Knight of Passion

by Margaret Mallory

  Pomeroy kept his composure; Jamie had to give him that.

  “Is defending her”—Pomeroy cleared his throat—“ virtue worth your life?”

  “Be in the field at the bend in the river, or I shall come find you,” Jamie said. “If I have to chase you down, I promise you, I shall show no mercy.”

  Jamie straightened and sheathed his sword.

  “This is a personal matter between Pomeroy and me.” He let his gaze travel to every man at the table. “If men hear of it beforehand and take sides, it will feed into the current political strife. That will serve no one.”

  There were several grunts of agreement around the table.

  “Can I rely upon you men to keep quiet until the matter is settled?”

  “That you can,” Sir John said in his deep voice. “To be certain, we shall remain together until it is done.”

  Jamie nodded his thanks.

  “What say you to riding out to observe the fight?” Sir John said to the others.

  One of the men slapped the table and grinned. “This is a fight I’d like to see.”

  This was followed by nods and “ayes” all around the table. Men loved to watch a fight.

  Jamie gave Pomeroy a long look before he turned on his heel and left. When he stepped out of the tower, he drew in a deep, cleansing breath of cold air and started across the lower ward.

  “You gave Pomeroy no means to avoid the fight,” Martin said as he caught up to him.

  Lord, he’d forgotten the lad was with him.

  “ ’Tis too late for that now,” Jamie said without turning his head. In the messages he had sent Pomeroy over the weeks, he had hinted that Lady Linnet might be willing to accept a formal apology and a sum of money—large enough to be painful to Pomeroy—as compensation for the harm done.

  But that would not satisfy Jamie now. This sort of fighting was so much more complicated than war. He must put the fear of death into Pomeroy, without actually killing him.

  Jamie preferred the rules of war. He wanted Pomeroy’s blood.

  “Was that wise, sir?” Martin asked. “To provide no opportunity for a peaceful resolution?”

  “ ’Tis the only way.”

  “But Sir Guy is well-known for his fighting skills,” Martin persisted.

  “What kind of father do you have that I must explain this to you?” Jamie exploded.

  Christ give him patience! He’d had enough talk for one day. The lower ward was huge and took so long to cross he wished he’d brought his damned horse. Just when he thought the boy had the good sense to be quiet, he spoke again.

  “My mother devoted herself to teaching me the virtues of knighthood,” Martin said, sounding as though he had given Jamie’s last remark careful thought. “But perhaps my father would have taught me the more practical aspects had he not died when I was a babe.”

  Damn. Why did he not know the boy’s father was dead? Martin was his squire. If the boy had no father to teach him what he ought to know, then it was Jamie’s duty to do it.

  “The matter with Pomeroy is a simple one,” he explained. “Pomeroy poses a threat to Lady Linnet. As she is my future wife, I cannot allow that.”

  “You are to wed her? That is the best of news, sir.”

  Jamie was not feeling particularly joyous about it at the moment. But he was determined.

  Martin was quiet until they passed the guards at the gate by the Round Tower that separated the lower and upper wards.

  “Are you certain you will prevail, sir?”

  “Aye.” There was no other choice.

  “May I be your second, sir?”

  The boy’s offer broke Jamie’s sour mood. “You are a good lad, but I will not need a second,” he said, slapping Martin on the back. “But there is something I would have you do for me.”

  “It would be an honor, sir.”

  “I want you to tell Lady Linnet I had to leave Windsor on business for Bedford.”

  “You want me to lie to her?” Martin’s eyes went wide. He did manage to refrain from reminding Jamie that a knight is honest and true—though Jamie could see he wanted to.

  This time, Jamie laughed out loud. “Trust me, this is not the sort of thing you tell a woman until after it is done.”

  Martin appeared to think this over, then nodded. “I see. ’Tis more gallant to save the lady what might be needless worry.”

  Or, in the case of my beloved, it is best to give her no opportunity to interfere.

  “When shall I say you will return?” Martin asked. When I’ve put the fear of God into Pomeroy.

  Likely as not, Jamie would end up with a few bumps and scrapes. He was quick to mend, but he might not be in fit shape to be seen today.

