He turned to find two of the queen’s French ladies-in-waiting hovering nearby. Though both were vaguely attractive, he could
never remember which was which.
“Good day, ladies,�� he said and bowed. “May I escort you to the table?”
The women would likely starve before one of the other men would take them. How could anyone suspect these silly women of being
spies?
“
Merci
, Sir James,” the ladies twittered as each took an arm.
He took his seat between them for another insufferably grand meal. When he looked up, he saw that his ill luck was holding.
In this gathering of notables, both he and Linnet were seated “below the salt,” at tables perpendicular to the high table.
She sat directly opposite him.
And Edmund Beaufort, whose status surely afforded him a place at the high table, was sitting next to her.
“Do you see that gown on Lady Eleanor Cobham?” one of his dinner companions said, leaning forward to whisper across him to
her friend. “If she sneezes, her breasts will fall out.”
“And that headdress,” the other replied in a low voice. “A high wind, and she shall be carried out to sea.”
Jamie pulled at the neck of his tunic and wondered if he could leave now without insulting them. To avoid looking at Linnet,
he turned his attention to the high table and saw that the ladies did not exaggerate about Eleanor’s gown. But then, Eleanor
never had been subtle.
Her lover, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, sat in the seat of honor next to the boy-king. Though it was not yet noon, Gloucester
was soused. He had won this round against his uncle and was celebrating. Because Gloucester was Protector and Defender of
England, the bishop’s threat to use force to prevent his crossing the river could be interpreted as treason. Consequently,
the bishop had been forced to apologize for the confrontation on the bridge.
But Jamie thought Gloucester celebrated too soon. Gloucester was full of bombast and bluster, but he lacked his uncle’s perseverance.
While he was here making a drunken fool of himself, the bishop was across the river plotting his next twelve moves.
Jamie would put his money on the bishop every time. ’Twas fortunate, indeed, that Bishop Beaufort’s interests coincided with
the kingdom’s.
Jamie felt sorry for the queen, who sat on the other side of her son, looking pale and cowed. It annoyed him to see how Gloucester’s
gaze kept settling on Linnet. He reminded himself, yet again, that she was not his concern. If any woman could fend for herself,
it was Linnet. Besides, her brother was here. Francois was used to the onerous task of looking out for his sister.
“Why is Lady Eleanor looking at Linnet as if she’d like to put poison in her soup?” one of his companions whispered.
Behind her hand, the lady on his other side said, “She has a stare that would shrivel plums to prunes.”
Apparently, Gloucester’s mistress had noticed his wandering eye as well. Knowing what he did about Eleanor, Jamie found that
even more worrisome. He would have to warn Francois.
Gloucester rose from his chair, drawing the attention of everyone in the hall. “Sir Guy! Welcome!” His voice rang out as he
raised his cup in greeting. “Come join our fine feast!”
God help him, did he have to deal with that horse’s arse Pomeroy as well?
Although he and Pomeroy did their best to avoid each other, the circle of noblemen around the Lancaster royals
was small. Consequently, Jamie had seen Pomeroy several times both here and in France. But he had not been in the same room
with both Pomeroy and Linnet since—
Since that day in Paris when Pomeroy found the two of them in bed.
Jamie glanced at Linnet. She had gone deathly pale. Sir Guy strode to the center of the room and swept a low bow before the
high table. After greeting the royals, he turned and dipped his head to Linnet. Linnet’s mouth tightened; she did not return
the courtesy.
While everyone was watching Pomeroy take his seat at the high table, Linnet got quietly to her feet and left the hall. Edmund
Beaufort did not go with her.
With Linnet gone, Jamie thought he could relax and concentrate on his food. But the queen’s lady on his right—
Joan? Joanna?
—kept touching his arm and giggling in his ear. Then the other one began to rub her foot up his leg. He began to sweat.
A short time later, Francois appeared at his side. Francois did not say a word, but jerked his head toward the door.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Jamie said and got up at once to follow Francois out. As he passed the table where Martin sat with several
other squires, he caught Martin’s eye and nodded.
As soon as Jamie and Francois were away from the prying ears of the hall, Francois said, “Pomeroy just left the hall. I fear
he followed my sister.”
