Knight of Passion (4 page)

“I have a duty to protect the queen from every sort of danger,” he said. “Tell me why you are here.”

She glared at him. “Because she asked me.”

She turned and marched toward the door. With his longer strides, he reached it first. He stood in front of it, arms folded
across his chest, blocking her way.

“Why did she ask you?” he said. “And why did you come?”

“Because I am her friend, and she is friendless here,” she said, clenching her fists. “They have taken her only child from
her care, and she cannot even choose his nursemaids. They treat her so poorly, it is almost as if they believe she is in league
with her brother, the dauphin.”

Linnet’s heart fluttered as Jamie leaned closer.

In a low voice, he asked, “Is she?”

“Of course not!” she said, taking a step back. “Our French princess was raised to never have an opinion, to avoid conflict
at any cost, and to do exactly as she was told.”

“That has served her well,” Jamie said. “I hate to think what you might be teaching her.”

“I would not let her make the mistake of supporting the dauphin,” she hissed at him. “A poorer excuse for a king I hope to
never see.”

“So you are the queen’s confidante?” Jamie asked.

“I am exceedingly fond of her, and I do try to advise her…” Linnet raised her hands in the air. “But when I warn her she must
walk a careful line between Gloucester and Bishop Beaufort, she responds by asking what they are wearing now in Paris.”

She took a deep breath and made herself stop speaking. With the news that Gloucester was about to arrive, she was out of her
mind with worry about the queen. And
then, Jamie’s pointed remark about virtuous wives had upset her further.

“What you said was unfair,” she said, her eyes hot on his. “I never said you were boring. I merely said I did not want that
kind of life.”

His eyes sparked blue fire, and she had the satisfaction of breaking through his facade of calm control. Jamie could make
nasty allusions all he wanted, but he did not expect her to speak directly about what happened between them five years ago.

He clenched his fists and leaned forward, as if to shout in her face. She hoped he did. Instead, he stepped back. With his
jaw tight, he stretched his neck, tilting his head from side to side.

When he spoke, his voice was as calm as pond water. “We had best join the queen for dinner.”

She refused to take the arm he offered. The walk down the stairs and the endless corridor took forever.

“I am surprised you are still looking for a wife,” she said to goad him. “Surely you found another innocent virgin to seduce
into marriage.”

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “I did not seduce you, as you know damned well.”

“Hmmph.” She turned her head and tilted her chin up. She could not contradict him; that did not mean she had to agree.

He released his grip on her arm and blew out his breath.

“What method will you use to get a wife then?” she asked as they resumed walking down the corridor. “Since you are unlikely
to win her with your excessive charm, I assume you will have your family arrange it?”

“That is the customary method,” he bit out. “But I have reason to hope Bedford or his uncle will suggest an appropriate lady.”

He must have impressed Bedford, indeed, to have the royal family facilitating a match.

“An appropriate lady, meaning a very rich one?” she asked in her sweetest possible voice. “And virtuous, of course.”

The muscles of Jamie’s jaw tightened, and he kept his eyes straight ahead.

“Rich and virtuous. Qualities to
satisfy
”—she paused over the word—“any man, I’m sure.”

They had finally reached the hall, so she left Jamie without a backward glance and went in search of Edmund Beaufort. Young,
handsome, brilliant—and unmarried—Edmund was the brightest hope of the next generation of Beauforts. And Linnet had an urgent
need to speak to him.

When she spotted him, she wanted to groan aloud. How many times had she warned the queen to avoid showing favor to this particular
young man, above all others? But nay, Queen Katherine must go straight to Edmund with a bright smile, take his arm, and invite
him to sit in the seat of honor beside her.

Linnet could have slapped her for being so stupid. Nay, the queen was not stupid. She simply had a flirtatious nature. After
a girlhood in a convent and marriage to the glorious King Henry, it was only now coming into bloom.

Linnet would wager all she owned that Edmund Beaufort had been instructed by his uncle to woo the queen. No doubt, Edmund
found the queen charming and pretty,
for she was. But he was a Beaufort; it was a calculated move. If Edmund became the young king’s stepfather, he could yield
untold influence on the boy for years to come.