  “To save her needless worry,” Jamie said, a smile twitching at his lips, “tell her not to expect me before the morrow.”

  When they reached his chamber, Jamie set Martin to polishing his shield and cleaning his boots. He sharpened his sword and dagger himself, as he always did, and slid an extra blade into his boot. As he strapped on his sword, he looked up to find Martin watching him with an earnest expression.

  “I begin to feel insulted by your lack of faith.”

  “ ’Tis not that,” Martin was quick to assure him. “But I fear that a man who would insult Lady Linnet cannot be trusted to follow the rules of chivalry in fighting either.”

  “A good observation,” Jamie said with a nod of approval. “Sir John thought the same, which is why he made sure he and the other men will be there to serve as witnesses.”

  Martin blinked at him. “You know Sir Guy has no honor and yet you will fight him?”

  What nonsense had the boy’s mother put into his head?

  “Believe it or not, Pomeroy will not be the first man I’ve fought who was not a man of honor,” Jamie said, suppressing a smile. He put his hand on Martin’s shoulder. “If you find yourself often fighting men of honor, you must ask yourself if you are on the wrong side.”

  He was ready to go. Martin went with him to the stables to help him with Thunder. Once he was mounted, he looked down at his squire, who was still holding on to his horse’s bridle.

  “May I come to watch, after I tell Lady Linnet the lie?”

  “Aye.” The lad could use the experience of watching a rough fight or two before Jamie took him to France.

  “Take care, sir.”

  The lad looked so anxious that Jamie had to laugh. “You’re a good lad, but you fret like an old woman.”

  Jamie leaned over to give Martin a friendly rap on the head. “My father taught me well, as I shall teach you. I am well prepared for the likes of Sir Guy Pomeroy.”

  The conversation with Martin cheered him considerably, and he enjoyed the ride along the river. Fighting was not something he worried much about. He had been trained by the very best—his father and his uncle Stephen. In a fair fight, he was any man’s match. In an unfair fight, chances were just as good he would prevail.

  As he approached the wide bend in the river, he saw the lone horseman waiting in the middle of a field shorn of its summer harvest.

  Pomeroy. Jamie’s light mood vanished.

  He should have dealt with Pomeroy a long time ago. He had been hard on Linnet—not that she didn’t deserve it. But he had been angry with himself as much as with her. After today, Pomeroy would know better than to come near her.

  If Jamie let him live.

  As he rode closer, he saw four other horsemen near the hedge that separated the field from a wood. He recognized the big man who lifted his arm in greeting as Sir John.

  Pomeroy wore full armor. For one-on-one fighting, Jamie thought this was a mistake. A coward’s mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

  “A fine afternoon,” Jamie said to Pomeroy. “’Tis filthy cold,” Pomeroy said and rammed his helmet on.

  Jamie shrugged. “Not so cold as to freeze the ground. The gravediggers should have no trouble with your grave.”

  As he waited for Sir John to join them in t
he center of the field, Jamie examined Pomeroy’s horse, weapons, and gleaming armor.

  “In fairness, I must tell you,” Jamie said. “The armor is a mistake. I’m willing to wait while you remove it.”

  “You insolent bastard of a traitor! You dare instruct me on how to fight?”

  Jamie shrugged again. “I warned you.”

  Sir John rode up between them and cut off Pomeroy’s string of curses.

  “Each of you will ride to the far end of the field and await my signal for the combat to begin,” Sir John said. “It ends when one of you concedes or is dead. Agreed?”

  “Aye,” they both answered.

  Jamie cantered to the edge of his side of the field and turned Thunder to face their opponent. His great warhorse danced sideways, as ready for a fight as he. Jamie fixed his eyes on Pomeroy. Cold, hard anger filled him as he let himself remember Linnet on her knees with the fiend’s hand coiled in her hair.

  You will pay for the humiliation you caused her, for the fear in her eyes, for that cut on her cheek.

  “Sirs, are you ready?” Sir John shouted.

  “Aye!”

  “At my signal,” Sir John barked out. He raised his sword, then swung it down, shouting, “Commence to fight!”