“Then we must find her first.” Jamie turned and waved to Martin to follow them.
“I told her not to do it, but she would not listen,” Francois said as they started down one of the long, dark
corridors. “ ’Twas like stepping on a venomous snake and then poking a stick at it.”
Apparently Linnet had done something to Pomeroy in addition to arranging for him to discover her in bed with Jamie. “How did
she poke a stick at him?”
“You did not know?” Francois turned cornflower-blue eyes on him that were the exact same shade as Linnet’s.
Damn, it was unnerving how much the two looked alike.
“Linnet married Pomeroy’s uncle. His great-uncle.” Jamie’s stomach went sour imagining an old man’s hands on her.
“She had Pomeroy sweating every moment for fear his uncle would get her with child.” With a sideways glance, Francois added,
“You see, Pomeroy was his heir.”
“I swear, your sister walks into trouble every chance she gets,” Jamie said, picking up his pace to a trot.
“The worst part is that she believes she can handle trouble alone,” Francois said.
“Go straight,” Jamie said as they came to an intersecting corridor. “I’ll take Martin and look down this one.”
As Jamie moved down the dim corridor, opening doors, he told himself he was lucky Linnet had refused him five years ago. If
she were his wife, he would be an old man by now.
With her heart pounding in her chest, Linnet walked as quickly as she could without running outright. She turned down a corridor,
though she had no idea where it led. She was not even sure which part of the palace she was in now. Her only plan was to put
as much distance as possible between her and Pomeroy.
As she came to another corner, she glanced over her shoulder. No one was behind her, praise God! She blew her breath out as
she rounded the corner.
And then she ran headlong into Pomeroy.
In an instant, his arm was locked around her waist and his hand was over her mouth. She kicked and tried to bite him as he
backed through the nearest door. When his hand slipped from her mouth, she drew in a deep breath to scream. Before she could
get it out, a knife was at her throat.
Panic pounded through her veins.
“Can I not have a private word with you without all this fuss?” Pomeroy said next to her ear.
He smelled of onions and dank sweat covered by a heavy, sweet scent that made her gag.
“Can I?” he said, and she felt the sting of the blade against her throat.
She nodded.
He dragged her across the room to the far wall, next to three tall windows. Rain and wind beat against the windows, like the
storm raging inside her. Gripping her chin, Pomeroy studied her in the dim light, as if taking in every curve and shadow.
“As exquisite as ever,” he said on a long breath. “God is a jester to give this much beauty to such a worthless creature.”
She willed herself to regain her calm. Somehow, she must outwit him and get away.
“I have a bone to pick with you, my dear,” he said. “You might,” she agreed in a tight voice. Then she let her anger get the
better of her and added, “But I am sorry for nothing.”
He gripped her chin tighter, and she flinched in spite of herself.
“I believe you are sorry—sorry you failed to steal my inheritance,” he said, his spittle hitting her face.
“If I had wanted to take it, I could have.”
His eye twitched. “What are you saying?”
When she did not answer, he spun her around, twisting her arm behind her back.
“Tell me.”
When she shook her head, he twisted her arm until sweat broke out on her forehead.
“I took herbs so I would not get pregnant,” she gasped. He turned her back around to face him. Her arm tingled and ached as
the blood flowed back into it.
“And all this time, I thought my uncle was too feeble to raise his banner,” he said in a mocking tone. “Still, you must have
had to work hard to get it up.”
“Don’t be disgusting.”
“You’ve no notion what I am capable of,” he said, his dark eyes snapping. “Take off your headdress. Now.”
“I will not. Ouch!” She held on to it as he tugged at it with one hand, ripping her hair out by the roots and making her scalp
burn. “Ouch! Ouch!”
When he wrenched it off her head, hairpins flew across the room and bounced on the floor. He gave her a hard shove in the
middle of her back, causing her to stumble and fall forward on her hands and knees. Then he grabbed her by the hair and roped
it around his hand. Tears burned the back of her eyes as he jerked her up to her knees.
The musty smell of his private parts in front of her face made her nauseous. She clawed at his hand—but stopped when the edge
of his blade touched her cheek.
“I know how to tame a demon harlot.”