The prospect of that occurring would send Gloucester into apoplexy. If rumor of the queen’s flirtation with Edmund had reached
Gloucester’s ears, that would explain why he had acted so rashly, raising that fervor in London.

Nearly everyone else was seated, so Linnet hurried to take her place at the end of the high table. Ignoring the attempts of
the men on either side to engage her in conversation, she kept watch on the queen and Edmund.

The saints preserve her! The queen and Edmund were staring into each other’s eyes. When the queen fed Edmund an oyster with
her fingers, Linnet put away her eating knife. She had to get Edmund away from Eltham before Gloucester arrived.

Jamie, who sat at the other end of the table, was also watching the queen and Beaufort—with a sour expression on his face.
Suddenly, his gaze shifted, and their eyes locked. Why did Jamie Rayburn have to be here now? She would not let the tumultuous
emotions he provoked distract her.

Nor did she intend to listen to any more of his damned insults. She broke the gaze and stood.

She walked behind the high table and whispered her excuse in the queen’s ear. “If my dinner companion attempts to put his
hand on my leg one more time, I am sure to cause a scene.” Raising her voice enough for Edmund Beaufort to hear, she said,
“Will you forgive me, Your Grace, if I escape for a short ride?”

“Of course,” the queen said, “if you promise to tell me later which one it was.”

Linnet straightened and met Beaufort’s gaze before she left.

Just outside the entrance to the hall, she stopped a squire. “Could you deliver a message for me?”

The squire stared at her with wide eyes. “I am happy to be of service, m’lady. Anything you ask.”

He sucked in his breath as she leaned closer. “Count to one hundred,” she said next to his ear. “Then go tell Edmund Beaufort
I await him in the stables.”

She straightened and put a finger to her lips. “Don’t let anyone else hear you give him the message.”

As soon as the meal was finished, Jamie went to find Edmund Beaufort. The compromise that was reached last night would be
blown apart if the queen made a fool of herself with Edmund Beaufort in front of Gloucester. After a quick search of the castle,
he caught sight of his new squire, Martin.

“Help me find Edmund Beaufort,” he said.

The lad turned a bright shade of red. What was the matter with him?

“Have you tried the stables?” Martin asked.

“Why? Did you see him go there?”

“He was heading in that direction,” Martin said. “He seemed in a hurry.”

“Perhaps the man had the sense to leave on his own,” Jamie said, more to himself than to his squire.

Martin cleared his throat. “I don’t believe his thoughts were on leaving.”

“Why do you say that?”

Martin looked pained. “I cannot tell you.”

God’s beard. “Then I shall find out for myself,” he spat out.

Jamie wondered if he had made a mistake in taking on Martin as his squire. He’d done so only because the knight the lad had
been serving died in France.

As he stalked to the stables, his mind returned to Linnet—and her nasty remark about a wealthy and virtuous wife being sufficient
to “satisfy” him. Perhaps he should have told her he also wished for a wife who could make him forget his name in bed. But
only one woman had ever been able to do that.

The moment he walked through the door of the stables, he saw the very one. Linnet stood with her back to him, stroking and
talking to the white palfrey she had ridden on the bridge.

He held his breath as she took the horse’s head between her hands and kissed its forehead. Now he knew why the horse would
follow her through a riot.

Jamie stepped into the shadows as Edmund Beaufort came out from the interior of the stable with a page who was leading his
horse. Linnet turned and gave Beaufort a dazzling smile.

So it was Linnet who had brought Beaufort to the stables. Jamie would have to ask Martin how he knew.

“Thank you,” Linnet said to Beaufort. “Leaving Eltham now is the only wise course.”

Beaufort took her hand. “Come with me.”

“I cannot leave the queen alone with Gloucester,” she said, laughter tinkling in her voice. “He’d eat her alive and toss away
the bones.”

“Before I go, I must tell you,” Beaufort said, lifting her hand to his lips, “you are the most exciting woman I have ever
known.”

“I can hardly count that a compliment, sir, when you are but nineteen and have spent the last seven years as a hostage.”

