Knight of Passion

by Margaret Mallory

  But she did not believe it.

  “Let’s not waste what time we have left here,” Jamie said, lifting her chin. “Come upstairs with me.”

  She nodded. However long it lasted, she had him now. Much later, when they lay entwined in her bed in the fading afternoon light, Jamie said, “I could not find the hidden door in the corridor at Westminster.”

  She disentangled her legs from his and got up on one elbow. “I thought you had an appointment with the bishop.”

  “I wanted to see the secret passageway before I met with him.”

  She sat up. “Did you not believe me? I am not some silly woman who sees things that are not there.”

  “You, silly? What a notion,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “Nay, I never doubted you. In fact, I told the bishop all about the witches’ cabal you witnessed.”

  Her cheeks grew warm. “How could you tell him what I saw? He is a churchman!”

  Jamie laughed and ran his hand up her arm. “In sooth, I do not believe it is possible to shock the bishop. Though the pleasures of the flesh do not rule him, celibacy is not one of his virtues. He has a mistress, you know.”

  “But why would you tell him?”

  “If witches are brazen enough to meet in the bowels of Westminster Palace, who knows what evil they are up to? You forget, our young king was in the palace when this happened.”

  “I suppose it is good to be cautious, but their interest did not appear to be… political,” she said, thinking of the naked woman on the table.

  Jamie sat up and grabbed both her arms.

  “Going down that passageway alone was so dangerous, I still cannot believe you did it,” he said, his eyes like blue fire. “What in God’s name made you do it?”

  She was not about to confess that she had thought she was following Alderman Arnold.

  “We have discussed this already—or rather, you shouted,” she said, arching her eyebrows. “It is over and done with.”

  Praise God she’d had the good sense not to tell Jamie the whole tale. If Jamie knew she suspected the wolf-man had seen her—and, God forbid, what he was doing at the time—Jamie would have gone into an even worse rage than he had.

  “You are hurting me,” she said, though he was not, truly. When she looked pointedly at where Jamie’s fingers were digging into her arms, he released his grip at once.

  “Sorry, but each time I think of you down there alone with them, I want to kill someone.” He looked away from her and narrowed his eyes. “I want to feel my blade buried to the hilt in that wolf-man’s gut… or squeeze the life out of him with my hands around his throat.”

  Linnet suppressed a shiver as she remembered the wolf-man’s eyes boring into hers. She felt so blissful—and so safe—with Jamie at her house that she had been able to push aside thoughts of the witches most of the time. When she awoke with nightmares, Jamie’s arms were about her. His solid presence soothed her.

  “Another reason I told Beaufort about the witches,” Jamie said, picking up the thread of his conversation again, “is that I thought he might be privy to the secrets of the palace.”

  “Did he know of the hidden passageway?” she asked. “The bishop says there was once a secret passageway, but he denies knowing where it was.”

  “What will he do about the witches?” Linnet asked.

  “He’ll keep his eyes and ears open for sorcery and any sort of treachery against the king,” Jamie said. “And the bishop has a great many eyes and ears.”

  “You mean the monks and priests under his purview?” Linnet asked. “What will they know of demon-worshippers?”

  Jamie lay back on the bed and put his arms behind his head. “The Winchester geese are the bishop’s best source of information—the prostitutes hear most everything.”

  Linnet twisted a strand of Jamie’s hair around her finger as she debated whether to tell him. Finally, she said, “I learned something else the bishop might like to know.”

  As Jamie waited in silence for her to tell him, she ran her fingers in a slow circle over his bare chest.

  “How well do you know Lady Eleanor Cobham?” she asked and felt Jamie’s muscles tense beneath her fingertips.

  “Why do you ask?” he said in a voice that was too casual.

  She stopped her hand and looked him in the eye. “I heard something about her when I was in London before.”

  “There is always some gossip about Eleanor.”

  He spoke without meeting her eyes, and she did not like it.