  “Aaarrgh!!!” Jamie shouted his battle cry. Thunder’s hooves pounded beneath him as they charged across the field. He and this horse had been through so many battles together that they read each other like brothers. At his signal, Thunder galloped head-on at Pomeroy.

  At the last minute, Pomeroy’s horse tilted left. Jamie hit Pomeroy with his shield with a loud thwack as he passed, but Pomeroy stayed on his horse. On the next pass, Jamie took a heavy blow with his shield and struck Pomeroy across the back with the flat of his sword.

  So long as they were on their horses, Pomeroy’s armor gave him the advantage. Dislodging Pomeroy from his horse, however, was proving more difficult than he had anticipated.

  “I do not know where you got your reputation for fighting, Pomeroy,” Jamie shouted. “You must have been at the back with the carts and the mules, for you would not have lasted a day fighting at King Henry’s side.”

  Pomeroy galloped toward him with a roar and swung his sword at Jamie’s side with all his force. Jamie felt the wind of the sword on his back as he flattened himself against Thunder’s neck. Then, in one movement, he rose up and slammed the flat of his sword across Pomeroy’s back. Pomeroy was already half off his horse when Jamie turned Thunder around and flung himself onto Pomeroy’s back.

  They crashed to the ground amid flying hooves. As soon as Jamie stopped rolling, he leapt to his feet, sword at the ready. He waited for Pomeroy, who was slower, hampered by his armor.

  After that, the fight did not take long. Without the armor, they would have been a close match, for Pomeroy was powerful and skilled. Jamie was all that, but he was also agile and quick.

  Finally, Jamie slammed Pomeroy to the ground, straddled Pomeroy’s chest, and wrenched off his helmet. Battle rage rang in Jamie’s ears. As he looked into the man’s black eyes to his blacker soul, it was all he could do not to draw his dagger across Pomeroy’s neck.

  But a knight was expected to show mercy, not kill a countryman, after he had disarmed and defeated him in single combat.

  “If you ever touch Linnet again,” Jamie hissed through his teeth, “I shall rip off your arms and legs and eat your heart.”

  Pomeroy’s eyes had fury in them, too. “I concede,” he said through clenched teeth. “Now get off me.”

  Jamie thought of the thin line of blood on Linnet’s fair skin and could not let the man go unmarked.

  “First, let us see if you are as brave as she is.” Jamie picked up Pomeroy’s sword from where it had fallen and brought the shining blade to Pomeroy’s cheek.

  Pomeroy’s demeanor changed instantly. His eye twitched and sweat beaded on his brow.

  “Do not cut me,” Pomeroy said in a low voice.

  “What is it?” Jamie demanded. When Pomeroy said nothing, Jamie pressed the flat of the blade harder against Pomeroy’s cheek without quite breaking the skin.

  “Stop!” Pomeroy swallowed when Jamie eased the pressure. In a low rasp, he said, “There is poison on the blade.”

  “You would stoop to poison?”

  Jamie’s hand shook with the effort not to kill the man for the affront. The devil stood on his shoulder, urging him to slice the poisoned blade across Pomeroy’s cheek. The devil whispered in his ear that no one would suspect Jamie knew the blade was tainted. The blame would fall on Pomeroy himself. A man who chose so dishonorable a means to win a contest deserved an ignoble death.

  But Jamie’s father had taught him that his enemy’s behavior did not guide his own. A knight did not take a man’s life by poison, no matter how richly the death was deserved.

  Grinding his teeth against his rage, Jamie forced himself to toss Pomeroy’s sword aside. Holding Pomeroy by the throat, he pulled his own dagger.

  “I should cut out your eyes just for looking at her,” he spat out. “But I shall settle for this.”

  Pomeroy clenched his jaw, but he did not cry out when Jamie drew the edge of the blade across his cheek. It was a deep cut that would fester and leave a scar.

  “When you look at your reflection, I want you to remember that I could have killed you this day,” Jamie said. “Know that if you ever threaten Linnet again, I shall.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “There is a rumor on the wind about you, Lady Linnet,” Gloucester said.

