Knight of Passion (17 page)

“Aye,” she said on a breath as he finally took her breast in his mouth and sent sensations jangling through her every nerve.
She arched her back, wanting more still, but his hand moving up the inside of her leg distracted her. When he cupped her,
she gasped.

Jamie had magic in his fingers. He claimed her mouth again as they did their work, racking her body with an onslaught of pleasure
and tension.
Not yet
, she was going to say, because she did not want this only for her… and then she didn’t care.

“You are mine,” he said against her ear, and she was. She exploded into waves of pleasure.

Before she could catch her breath, he rolled her so that she lay on top of him. His shaft pressed against her, reminding her
of his need and reigniting hers. One of his hands gripped her bottom and the other covered her breast as they kissed surrounded
by the curtain of her hair.

She eased herself slowly down his body as she pressed kisses to his neck and chest. Straddling him, she turned her face to
feel the hair of his chest against her cheek. He seemed to hold his breath as she ran her tongue down the center of his chest,
tasting the salt of his skin. When she circled his nipple with her tongue, he groaned and gripped her hips.

She moved to one side of him and reached for his shaft, wanting to feel the hardness of his need for her. As she wrapped her
hand around it, his moan echoed her own desire. She pressed wet kisses down his chest and stomach, letting her hair slide
over him as she held his stiff rod in her hand. She wanted to please him, to pleasure him, to make him hers.

Her cheek brushed his shaft as she ran her kisses lower.

“ ’Tis more than I can stand,” he said, but he did not stop her when she took him in her mouth. His hands were in her hair,
and his hips rose to meet her as she moved her mouth up and down. His moans egged her on and made her ache between her legs.

Suddenly, he sat up, pulling her up with him. Strong arms lifted her onto his lap. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said, his
voice thick with desire. “I want to be inside you when I have my release.”

Her womb tightened at his words. “I want us to be one,” he said.

His hands splayed over her back, holding her tight against him, as he took her mouth in hot, deep kisses.

She lifted herself to position the tip of his shaft at her entrance. The feel of him against her sent a spasm of anticipation
through her.

She put her hands on either side of Jamie’s face and looked into his eyes. Her emotions were so strong they choked her, overwhelmed
her. She feared she might weep, though from joy or sadness she did not know. She wanted to take him inside her and make him
a part of her forever.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she did not. “Jesus, help me,” Jamie cried between clenched teeth as she lowered
herself onto him.

The sensation of him sliding inside her was so intense, she gasped and squeezed her eyes closed.

Hearts racing and breathing hard, they clung to each other, fighting to remain still to prolong the moment. When he reached
between them to touch her, she was almost too sensitive to bear it. Then he began to move inside her. She felt the pressure
build and build inside her until a burst of stars lit up her vision as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

But he did not stop. With his hands gripping her hips now, he moved against her without mercy, his breath coming in ragged
gasps. The tension built inside her again, and she rocked against him, her hands clawing at his back.

From a distance, she heard him calling out to her as jolts of sensation shook her again. This time, they were so strong that
she screamed. She screamed his name.

He wrapped his arms so tightly around her she could not breathe and fell back against the bed, bringing her
with him. She lay on top of him, both of them breathing hard, their skin glistening with sweat.

“Jesus and all the saints!” he said, as if in praise of the miracle that had occurred between them.

She rested her head against his chest. His heart was beating as fast as hers, urgent and insistent in her ear.

This could not be normal. Other people could not feel this.

At this moment, everything she was, everything she wanted was here with him. She forgot the queen and Owen. Forgot her enemies.
When she was in Jamie’s arms like this, all else faded to nothing. It frightened her that something so fleeting could make
her forget everything else she wanted, everything she had worked so hard to achieve.

If she forgot them, what would she have when Jamie left her?

Linnet trailed her fingers down Jamie’s chest and sighed. Sometimes after they made love, she could almost believe things
were as they once had been between them. Almost.