  “I made a purchase from an old woman who makes herbal remedies.” Even under torture, she would not admit she had gone seeking a potion to make Jamie repulsive to her.

  She waited for him to ask what her visit to a herbalist had to do with Eleanor, but Jamie’s lips were shut tight.

  “The old woman told me,” she said, drawing the words out, “that Eleanor used love potions on Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.”

  “Women waste their money on such ‘magic’ all the time,” Jamie said. “The City and the church officials turn a blind eye to it so long as there is no allegation of sorcery.”

  “That is the thing.” Linnet turned so that her legs hung over the side of the bed and began to swing them. “The old herbalist says Eleanor obtains her potions from Margery Jourdemayne, a woman who works in the dark arts. This Margery is known as the Witch of Eye.”

  Linnet wondered where the old herbalist was. When she went to her shop today, the door had been locked tight. Her neighbors said they had not seen the old woman in weeks.

  “Tell me your curiosity did not move you to seek out this Witch of Eye,” Jamie said, sitting up. “It would be just like you.”

  Linnet glanced sideways at Jamie. Despite his disparaging tone, his expression was uneasy.

  “You know something about this,” she said, turning to tap her finger against his chest. “And about Eleanor Cobham.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the door, as if contemplating escape.

  “What is it?” she said.

  “You will laugh and think me a fool.”

  Jamie looked like a boy caught eating cakes before supper.

  “Perhaps I will,” she said, “but tell me all the same.” He fidgeted some more, blew out a breath, and glanced at the door yet again before he finally spoke. “When I was in London two or three years ago, I went to bed with Eleanor.”

  His words stung like vinegar on a fresh cut. Jamie, however, showed no sign he noticed how his words made her wince.

  “I had no intention of going with her, at first.” Jamie shrugged. “When she made it plain she was inviting me to her bed—the woman was not subtle—I tried to find a way to politely refuse her.”

  “But you changed your mind,” Linnet said, doing her best to keep the razor-sharp anger she felt out of her voice.

  “ ’Twas strange,” Jamie said, looking at his hands. “After having no thought except how to make my escape, quite suddenly, I wanted her. In fact, I wanted her so badly that… well…”

  “Well what?”

  He shrugged again, looking slightly embarrassed. “Well, I believe I took her right there in the corridor outside her chamber the first time.”

  He could not wait to get Eleanor into her room?

  The first time?

  “And you thought I would laugh at this?” Linnet said, her voice rising.

  Jamie looked at her with wide eyes. “ ’Twas not my fault. The woman drugged me!”

  Linnet turned her head away. “I am not your wife,” she said through clenched teeth. “You need not lie to me.”

  “I swear to you, she must have given me a potion. No woman would have been safe from me. I was like a bull in spring, mindless to anything but rutting, rutting, rutting.”

  “How did you survive this trial?”

  Somehow, Jamie failed to realize her question was rhetorical. Instead, the fool said, “In sooth, my cock was hellish sore for days.”

  Did he think she w
anted to hear that? She wanted to throw something at him, but there was nothing close at hand on the bed.

  “How long were you in that room with her, Jamie Rayburn?”

  “Two, three days? ’Tis hard to say. I stayed until the madness passed.” When he caught her expression, he raised his hands, palms out. “I could not leave and let myself loose on the rest of womankind in the state I was in.”

  “How chivalrous of you. The absolute height of chivalry, to be sure.” She got down from the bed, flung her robe on, and pulled it tight around herself. “You should go now.”

  “You are angry?” he asked, his eyes wide and blinking. “Come, do not tell me you are jealous of a woman who had to drug me to get her way with me.”

  “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” she snapped. “I had lovers, too.”

  It was almost true. She had very nearly done it. She’d wanted to. She’d meant to. She would at her very next opportunity!

  Jamie dropped down from the high bed and grabbed her by the shoulders. The anger in his eyes was most gratifying. But whatever he was about to shout at her, he bit it back.