  Linnet raised an eyebrow. “Only one, Your Grace? ’Tis disappointing to learn I am so little remarked upon.”

  Gloucester guffawed and slapped his knee. “I do like a clever woman. Never fear, dear lady, there is always a good deal of talk about you—especially about your beauty.”

  She expelled a dramatic sigh. “ That is not very interesting.”

  Neither was Gloucester. When he crossed the hall to sit beside her on her bench by the window, there was no escape. One simply did not walk away from a man who was the king’s uncle and third in line to the throne, tedious though he may be. Just yesterday, she would have done it anyway. But after how angry Jamie had been with her, she was determined to be more circumspect in her behavior.

  “There is also speculation as to whom you’ve taken as your latest lover.” Gloucester leaned closer. “But I, for one, am more interested in learning who will be your next.”

  Linnet did not like the direction of the conversation—or the way the duke was staring at her chest.

  She cleared her throat. “But that is not the rumor you first spoke of?”

  “You are quite right.”

  His sweet scent was going to make her sneeze if he did not move farther away. She glanced about the room, hoping someone would rescue her.

  “What I heard is that you are looking for a particular man,” Gloucester said in a low voice. “A merchant you suspect of cheating your family many years past.”

  Linnet’s heart leapt in her chest. He had her full attention now. Trying to keep her voice steady, she asked, “Do you know who this man is?”

  “Not at present. But if it is important to you, mon cherie…” He shrugged one shoulder and lifted his hands. “I could be persuaded to apply a bit of pressure here, a hint of a favor there…”

  As a member of the royal family, Gloucester had means to obtain information she would never have. And more, he was the darling of the London merchants. If Gloucester let it be known that he required certain information, he would get it.

  Linnet leaned forward, her breath coming fast. “You would do this for me, Your Grace?”

  “The task could prove… enjoyable,” he said with a slow smile. “Who knows what we might discover together?”

  She sat back and folded her hands in her lap. Gloucester liked to play at being chivalrous, but he expected payment for service. Of course, she should have known there would be a quid pro quo. All she needed to do was think of something he
wanted—other than herself.

  His heavy scent made her nose twitch dangerously as he leaned close again. “There are too many ears here in the hall. Come to my rooms in an hour, and we can discuss how best to pursue your mysterious merchant.”

  “Will Lady Eleanor be joining us?” she asked, playing innocent.

  He gave a bark of laughter. “Eleanor knows I like to share my goodwill.”

  Which was probably one of the reasons Eleanor remained his favorite.

  “All the same, let us keep this… arrangement… to ourselves,” Gloucester said, giving her a wink. “I suspect Sir James Rayburn would not be pleased if he learned of it.”

  And there was the rub.

  While she was not going to let Gloucester lay a finger on her, let alone get into bed with him, Jamie would be furious if he learned she was still pursuing her revenge. She had not meant to. Truly, she had every intention of giving up the search. But with Gloucester dangling the means of discovering the identity of her worst enemy, she could not turn away.

  She would have the name in no time.

  And Jamie need never know.

  She got to her feet. As she dipped her curtsy, she gave Gloucester a slight nod. Then she picked up her skirts and left him without a backward glance.

  The question of what to pay Gloucester for the favor was already settled in her mind. It was well known Gloucester overspent his income. His lavish support of the arts, among other indulgences, left him perpetually short of cash. Gold coin she had aplenty.

  Gloucester was like a fish on a hook. All she had to do was get him in her net without falling into the water. She would make this a business deal, and they both would walk away satisfied. From what she heard, that was more than could be said of his lovers.

  He would give her the name of her enemy. Once she had it, she would crush the villain like a soft pebble beneath her heel. Then all would be as it should be: the evil would be punished, the honest and hardworking rewarded.

  Jamie called it revenge, but she called it justice.

  To leave her past behind, she must do this one last thing. And then, she would begin her new life with her beloved.

  An hour later, Linnet presented herself at Gloucester’s rooms. She was covered head to toe in hood and cape and carrying a purse filled with gold coins. She was expected. After a brief glance at her face beneath the hood, the guard opened the heavy door for her.