nun’s heart to mush. With eyes the color of deep-blue velvet, in striking contrast with his dark hair, and the strong lines and planes of his face, Sir James Rayburn was the sort of handsome that caused even staid matrons to turn their heads as they passed him on the street.
She’d had a weakness for Jamie Rayburn since she was a girl of fifteen, and it was not likely to change. There was something solid and reassuring about Jamie that drew her even more than his looks. He never boasted, but he walked with a confidence that said he was not afraid of any fight—and that he would choose the side of right, no matter the odds.
So when she saw him filling her doorway, the anger burning in her chest drained out of her into a puddle at her feet. She should have taken offense at the presumption of the bag slung over his shoulder. Instead, she appreciated the unambiguous message: Jamie had come to her house intending to stay.
Her skin had prickled as Jamie’s gaze burned over her, head to toe and back up again. Then, without a word, he had kicked the door shut behind him, grabbed her wrist, and headed for the stairs. She made not a word of protest. With an unerring sense of direction, Jamie passed the other rooms and led her straight to her bedchamber.
Her heart beat hard in her chest as he crushed her in his arms and gave her a deep kiss against the back of her bedchamber door. Soon, they fell to the floor. That first time, they never made it to the bed.
Three days later, she still had burns on her knees. But she was not complaining.
Francois had disappeared, and her two servants had the sense to stay well out of the way, so they had the house to themselves. They made love until they were too weak to move, then lay in bed talking and laughing. Each afternoon, they managed to go out for two or three hours to take care of their separate errands in London.
On the first day, she beat on Alderman Arnold’s door until a servant informed her that the family had left the City for their estate in Kent. She was told the same at the Guild Hall, so she let the matter rest.
For all her effort, she seemed no closer to discovering who was behind the scheme that destroyed her grandfather’s business. In time, she would find the alderman and force him to answer her questions. In time, she would discover the man behind it all. But just this once, she allowed herself to set aside the burden she carried. She let herself have this one gift, while it was offered.
Today was their last day in London, so she wished Jamie would hurry back from his visit to the bishop. She had returned an hour ago from meeting with Master Woodley.
At the sound of the door, she turned, a well of happiness surging inside her chest. But it was Francois, not Jamie, who walked into the solar.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“Here and there,” Francois said with a shrug. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at her. “But what has happened here? You seem… different.”
It could be trying at times to have a twin.
“Different?” she asked, to avoid answering his question. “How do you mean?”
“Happy. Content. You are never truly either, so something remarkable must have occu
rred. Did you murder one of the men you are after or…” He looked around the room sharply, then back at her. “ ’Tis a man. You’ve got a man here.”
Linnet folded her arms across her chest.
“Who is it?” His stern expression melted into a broad grin. “ ’Tis Jamie Rayburn, isn’t it?”
She shifted her gaze to the ceiling.
“Any other man, and I would feel compelled to beat him or some such thing. But Jamie is a good man.” Francois grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table, sat down beside her, and put his feet up. “You should have married him the first time around.”
“I assure you,” she said in a tight voice, “marriage is not on Jamie’s mind this time.”
“And this annoys you.” Francois cocked his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “How very interesting.”
He took a large bite of the apple with his straight white teeth. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he crunched it.
“I am not annoyed by it,” she said. “I have no time to have a lovesick fool dogging my every footstep.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Francois said between bites.
“I’ll slap that irritating little smile off your face if you do not stop it,” she snapped.
As soon as she said it, she knew she sounded exactly as she had at ten. When she met Francois’s eyes, they both burst into laughter. She could never stay angry with him for long.
After their laughter had died, Francois said in a quiet voice, “I suspect that if you want something more from Jamie Rayburn, all you need do is tell him.”
“Ha, that is all you know about it,” she said, flicking her hand in the air. “Jamie is quite content with things as they are. As am I. You know there are things I must do.”
No husband—particularly Jamie Rayburn—would allow her the freedom she needed to pursue her plans.
“For God’s sake, Linnet, leave it be,” Francois said, losing his easy manner.
“I just need a little more time.”
“Five years of your life ought to be enough.”
She had accomplished a great deal in five years, but she chose not to say it.
Francois took her chin in his hand and leaned close. “You are keeping something from me, aren’t you?”
She met his gaze without blinking. It was difficult to keep anything from her twin, but she was determined not to tell him about going down the hidden passageway and finding the witches’ cabal. Jamie had goaded her into telling him most of it, and that had caused her enough grief. She did not need a second scathing lecture.
The fact that she had come away from the adventure unharmed would not appease Francois any more than it had Jamie. She needed Francois’s help with her plans. If he knew about this, he would be even less inclined to give it.
“You cannot keep a secret from me, so why attempt it?” Francois said. “Besides, I know the absolute worst about you, and I still love you. The best outweighs the worst by a thousand times.”
“I have nothing to tell.”
“Come,” he said, giving her his most charming smile, “confess to your brother.”
“Perhaps I will, if you will tell me about the woman who kept you from home the past three days.”
Francois gave her his cat’s smile. “A man must keep some secrets from his sister.”
She gave him a matching smile. And vice versa, brother dear.
Jamie was whistling to himself as he walked up the Strand to Linnet’s house when someone grabbed his arm from behind.
“Francois.” Jamie dropped the point of his dagger from the base of Francois’s throat and sheathed the blade. “Surprising a man like that could get you killed.”