  “You will follow our agreement?” he said with an edge to his voice. “No other lovers during our affair.”

  How dare he accuse her after what he’d just confessed? She twisted away from his grip and glared at him.

  “If I do take another lover,” she said, “I’ll be sure to claim he slipped a potion into my cup.”

  Linnet was so angry Jamie could almost see the steam rising off her as she stood, arms folded and eyes blazing. He had to work to hide his smile. Ha! She was jealous of a woman he went to bed with more than two years ago—and against his will.

  If that was not a good sign, he did not know what was. Of course, he had wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled for that remark about her other lovers. That had scalded; he still felt the burn of her words in his belly.

  He sucked in a deep breath. He could not change her past. What mattered was that he would be the last lover she ever had.

  Because, by God, she would never have another.

  Jamie pulled her into his arms. She was stiff as an iron pike, but he stifled her protests with a kiss. A moment later, her arms went around his neck, and she melted into him like butter on hot bread.

  Aye, she was his for good. She just did not know it yet.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Joanna Courcy, the boldest of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, grabbed Linnet by the wrist and pulled her into the privy chamber behind the screen in the Great Hall.

  “You must speak to her!” Joanna said, her voice high and shrill. “We are all at our wits’ end.”

  Joanna could be speaking only of Queen Katherine.

  “I shall help if I can,” Linnet said. “What is it that troubles you?”

  “The queen and that Welshman,” Joanna hissed in her ear.

  With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Linnet asked, “Has she been indiscreet?”

  “She is all a-twitter over him,” Joanna said, her hands fluttering in the air. “And he, a lowly commoner.”

  Which was entirely beside the point.

  “We have dropped quiet hints, but she ignores them,” Joanna said. “None of us can speak to her as you do.”

  Linnet hid her misgivings and patted the woman’s arm. “Do not fret. I shall speak with Her Highness at once.” And she would give that Owen Tudor a good tongue-lashing as well.

  The journey from London had been long and tiring. All she wanted to do now was change her clothes, settle her things into her chamber, and then go off somewhere with Jamie. After the freedom they had in London, it had been hard to sit next to him for hours on the barge and not be able to touch him as she wanted to. The most she could do was occasionally touch her fingers to his arm.

  But the queen needed her, so she would have to wait to have time alone with Jamie. Without stopping in her own chamber to change, she went to the queen’s apartment.

  Queen Katherine greeted her with a warm smile that lit up her eyes. “My dear Linnet,” she said, taking her hands, “ ’tis good to have you back with us.”

  “Your Highness, what is this I hear about you and Owen? I begged you to be cau—”

  “Sometimes I despair of you,” Queen Katherine said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “No wasting time with ‘How do you fare, Your Highness?’ Or, ‘Lovely gown you are wearing today, Your Grace.’ ”

  “I am sorry,” Linnet said, knowing the chastisement was just. She often forgot to observe the niceties expected in noble society. “You do look exquisite today, but I am anxious for you to tell me I’ve no cause to worry.”

  “No need to fret,” Queen Katherine said with a sparkle in her eyes. “For ’tis too late for it to do any good.”

  “Too late?” Linnet asked, panic rising in her throat. “What can you mean?”

  The queen leaned close and whispered next to Linnet’s ear, “I’ve already gone to bed with him.” When Linnet tried to lean back to stare at her, the queen pulled her close again. “And it was wonderful.”

  Linnet felt her eyes go wide. Good heavens, what was she to advise the queen now? “Your Highness, I understand how… overpowering… that can be. It can cloud one’s thinking.”

  That was the honest truth.

  “I suffer no confusion,” the queen said, smiling at her. “You are infatuated,” Linnet said. “ ’Tis a passing fancy. Nothing that merits taking a great risk.”

  “I am so happy, my dear,” the queen said, taking Linnet’s hands again and squeezing them. “Please try to be pleased for me.”

