Knight of Passion

by Margaret Mallory

  She could not make herself go in at first.

  For the hundredth time, she told herself Jamie need never know. Sweat broke out on her palms as she stepped into the room—not from any fear of Gloucester, but because she felt guilty for deceiving her future husband—the man she loved with all her heart.

  “Jamie, I promise I shall never deceive you again,” she whispered under her breath. “But I can have no peace until I avenge my grandfather and right the wrong done to us.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Jamie was starving. ’Twas always that way after a fight. As soon as he cleaned himself up, he went to the hall hoping to find some supper. He could eat an entire wild boar himself.

  Supper was finished, but when he hailed a servant, the good man brought him a tasty venison pie and a loaf of bread. Ignoring the people milling about the hall, he sat at a trestle table and made quick work of his meal. When he was done, he got up to look for Linnet.

  Food was not the only thing a man hungered for after a fight. He was randy as hell.

  The Virgin protect him. Eleanor Cobham was heading straight for him like a hound on the scent of a fox through an open field. Jamie glanced to the left and the right, though he knew full well it was too late to escape.

  “Lady Eleanor,” he said, making his bow. “You look striking tonight.”

  He spoke the truth—Eleanor looked as if she might strike anyone who stood in her path.

  She narrowed cold gray eyes at him and demanded, “Do you know where your lady friend is?”

  How much jewelry could a woman wear? Gloucester could have financed another foray against the Flemish with the gold and glittering stones hanging off his mistress.

  “My ‘lady friend’?” he asked in a mild tone, knowing damned well it would annoy her.

  Eleanor leaned forward, hands on her hips, and he smelled the strong wine on her breath.

  “Do not play the fool with me, James Rayburn. You know very well I mean that fair-haired French bastard who puts on airs as if royal blood ran through her veins.”

  In a flash, Jamie’s own blood was pounding in his ears. “If you were a man, Eleanor, I would beat you senseless for that remark. As it is, I will ask you to curb your tongue.”

  “Men are such fools,” she spat out. “Shall I tell you where the woman you are so gallantly defending is at this very moment?”

  Unease settled in his gut. He cursed himself for letting this corrosive woman make him doubt Linnet. She had pledged her love, given him an eternal promise. She would not play him for a fool.

  Not again.

  “Lady Linnet is with the queen and her ladies in the queen’s apartment,” he said.

  Eleanor clenched her fists and stamped her foot. “She is with Gloucester!”

  “You are mistaken,” he said, fighting the insidious doubt that was seeping into his heart. “But if she were in his company, I am certain it would be for some innocent purpose.”

  He just could not imagine what. Linnet had little patience for people she disliked. She would avoid Gloucester like the plague, unless… unless he had something she wanted.

  Jamie rubbed his temples with one hand as he found himself walking down a long corridor beside Eleanor. The woman seethed with malice. Why was he letting her lead him to Gloucester’s rooms? It was wrong of him to doubt Linnet.

  The question kept going through his mind: What could Gloucester give her?

  Anything she wanted.

  Jamie had a moment of panic as he followed Eleanor into an empty bedchamber. Had he completely misunderstood her? He tried to recall if his wine had tasted unusually sweet.

  Eleanor, however, marched across the room without a backward glance. When she reached a door on the opposite side, she stopped and pressed her ear to it. Jamie’s heart beat faster as he realized the door must connect to Gloucester’s apartment. Eleanor waved impatiently for him to join her. When he did not, she lifted the latch, pushed the door with her fingertips, and stepped back.

  Jamie watched in horror as the door slowly swung open to reveal the scene in the next room. Gloucester was half-dressed, his chest bare in the wide gap of his open robe.

  And Linnet was on his lap. In his arms.

  Time stopped as the sight before him stole his trust, killed his faith, and destroyed the future he had imagined. His heart froze and shattered into a hundred pieces at his feet.

  Linnet looked up, startled, and pushed Gloucester away. But there was guilt in those pale-blue eyes.

  “How could you, Linnet? How could you do this?”

  He slammed the door and turned on Eleanor. Anger roiled in him, pounding through his veins and blurring his vision.

  “You are an evil woman,” he said, stepping toward her. “One day God will punish you for it.”

  “You should blame your lover, not me,” she said when he had her backed against the wall.

  “I know you poisoned other women you found with Gloucester,” he said, wrapping his hand around her throat. “If I hear Linnet has had so much as a bad stomach after this, you shall regret it.”

  “No one can prove I poisoned anyone.”

  “Did I say I would attempt to prove it?” he said. “Do I seem the sort of man to waste my time in court?”

  Eleanor’s eyes went wide as he brought his face down close to hers.

  “Pray Linnet stays well,” he hissed through his teeth. “For if she falls ill, I will sneak into your bedchamber in the dark of night and slit your throat.”

  With this last duty discharged, he turned and left.

  As he marched down the corridor, Linnet caught up to him. He did not look at her.

  “Jamie, that was not what it seemed. I—”

  “I hope you got whatever it was you wanted, Linnet. I hope it was worth the price you paid.”