But they were both wiser and more jaded now. In sooth, she had always been jaded. Perhaps it was growing up knowing she had
a father who didn’t care what happened to her. And from the time she was thirteen, men had told her lies and attempted to
seduce her.

Jamie had thought himself worldly back then, being three years older and a warrior. And he was, in some ways. But at his core,
he had been such an innocent.

Fighting had not taken that from him. She had.

She had been too young herself at the time to appreciate the purity—and, aye, the rarity—of his love for
her. ’Twas a wondrous thing he had given her; she knew that now.

He desired her now as much as ever. If possible, the bedding was even better than before. He liked her, enjoyed spending time
with her. But once, he had given her the kind of love that held nothing back, and she knew the difference. Jamie might feel
some affection for her, but he would not give her his heart again. He would save it for the woman he wed.

She laid her head back down on his chest, needing to feel his warmth radiate through her.

How long before he decided he needed a wife? She knew him. Jamie would want a woman he could openly share his life with. How
long would she have him before he left her for the quiet, staid life he wanted?

She swallowed and blinked against the sting in her eyes. He’d left her once. He would do it again. Everyone did, save for
Francois.

It hurt her pride that she cared so much more for him than he for her. She was used to men trailing her, begging for her favors.
But Jamie just had to give her that look and crook his finger, and she would follow him into a soggy field to make love against
a tree in a downpour.

His breathing was the steady rhythm of sleep, so she got up on her hands and knees to look at him. Her heart hurt as her gaze
drifted over the strong planes of his face in repose.

When he opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth curved up.

“You are a lovely sight to wake up to,” he said and brushed his knuckles lightly against her cheek. Then he drew his brows
together. “But why are you sad?”

She shook her head.

He pulled her down against him and gave her a melting kiss that eased the ache in her heart. Nay, she would not be sad. No
matter how much it hurt her later, she would make the most of the time she had with him.

J
amie took a long ride along the river to get away from the chaos in the castle. After the quiet weeks of November and early
December, Windsor had become abuzz with activity overnight. Servants scurried to and fro, hanging greenery and preparing chambers
for the many guests expected to arrive for Christmas Court.

Jamie preferred the castle when it was quiet and nearly empty.

As he cantered past, a flock of ducks rose from the mist of the river and formed a V above him. He drew in deep breaths, filling
his lungs with the cold, damp air, and felt better. A man was not meant to spend so much time indoors. What he wanted was
an estate far from London—a place where he would know all his tenants and their families, as his parents did. He and Linnet
could make a good life there.

The Duke of Bedford was bound to reward him for his services. Bedford had hinted at an estate in Normandy, but Jamie was holding
out for lands in England. They were harder to come by, but England was home. He wanted his children to be born and bred on
English soil.

“You needed this, too, didn’t you, boy?” He patted Thunder’s neck. A great warhorse was not made to be cooped up any more
than he was.

Reluctantly, he turned Thunder around and rode back up the path. Windsor’s huge, distinctive Round Tower loomed ahead as a
constant reminder of what lay ahead of him: a month of endless talk, silly entertainment, and political maneuvering. He hated
it. Give him a good horse and a sword in his hand, any day.

Everyone of importance was expected to make an appearance at Christmas Court. That meant Jamie would have to keep his eyes
open for danger to the queen. Many of the wealthy merchants, and some of the nobles as well, suspected the queen of secretly
supporting her brother’s claim to the French throne.

As Jamie neared the castle, his squire came out the gate and ran up the path to meet him. Thunder’s breath came out in white
puffs as he reined in.

“Good boy,” Jamie said and swung down.

“A message came for you, Sir James,” Martin said, holding out a rolled parchment.

Jamie handed Martin the reins and took the parchment. “Thunder will need a good rubbing-down.”

Jamie broke the seal and read the short missive. “Bedford has returned,” he said as he rolled it back up. “He has taken up
residence at Westminster. I am to go to him at once.”

A few weeks ago, he had prayed diligently for Bedford’s return to England. Now that he no longer wanted it, this was the one
prayer God chose to answer. The mysteries of heaven.