Francois, to his credit, had not blinked an eye.
“All this about you having no serious intentions toward my sister is a lie, is it not?” Francois asked, his eyes drilling holes through Jamie.
Jamie was a brother, too, so he respected Francois’s right to ask the question. More, he felt a surge of sympathy for Francois’s having a sister like Linnet to keep watch over. Three of his sisters put together would never be as much trouble.
“I mean to make her my wife,” Jamie said. “You won’t tell her, will you?”
“Not a word, my friend,” Francois said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Not a word.”
“We need to talk,” Jamie said. “Let us find a public house where we can have a cup of ale.”
“You want me to give you advice on how to get around my hardheaded sister?” Francois said with a grin.
“Aye, and I need to tell you what happened to Linnet at Westminster three days ago.”
They turned down a narrow side street and stepped into the first tavern they found. It was dark and small, with rushes over a dirt floor and two unkempt customers asleep in the back corner. After getting their cups of ale, Jamie and Francois sat at a table next to the door where the air was not so sour.
“This could happen to no one else,” Francois said after Jamie told him about the witches’ cabal. Then he cursed in three languages Jamie could identify and one or two he could not.
Francois tilted his head back and emptied his cup, then signaled to the tavernkeeper. After the man refilled their cups, he raised his to Jamie.
“I love my sister with all my heart, but I pray to God she may become your trial soon.”
“I hope so,” Jamie said and clanked his cup against Francois’s. “You’re her twin. You understand her best. Am I right to deceive her as to my intentions?”
“For certain,” Francois said with an emphatic nod. “Linnet is as stubborn as the day is long. She won’t be pushed. You’ve a much better chance if she believes it is her idea.”
“So, we shall make a pact, then, behind her back,” Jamie said, raising his cup again.
Francois laughed as he touched his cup to Jamie’s. “How she would hate it, but ’tis for her own good.”
“I love her,” Jamie said, “but as God is my witness, I cannot understand why she must do the things she does.”
Francois dropped his usual smile and stared into his cup. “She wants justice in a world that is not just,” he said after a time. “She wants to set things aright.”
“Where was the justice in using me to punish your father?” Jamie could not help but ask. “Why did she not tell me about Pomeroy’s offer and trust me to find a way?”
Francois leaned back and blew out a long breath. “The only person she trusts—besides me—is herself. She took all that happened to us when we were children harder than I did—being motherless, our father’s neglect, losing everything when our grandfather fell ill. Even if she believes you care for her, she will not let herself rely on you.”
“But what of my uncle Stephen and Isobel?” Jamie said. “She shares a close bond with them.”
“She did learn to trust them, so there is hope for you.” Francois waggled an eyebrow. “But as I recall, it did involve a life-and-death struggle.”
“Aye, it did,” Jamie said and shook his head. They sat in silence for a time before he spoke again. “Stephen says the two of you fought him like crazed animals when he and my father found you in Falaise.”
“In sooth, I do not know what would have happened to us if Stephen had not taken it upon himself to act as our protector,” Francois said. “I expect we would have been forced into a whorehouse.”
That was precisely what Jamie’s father said. Jamie hated to think about Linnet as she had been then—a breathtakingly beautiful girl, with no home, no money, and only a brother her age to defend her. It was hard to imagine it now, but Francois had looked almost as pretty as his sister at that age.
Francois sighed. “I fear, my friend, that you will need to prove yourself to Linnet over and over again,” Francois said, then winked. “But she is worth it.”
“She is, indeed,” Jamie said, getting to his feet.
He was tired of talking, and even more tired of thinking about how to manage her and mold her to his will. All he wanted
was to be with her, to have her safe in his arms.
He remembered to lift a hand in farewell to Francois as he went out the door. ’Twas past time to go. He’d been away from her far too long.
Chapter Fourteen
Linnet threw her arms around Jamie’s neck as soon as he came through the door. “The bishop kept you far too long.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Did you miss me?”
“I did,” she admitted, since it was far too late to pretend otherwise.
“I missed you more,” Jamie said. Then he gave her a kiss that curled her toes—and almost made her believe it.
She rested her cheek against his chest and sighed as he ran his fingers through her hair. The steady thump-thump of his heart brought her an unfamiliar sense of peace. In the happiness of the moment, she could almost forget the difficult tasks she had set for herself.
“Francois was here,” she said.
“Hmm.”
She felt a bit guilty for being glad the two had missed each other. But this was their last day in London, and she did not want to share what little time they had left even with her brother.
“Once we return to Windsor, we won’t be able to be together like this,” Jamie said, echoing her thoughts.
Being at Windsor would be like it was in Paris—kissing in darkened courtyards and making love between old pots and bags of grain in dusty storerooms. She suspected that what had seemed exciting to Jamie at eighteen would no longer sit well with him. Jamie was a man now, the sort who was used to living his life in the open, with nothing to hide.
Jamie took her face in his hands and smiled down at her with a soft look in his eyes. “We’ll sneak off as often as we can.”
The secrecy suited her; she was reticent to have anyone know her business. But Jamie was not as comfortable about “sneaking off” as he pretended.
One thing was different from when they were in Paris. While he was affectionate with her, no declaration of love ever passed his lips. She told herself this was good, that it would make it easier when he left her this time.
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