  Heaven help her, this could not be worse. Clearly, her friend could not see sense just now.

  “Enjoy him for a time if it pleases you,” Linnet said. “But I beg you, keep it quiet. No one must hear of this.”

  “Come, what do you think I have done?” the queen asked with a laugh. “Sent messengers to the four corners of the kingdom to proclaim the news?”

  “If you insist on proceeding with this… this…”—Linnet wanted to say “foolishness,” but thought better of it—“affair, then it must be done in secret. Your ladies and I can arrange clandestine meetings, if you wish. But you absolutely must not spend hours behind closed doors with Owen when the entire castle knows he is alone in there with you.”

  “Why must I hide my feelings?” her friend said, her eyes growing sad. “I only want what every woman wants.”

  Could the queen be thinking of a serious alliance here? An affair with one of her underlings would stir unwanted troubles, but marriage was utterly impossible.

  “Perhaps someday you shall have all you want,” Linnet said, because this was the only hope she could truthfully give her friend. “But it cannot be now.”

  “How long must I wait?” the queen demanded. “When will the men who keep my son judge him old enough that a man who pays court to me is not a threat to their influence? Can you tell me, Linnet? Will it be ten years? Fifteen?”

  What had happened to the meek princess who always did what was expected of her? This woman who leaned forward with her hands on her hips and anger sparking in her eyes was not the same.

  “I cannot give him up,” Queen Katherine said, her voice firm. “I will not.”

  “I see,” Linnet said, though she was not certain she did. “If you are set on continuing this dangerous affair, then at least let me give you herbs to help prevent a pregnancy.”

  “But my dear,” the queen said with a soft smile. “I want a child.”

  Linnet fell back a step and reached behind her for a chair.

  “In sooth, I hope Owen and I will have many children,” the queen said with a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Then I shall pray for you, Your Highness.” The fear rising in Linnet’s chest made her voice come out low and choked. “I shall pray night and day, for the path you are choosing is a perilous one.”

  “It is a path I will not walk alone.”

  Linnet swallowed. “Tell me. Is Owen worth t
he risk you are taking?”

  The queen met her eyes. “I love him,” she said, as if that answered all.

  “But you were married to King Henry. You loved him, did you not?”

  “Aye, but in a different way,” Queen Katherine said with a sigh. “Like everyone, I was in awe of him. Henry was a great man, a king for the ages.”

  Linnet had adored King Henry, who was like a king from tales of old. Owen was not a bad sort, but next to King Henry, he seemed so… ordinary.

  “With Henry, everything came before me,” the queen said. “He was always off fighting or occupied with affairs of state. But Owen wants only to be with me and make me happy.”

  “How long can he make you happy?” Linnet asked. “If Gloucester or the council find out, there is no telling what they will do.”

  “They cannot do worse to me than my own mother did in the years of my father’s madness,” the queen said. “She cared more for her spoiled dogs than for us children.”

  It was easy to forget that this delicate French princess had suffered a difficult childhood.

  “While she entertained her lovers with lavish feasts on the other side of Paris,” the queen said, her voice bitter, “we nearly starved because she could not be bothered to pay for our upkeep.”

  “I beg your pardon, Your Grace.” Linnet took her friend’s arm and led her to sit on the bench by the windows.

  “I will not give him up,” the queen said again.

  Her friend seemed to have found her strength at last. “All I ask is that you be cautious,” Linnet said, taking the queen’s hand in both of hers. “You do understand you must keep your affections a secret?”

  After a moment, her friend nodded.

  “As you are set on this course, I will do what I can to help you.”

  “Thank you,” the queen said. “I hope someday you will understand that true love is worth any risk.”

  “Is it worth losing all you hold dear?” Linnet asked, her voice strained. “Your very life?”

  “You are braver than I am in so many ways, my friend.” The queen touched her fingers to Linnet’s cheek and gave her a patient smile. “But you are a coward when it comes to love.”