The blade stung, and she felt a drop of blood slide down her cheek. She started to shake uncontrollably.
“Now you are going to do for me what you did for my uncle.” He nudged her with his knee. “Untie the laces of my chausses.”
J
amie opened the door, and his heart dropped to his feet. Pomeroy had Linnet on her knees before him, her hair twisted like
a rope around his fist. The edge of his blade lay against the perfect alabaster skin of her cheek. It was not difficult to
discern what the devil’s spawn was trying to make her do.
Jamie drew his sword but put his arm out in front of Martin. “Steady,” he said in a low voice. “If we startle him, he might
cut her.”
Pomeroy had not heard them come in over the pounding rain outside the window. Jamie stepped a few feet forward and cleared
his throat loudly.
Without moving his blade from Linnet’s cheek, Pomeroy turned. His eyes widened when he saw Jamie. After a pause, he said,
“You are always where you should not be, Rayburn.”
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “I assume the lady’s answer was nay.”
“She is no lady, as you well know,” Rayburn spat out. “But you will have to wait your turn.”
Jamie wanted to slice out Pomeroy’s tongue and feed it
to the dogs for that remark. Instead, he said with deliberate casualness, “You are a braver man than I.”
As Pomeroy watched, Jamie drew a coin from the pouch at his belt and flipped it into the air. “I’ll wager a gold florin she
will bite that tiny cock of yours right off.”
For a moment, it looked as if his taunt had worked and Pomeroy would come after him. Linnet’s shriek was like broken glass
against his nerves as Pomeroy jerked her to her feet by her hair. Rage throbbed at Jamie’s temples. If Pomeroy did not have
a blade against her throat, he would be a dead man now.
Jamie was done playing games. “You hurt her again, Pomeroy, and I swear you will not leave this room alive.”
Sir Guy must have sensed he meant it, for he began easing toward the door. One false move, and Jamie would have him.
“I don’t like being threatened, Rayburn,” he said. “No matter what tricks she does for you, she is not worth the trouble this
will bring you.”
Linnet’s eyes were wild and her jaw set, a dangerous combination. Jamie hoped to God she would not do something stupid.
“You two, stand over there.” Pomeroy pointed with his chin to the wall farthest from the door. “Stay back and move slowly.”
Jamie nudged Martin. As they moved toward the far wall, Pomeroy and Linnet skirted the room in the opposite direction until
they reached the door.
“She is a sorceress,” Pomeroy said, his eyes full of fire. “She has the power to call on demons and make men do as she wills.”
Jamie put his hands out, palms up, in a calming gesture. “Just let her go, Sir Guy.”
“I warn you, Rayburn,” Pomeroy said. “You shall not live if you interfere with my plans again.”
With a sudden move, Pomeroy shoved Linnet to the floor and fled out the door.
Jamie ran to Linnet, who lay in a heap on the floor before the door. Falling to his knees, he gathered her in his arms. She
collapsed against his chest, shaking and weeping.
“My squire will stay here with you,” he said into her hair. “I shall return as soon as I can.”
“Nay, do not leave me,” she said, clinging to him.
“I cannot let that swine get away.” The blood was pounding in his veins. “I must go after him now.”
“Do not leave me,” she wailed. “Please, Jamie, do not go.” Every muscle screamed to run after Pomeroy and tear him limb from
limb with his bare hands. But with Linnet weeping and clutching at his tunic, he could not leave her. He sighed and wrapped
his arms more tightly around her.
“I will do it,” Martin said with one hand on the door. “Halt!” Jamie was not about to let his new squire get killed going
after Pomeroy alone. “I will deal with him later. Go find her brother Francois. Tell him I have his sister and that she is
safe.”
As soon as the door closed behind Martin, Jamie reached up and slid the bar across. He wanted no more surprises.
Linnet’s body shook with sobs as he enfolded her in his arms again. “ ’Tis all right now. I am here.”
As he rubbed her back, the silken strands of her hair
fell over his hands. It smelled of citrus and spring, just as he remembered.
“Promise you will not go,” she said, her breath hot against his neck.
Linnet never admitted to needing anyone. Never begged him to stay, even when he left Paris. She was always so strong. He’d
never seen her like this.