Notorious (3 page)

“Course she does,” her brother declared. “Who do you think taught me?”

Wolf knew she would not be able to resist, especially when told she should not indulge.

Brianna looked at her cousin and said lightly, “I shouldn't…but I shall! Thank you for making my decision for me, Lincoln.” She took the dice that were held out so temptingly on Wolf Mortimer's palm. “What was your last throw?”

“I rolled a ten.”

She looked directly into his eyes and saw the bold challenge. “I can beat that.” She cast the dice with the aplomb of a goddess bestowing a favor on mere mortals, and then walked away as if she were completely confident of the outcome.

“Double six!” Her brother laughed. “Now, that was luck.”

Wolf's eyes gleamed with admiration. “No, that was pride.” He scooped up the dice before anyone else could touch them. He knew that traces of Brianna's essence would be left upon them and, if he chose, he could use it for his own purpose.

 

Jory de Beauchamp was enjoying a rare conversation with her brother before they retired. “Poor Lynx, you chose an unfortunate time to visit. The moment you arrived, you were whisked away and embroiled in the trouble of others.”

“The shameful way the country is being run affects all of us. The barons must stand together. Edward is so weak and feckless. The Despencers have usurped the king's royal power. We must take it back from them—we have no choice.”

“Now that you have inherited the earldom of Surrey, you must find the burden of your responsibilities much heavier.”

“Not really. I've been earl in all but name for some time because of our uncle John's ill health.”

Jory placed her small hand upon his large one. “Yes, he relied upon you for so much, and you never let him down.”

“That's debatable, Minx. The Earl of Surrey as well as his cousin Pembroke were always staunch king's men. Now that the earldom is mine, I'm taking the side of the barons.”

“The Earl of Pembroke is the king's godfather. He made vows that he will not break, no matter how dishonorable Edward becomes. You are doing what is right and just,” she assured him.

“I actually came to ask your advice. Jane hasn't seen her family in over sixteen years and I know she would dearly love to return to Scotland for a visit. Since there is a signed truce in effect, do you think such a journey would be safe?”

“I see no physical danger, but would it be politically advisable? You surely don't imagine King Edward has forgiven the barons who refused to take their troops and fight at Bannockburn?”

He grinned. “Lancaster, Warwick, Arundel, and de Warenne. We were within our legal rights to refuse. The king did not get Parliament's permission to go to war with Scotland.”

“That was the excuse you used. You and Arundel were boyhood friends with Robert Bruce. Your lands in Essex ran together.”

“Before we left Scotland, I swore an oath to Robert that I would never again take up arms against him. I suspect Warwick refused to fight at Bannockburn for love of you, Jory.”

“Well, he may have wanted to kill Robert for having once been my lover, but Guy truly believed that the Bruce was the rightful King of Scotland.” She quickly changed the subject. “Rickard answered the call to arms, as did Roger Mortimer. They have always been loyal to the king.”

“At least spending the years in Ireland kept them out of the barons' continual quarrels with the king.”

“Until now. Where is the thanks for all they have done? The king turns a blind eye while his lover, Despencer, steals their land in the Welsh Marches.”

“Well, we can make no plans for Jane to visit Scotland until this trouble has been resolved. Perhaps next year. Do you have no desire to see Scotland again, Jory?”

“No, none. My heart belongs to Warwick.”

Lynx knew that his sister meant Warwick the man and not the castle. “Here he comes. I will bid you good night.”

As Guy and Jory ascended the stairs of the Master Tower, her husband took her hand. “I'm sorry your visit with your brother was cut short, love.”

“I considered asking him to stay longer, then decided against it. I know Lynx is eager to go home to Jane.”

“It's the very devil when you're in love with your wife.”

Jory began to unfasten her gown. “Is it indeed? Most men don't have that problem.”

“Let me do that.” Guy removed her gown and caressed her bare shoulders.

“Mortimer for instance. His wife, Joan, remained in Ireland. He told me she prefers it to Wales because she lives on a grand scale, but I happen to know that Roger transformed both Wigmore and Ludlow into veritable palaces. In Wales, Mortimer lives like an independent prince. They
choose
to live apart. They have been estranged since their youngest daughter was born.”

Guy disrobed quickly. “Their families wed them so young, they had no say in the matter.” His eyes followed her possessively as she hung her gown in the wardrobe.

“The marriage was to gain land and castles for the ambitious Mortimers. It wasn't a love match, though they have certainly produced enough children.”

“Yes, Mortimer is a good father. He made excellent matches for four of his daughters with the sons of England's wealthiest nobles.”

“He will be ambitious for his sons. I hear he has approached Lord Badlesmere, who owns Leeds Castle in Kent. He's arranged a betrothal between his heir, Edmund, and Badlesmere's daughter. The girl's mother is a de Clare and Mortimer knows that family owns almost half of Wales.”

Warwick swooped up his wife and carried her to their bed. “Enough of Mortimer. Are you trying to make me jealous of the virile devil?”

Jory reveled in the prolonged foreplay. His kisses and caresses always thrilled her to her very core. When Warwick made love to her, he made her feel beautiful and special and her body responded to his every touch. After an hour of lovemaking, they spent together and Jory stretched languidly with satisfaction.

Guy's arms came about her again and pulled her against his body. She was surprised to feel his hard erection against her belly. “You are extremely amorous and possessive tonight, my darling. What stirs such deep passion?”

Suddenly, Jory went very still.

“You are leaving me! You are returning to Wales with Mortimer to fight the Despencers.”

“I am.” His deep voice was implacable. “My dearest love, I have no choice. The barons have pledged to stand together.”