Beaufort laughed. “ ’Twas a gilded jail. I was not completely deprived of female company.”

“Cavorting with dauphinists, were you? For shame. Just wait until I tell your uncle.”

The blood roared in Jamie’s ears. He remembered how often he had been wrenched with jealousy in the weeks they were together
in Paris. How many times had he watched other men approach her? Being in love with a beautiful woman had been hell on earth.
He’d borne it without killing anyone only because he believed Linnet would never go with another man. Fool that he was, he
had believed she loved him.

Edmund Beaufort spoke again. “I do love the queen—”

Linnet interrupted him with a snort.

“But she is a bit… simple. If I could marry whom I wished, I would choose you.”

Jamie wanted to vomit.

“Was it your great-uncle Geoffrey Chaucer who taught you to speak with that silver tongue?” Linnet’s voice was laden with
sarcasm.

“If you were my mistress, you could advise me,” Beaufort said. “Think of all we could accomplish together.”

“And I am sure listening to my advice is all you have in mind,” Linnet said, giving Beaufort’s arm what looked like a hard
pinch. “Come, Edmund, you must be gone now.”

Suddenly, Beaufort had Linnet flattened against his chest. With a wicked smile, he said, “My price for leaving is a kiss.”

“Beaufort,” Jamie said, stepping out from the shadows. “The lady gives you wise counsel. You should go quickly.”

The scoundrel gave a deep sigh before releasing her.

“I beg you to consider my proposal,” Beaufort said in a low voice as he brought Linnet’s hand to his lips yet again. “
Adieu, ma belle. Adieu.
”

As soon as Beaufort went to join his men-at-arms waiting outside the stable, Jamie said, “I would advise you not to become
entangled with Edmund Beaufort.”

Linnet turned wide eyes on him. “Entangled with Edmund?”

“I suppose you will say you were only flirting with him to protect your friend?”

“Someone had to get him to leave.” She shrugged. “ ’Tis dangerous for the queen to flirt with Edmund, but there is no harm
in my doing it.”

“And if flirting is not enough to divert him from the queen, what then?”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him for a long moment. Then she turned and called out to two stable lads who were
forking hay on the other side of the stable.

“Could one of you saddle my horse for me?”

Both lads came running. In the blink of an eye, the damned horse was saddled and ready.

“When you see the queen, tell her I will meet her at Westminster tomorrow,” she said to Jamie as she pulled on riding gloves.
“Don’t leave her alone with Gloucester.”

Jamie followed her out and watched as the two boys jostled each other to help her mount her horse.

When she was on it, Jamie asked through clenched teeth, “Where shall I tell the queen you’ve gone?”

“I have matters to attend to in the City,” she said.
Matters involving Edmund Beaufort and a bed?
Blood pulsed in his head and hands.

“Private matters,” she added, to twist the blade, “that are of no concern to you.”

He watched as she galloped off after Beaufort on her white horse. Damn the woman.

L
innet strode through the wool merchant’s house, her heart pounding in her ears. The smell of the river seeped through the
walls and permeated the air, carrying with it a flood of memories.

As she moved from room to room, she gave instructions to the clerk trailing behind her.

“Sell that… and that,” she said, pointing to an ornately carved chair and a side table as she passed. Most of the furniture
had not belonged to her family, and so she did not want it.

This had been their London house. For as long as she could remember, she, Francois, and their grandfather had stayed here
when their grandfather made his twice-yearly trip to trade with the London merchants. It was never grand like their houses
in Falaise and Calais. Still, it seemed much smaller and shabbier than in her memory.

As with most merchant houses, her grandfather had conducted his trade on the ground floor. The kitchen was behind the house,
and the family’s solar and bedchambers were above the shop.

Linnet paused on the threshold to the solar. She smiled,
remembering the evenings she and Francois had spent playing chess or backgammon on the floor by the coal brazier.

“Anything you wish to keep in this room?” her clerk asked.

A footstool in the corner caught her eye. She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she recalled lifting her grandfather’s
feet onto it at the end of a long day.

“Send that to my new house,” she said.