With Bedford in England, Jamie’s assignment to watch
over the queen was at an end. Bedford’s authority was accepted, and his support for the queen was unqualified. His presence
ensured her safety—at least from the risks known to Bedford. The queen’s getting caught in an affair with Owen Tudor was not,
however, among the hazards Bedford anticipated.

“She is the most unfortunate of women.” That was what King Henry had said of his young queen on his deathbed—and Bedford still
believed it. No one honored the dead king’s memory more. Bedford would be surprised to learn the queen wished to share her
bed with
any
man after the glorious Henry; the good man’s heart might fail him if he knew she was bedding her Clerk of the Wardrobe.

Regardless, Jamie had lost his excuse to tarry at Windsor. It was time, then, to settle matters with Linnet. He had grown
increasingly impatient with the way things stood in any case.

“Be ready to leave at dawn,” he said to Martin as they entered the gate. “I want to reach Westminster before nightfall on
the morrow.”

He left Martin to return Thunder to the stables and marched across the upper ward. It was time to push Linnet to the wall
and see what she would do.

He found Linnet waiting for him in what had become their usual meeting place—the empty bedchamber in the wing opposite the
royal apartments.

After greeting her, he went to the narrow table against the wall where they kept a flagon of wine.

He spoke with his back to her as he poured a cup for them to share. “Bedford has returned from France.”

When he turned, he caught no sign of dismay in her
expression. With an inward sigh, he went to join her at the window seat.

“Praise God, Bedford is here,” she said, taking the cup from his hands. “No one else can control Gloucester.”

Not the reaction he hoped for, but perhaps she did not yet grasp what Bedford’s return meant for him and this affair of theirs.

“Aye, Gloucester will behave whilst his brother is in England,” he said as he settled beside her on the bench. “The Council
named Gloucester the Protector of England only in Bedford’s absence—a wise move. Gloucester lost his authority the moment
Bedford set foot on the English shore.”

Jamie rested his hand on her thigh. If so much were not at stake, he would enjoy sitting and having a quiet talk with her
like this.

“Bedford cannot be well pleased with his brother,” she said. “First, Gloucester marries Jacqueline de Hainaut before King
Henry was in the ground, when everyone knew the king had forbidden the marriage.”

It was not Gloucester’s marriage Jamie wished to discuss.

Linnet, however, was so incensed with Gloucester that she waved her hands about as she spoke. “He only wed Jacqueline because
of her claim on Zeeland and Hainaut.”

Gloucester’s failed expedition to take Zeeland and Hainaut in his wife’s name had diverted funds and men that Bedford badly
needed for the war in France. Even worse, the expedition had nearly led to a break with Burgundy, England’s critical ally
in that war, because Burgundy also claimed Zeeland and Hainaut.

“If I were Bedford,” Linnet said, her beautiful face as hard as granite, “I’d chain Gloucester in the dungeon for all the
trouble he’s caused.”

“Lucky for Gloucester, his brother has a more forgiving nature than you do.” Jamie smiled and squeezed her thigh. “You have
heard that forgiveness is a virtue?”

“Hmmph.” She crossed her arms. “A man who shows no repentance deserves no forgiveness.”

No mercy for Gloucester. It was time to find out if she had any for him.

“Bedford has summoned me to Westminster. I leave early on the morrow.”

He felt her stiffen beside him. With her eyes straight ahead, she said, “How long will you be gone?”

“I cannot say.” He shrugged. “A few days, a week perhaps.”

She turned and said, “I shall miss you.”

He would have preferred, “Do not go,” or “Take me with you.” Still, it was better than nothing.

Then she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, and that was better still.

“Come to London with me,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “We could stay at your London house, where we would not have to sneak
about to be alone.”

“I like sneaking about with you.”

Well, he did not. He was damned tired of clandestine meetings and creeping about as if he were bedding another man’s wife.
That was fine in the days when he did occasionally bed other men’s wives. But not now. Not with Linnet.