Jory's heart contracted.
What if it's civil war? It could be a fight to the death!
She took a deep breath and masked her fear. “Of course you must go. Mortimer could not have a stronger ally.”

 

Wolf Mortimer sat on the edge of the bed, the pair of dice held loosely in his hand. He conjured a picture of Brianna de Beauchamp in his mind and concentrated upon it until it came into sharp focus. Then he freed his thoughts to seek out her chamber so that he could enter and observe her with his inner eye.

He smiled in the darkness as he watched her ready herself for bed. When she removed her shift and revealed a pair of firm, high breasts, a wave of pleasure washed over him. When she donned a night rail that concealed her nakedness and covered her long slim legs, he experienced a moment of disappointment.

The young beauty stepped before a mirror and began to brush her lovely red-gold hair and his enjoyment returned. He watched her lay the brush down and approach the bed. To his surprise she did not pull back the covers, but sank down onto her knees. He heard her voice, earnest and contrite.

“It was wrong of me to call the wolf wretched. I did not mean it. I truly love all animals. She is a beautiful creature.” Brianna whispered the wolf's name with reverence.
“Shadow.”

Wolf glanced down at the silver wolf that lay at his feet. “She is thinking of you and speaks your name. Go to her.”

The animal arose and padded to the door. Wolf Mortimer, silent as the night, followed her.

 

The next morning, Brianna was awakened by Mary. “Are you all right, lovey? You're usually up and about at this hour.”

“I feel fine, Mary.” Brianna threw back the covers and got out of bed. “I had the strangest dream. Some great wild beast—I think it was a lion—threatened the safety of everyone here at Warwick, so Father and Guy Thomas went off to hunt it. A dark angel came to me and enfolded me in his wings to protect me. I felt safe and warm and had no fear, even when the beast approached. The dark angel turned into a wolf and savaged the lion. Then it lay down beside me to guard me until I awoke.”

“That's simple enough to interpret. The threat of the lion is the king, and your father is preparing to leave for the Marches.”

“Preparing to leave? I had no idea!” Brianna dressed immediately, dragged the brush through her tangled curls, and tossed her hair back over her shoulders.

“What's this?” Mary picked up a small silver disk that lay amongst the covers and handed it to her.

Brianna examined the small object that looked like a medallion from a dog's collar. She turned it over and saw it was inscribed with a name. “Shadow,” she whispered, as fragments of her ethereal dream scattered and moved just beyond her recollection.

Brianna hurried to the Great Hall where she found her mother conversing with their castle steward, Mr. Burke. “Is it true? Is Father returning with Roger Mortimer to the Welsh Border country?”

“Yes, my dear. He's readying the men-at-arms now. We need not worry; he will leave a strong guard to protect Warwick. When they are ready to depart, we will see them off together.”

Brianna noticed that her mother was unusually pale this morning, yet she gave no hint that she was the least bit troubled. “You have so much courage. I promise to put on a brave face when Father leaves.”

Guy Thomas came rushing into the hall, unable to hide his excitement. “Father says I may go too!”

Brianna saw her mother's face blanch at her son's words.

Jory opened her mouth and closed it again while she gathered her thoughts that had been thrown into sudden disarray. She composed herself quickly. “I'll come and help you pack the things you will need.”

He squirmed. “Please…I'm going on a man's mission, I don't need my mother to hold my hand.”

Mr. Burke cut in smoothly, “I will advise you on what to take. We must make haste, you don't want to hold up the other men.”

Jory looked at her daughter. “He's fourteen.”

Brianna sought for strengthening words. “Roger Mortimer was wed at fourteen, and a father at fifteen.”

“I suppose Warwick was that age too when he wed the first time. Why do they rush headlong into manhood? Why can they not wait?”

“The same reason we cannot wait to become women.”

Jory's smile was tremulous. “Real women wear their best gowns and jewels and hold their heads up proudly when their men depart. It gives a lasting impression that we believe they are invincible, that they will win every battle and return home victorious.”

Brianna spied Lincoln Robert and his brother, Jamie, who were carrying out their packed saddlebags. She hurried to their side, her heart in her mouth. “Are you riding to the Welsh Borders?”

“Unfortunately, no—I'd give anything to go with them. Father has promised to send troops, so we are returning to Hedingham,” Lincoln said ruefully. He smiled down at her. “However, it pleases me beyond measure that you are concerned for my safety.”

Brianna felt relief, though she understood Lincoln's regret. Like all young males he was eager to prove his manhood in armed conflict. “I'm sorry you are leaving. I shall miss you.” Impulsively she hugged him. “Take good care of yourself. You too, Jamie. Say hello to Aunt Jane for me.”

 

Two hours later, mother and daughter, gowned in velvet and fur capes, with emeralds glittering at their throats, stood proudly in the courtyard as the mounted men cantered by. The Warwick banners, each displaying a golden bear against a field of black, fluttered bravely in the stiff breeze. The de Beauchamp ladies raised their hands and waved as the Infamous Warwick, with his son at his side, departed.

How could I have doubted your love for me? May God keep you both safe and return you to us with all speed.
The feeling of deep pride for the great courage they displayed helped to ease some of Brianna's apprehension. She had had a private good-bye with her father earlier, as had her mother. This public good-bye was for all the men.

Following the Warwick men-at-arms, Roger Mortimer, flanked by his sons, rode by and gallantly saluted the ladies.

Wolf Mortimer, his helmet tucked beneath his arm, his black hair streaming in the breeze, caught and held Brianna's gaze. His challenging gray eyes held a promise that this would not be the last time they would meet.

Brianna was clutching the small silver medallion so tightly, it felt as if it were burning a hole in her palm. She sent up a silent prayer:
Please keep his wolf safe.