  “I did not—”

  “Another woman will value what I have to offer. She will not sacrifice my affections and sell her honor.”

  “I did nothing wrong.”

  Jamie came to an abrupt halt and turned to face her. “Nothing? Nothing!” he roared. He had to clench his hands to keep from grabbing her and shaking her. “I find you sitting on the lap of a half-naked man in his bedchamber, and you call that nothing?”

  “It was nothing, I promise. You are the only man I love. The only one I want.”

  “And that is the worst part of it,” he said, shaking with emotion. “To get something you wanted, you would go into the arms of a man you detest. By God, you are a cold-hearted woman.”

  “Jamie, I only meant to—”

  “There is nothing you can say that will make a damned bit of difference to me,” he said. “I am done with you.”

  She started to speak again, but he had already turned away.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “The queen will meet you again tonight.” Linnet’s eyes followed Jamie crossing the hall with Agnes Stafford as she spoke to Owen. Agnes’s hand was tucked into Jamie’s arm.

  “How?” Owen asked.

  “What?”

  “How will Katherine get away and where shall I meet her?”

  “Half an hour after supper, I will cross the upper ward wearing her ermine-trimmed cape and hood, with her ladies in tow.” Linnet tried to concentrate, but it was hard with Jamie and that woman in the same room. “At the same time, the queen will slip out the side door in my cape to meet you at the place in the wood.”

  “Who knew love would prove so difficult?” Owen said with a sigh. “You do us a great favor by the risks you take on our behalf. I wish I could do the same for you.”

  “Jamie stays at Agnes’s side like a dutiful dog,” she said. “Is this farce meant to teach me a lesson?”

  Owen shrugged. “Jamie says he intends to wed her.”

  “He could not be that foolish.” Truly, he could not. “They would hate each other inside a month.”

  “Jamie says the lady’s religious devotion is sure to make her a good and faithful wife.”

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sp; “A good and faithful wife,” she snapped. She folded her arms and glared at the two of them. “No mortal man would tempt Agnes, that is for certain.”

  It made her so angry to see him parading around the hall with the paradigm of virtue. He meant it as a slap in her face, and she felt the sting.

  “What Jamie says is certain,” Owen said, “is that he will always know where Agnes is.”

  Linnet tapped her foot furiously. “And that is enough for him?”

  “So he says. I pray he comes to his senses before it is too late.”

  Linnet swallowed back the tears that threatened to break through her anger.

  “Surely you are not going to let him make this disastrous mistake?” Owen said, nudging her with his elbow. “If you do not save the fool from his own poor judgment, you will both regret it.”

  “He is not ready to listen to me yet.”

  “Ready or nay, you have no more time. He intends to leave Windsor on the morrow.”

  Owen was right. If she was going to win him back, she could delay no longer.

  “I believe Jamie would sacrifice anything for you,” Owen said, turning serious, “if he could be sure of you.”

  “I fear it is too late. I’ve hurt his pride twice, and he’ll not forgive me that.”

  “ ’Tis unlike you to give up so easily,” Owen said. “You are usually like a terrier.”

  She squeezed Owen’s arm. “Wish me well.”

  Jamie might pretend he was not aware of her presence, but she knew better. As soon as she started toward him across the vast hall, his eyes were on her. His expression was hard, but he looked at no one else.

  A few men tried to halt her progress, but she brushed past with a smile and a nod, set on her mission. When she reached Jamie’s group, she stepped into the circle beside him and proceeded to greet each person.

  “Sir Frederick,” she said, nodding to the handsome man on her other side who wore a forest-green tunic and matching liripipe hat. “That is an exquisite velvet.”

  The cloth was fine; it came from her own stores. “Lord Stafford.” She gave him a broad smile, thinking what a difficult father-in-law he would make. Jamie almost deserved him.

  “Good day, Lady Agnes.” The lack of interest in the young lady’s dark gaze surprised—and relieved—Linnet. The lady may be tedious, but she was an innocent in this drama.

  Linnet completed the circle and turned at last to Jamie. He was working the muscles of his jaw, and his face had angry red blotches.

  “Sir James. How very pleasant to see you.” She gave him a placid smile she had learned from the queen. “Are you well? You look a trifle… flushed.”

  “I have never been better,” Jamie bit out.

  “The musicians are a delight, are they not?” she said to the group. “I can tell you, there are none to match them in Paris.”

  This remark led to a lively conversation, as she knew it would. The English loved nothing better than to hear that they outmatched the French in some cultural accomplishment.

  While the others were thus engaged, she said to Jamie in a low voice, “We must speak.”

  He fixed his gaze above the head of the man opposite him. “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “You can leave with me now, or we can talk here in front of everyone,” she said. “You know how little I care for what people think.”

  She could almost hear him grind his teeth.

  “I will come,” he said, “because it would be unkind to allow you to embarrass Lady Agnes.”

  “If you ask me, she will be relieved to have you gone.” She raised her voice then to speak to the others. “If you will forgive us, the queen bade me bring Sir James to her. She has something she wishes to ask him.”

  Jamie narrowed his eyes at her, as if wanting to confirm that she was lying. She gave him her placid smile again to let him know she was, and that he could do nothing about it. Would he call her or the queen a liar in public? Nay, he would not.

  Linnet waved her fingers at the others and took Jamie’s arm. Feeling the heat and tension of the muscles beneath her fingers made it difficult to maintain her calm facade. They did not speak again until they were outside in the cool of the upper courtyard.

  “Shall we take a walk by the river, or would you prefer we talk in your bedchamber?” she asked.

  “The river.”

  He pried her hand from his arm—a telling gesture for a man in whom courtesy was ingrained—and stomped ahead of her toward the gate.

  “You do not have to be rude,” she snapped.

  The sun was out, but the ground was still muddy from the last rain. She soon wished she wore boots rather than the delicate slippers that matched her gown. His long strides made it impossible for her to keep up.

  “Damn it, Jamie! Slow down.”

  She was getting more and more vexed with him as she trudged behind him, despite her need to convince him that he still loved her and should marry her.

  “Do you believe Agnes would not complain if you treated her like a serf, expecting her to follow behind the great warrior?”

  He turned on his heel. “You dare to criticize me for a lack of courtesy ? After what you have done?”

  “I made a misjudgment, that is all,” she said. “I admit I should not have gone to meet Gloucester in his apartments.”

  “Misjudgment! Misjudgment!” he shouted, raising his arms.

  “Nothing happened with Gloucester,” she said. “How can you think I would ever let him touch me?”

  “Not let him touch you? God’s blood, Linnet, you were sitting on his goddamned lap!”

  “All right,” she said, fighting for control. “I already admitted it was a mistake to go to his bedchamber, but I did nothing wrong. He grabbed me before I knew it. Men do that to women sometimes.”

  “Nay, it does not happen to other women,” he bit out.

  “Not to virtuous women, you mean?” she said, leaning forward with her hands on her hips. “Women like Agnes Stafford?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I suppose she is just the sort of woman you want.” She clasped her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes. “One who will sit at home meekly awaiting your bidding.”

  “I will for certain not have to worry about finding her in other men’s bedchambers, doing God knows what!”

  His words were like a blow. She stepped back, tears stinging at the back of her eyes. In a low voice, she said, “I would never bed another man.”

  “But you damned well would let him think you would,” he hissed at her. “What man wants a wife who lets other men believe she will bed them? Or who will let them get that close?”

  He was so angry she could hear his ragged breathing.

  “You could not have believed I would accept your going alone to Gloucester’s bedchamber,” he said, his eyes burning holes into her. “Nay, you just thought I would never find out.”

  The truth of his words cut through her. Still, she tried to defend herself. “If you understood my need to find justice for my grandfather, I could have told you. But you never wanted to listen. You never wanted to hear it.”

  “The dead do not want or need your justice,” he said. “Could you not sacrifice this dangerous obsession for me? For the life we could have together?”

  “And what sacrifice would you make for me?” she asked in a choked voice. “Must all the sacrifice be mine?”

  “You have sacrificed nothing!” The bite of bitterness was hard in his voice. “I will not have a wife who will lie to me and bring shame upon my family and upon my children.”

  The harshness of his judgment made her spirits drop so low that her limbs felt heavy and weak. Still, she forced herself to step closer and touch his arm.

  “Jamie, is there no hope for us?”

  He jerked his arm away as if her touch had singed him. “How could I do my duty and return to France? I cannot be wondering who my wife will cozy up to as part of some foolish scheme of hers while I’m gone.
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  “And I will warn you,” he said, narrowing his eyes and jabbing his finger at her. “You may find that when you lead men to water, there are some who will insist on taking a drink.”

  He spun away from her and began striding back toward the castle. Linnet had to hold her skirts high and half run to keep up with him.

  “What else did you keep from me?” he spat out without turning to look at her. “How many ways did you make a fool of me this time?”

  “ ’Twas just the one time, I swear it.” She held on to her headdress with one hand as she trotted beside him. “And I did not make a fool of you. You know there is no one else.”

  “What I know is that once again there was something more important to you than the bond between us.”

  “ ’Tis not true.”

  “More important than the life we could have had together.”

  “Nay,I—”

  “More important than keeping your word to me.” “But I also made a pledge to my gran—”

  “More important than me.”

  “Nay, not more im—”

  “And there always will be something more important than me.”

  “But I love you,” she pleaded. “I love you with all my heart.”

  He halted and turned on her, his eyes blazing. “I’ve seen how it is between my mother and father, and between Stephen and Isobel, and I can tell you this: True love does not come last. ’Tis not what you consider after every other blessed thing.”

  He lifted his hands palm out and began stepping backward. “I am done waiting for you to put aside the hate that will surely destroy you. I am done with all of it. I am done with you.”

  Choking back tears and clenching her fists, she said, “Then you deserve a dull wife like Agnes who will bore you to death.”

  “Lady Agnes is exactly the sort of wife I want,” he shouted back at her. “A woman who is predictable and faithful. A woman who will be a steady influence on our children.”

  “For all her virtues,” she said, her anger rising, “I’ll wager she’ll not go cheerfully to your bed.”