Knight of Passion (3 page)

God help them all.

But in the meantime, Jamie needed to rescue the fool woman caught between the forces of the two feuding royals in the goddamned
middle of London Bridge.

The mass of people caught on the bridge began to panic as word spread of the men-at-arms marching toward them. As Jamie pushed
his way over the first part of the bridge, their shouts echoed off the buildings that connected overhead.

He was still twenty yards from the lady when he heard her scream. Hands were grabbing at her, attempting to pull her off the
horse. She fought back like a savage, striking at them with her whip.

Someone caught hold of her headdress. Despite the noise on the bridge, Jamie heard the gasps of the men around her as a cascade
of white-gold hair fell over her shoulders to her hips.

The air went out of him. There was only one woman in Christendom with hair like that. Linnet.

And she was in grave danger.

“Do not touch her!” he roared. He raised his sword and pulled the reins, making Thunder rear to clear his way.

He pushed forward through the seething mass. As he fought his way the last few yards, he heard Linnet’s voice over the clamor,
cursing the men in both French and English.

A burly man gripped her thigh with a filthy hand, and murder roiled through Jamie. Just as Linnet raised her whip to bring
it down on the man, she looked up and saw Jamie. Their gazes locked, and all the sounds around him faded away.

In that moment when she was diverted, the burly man caught her arm that held the whip. Another man yanked at her belt. Over
the thunder in his ears, Jamie heard her bloodcurdling scream as they pulled her off her horse.

“Hold on!” he shouted.

She was hanging off the side, clutching at her saddle with both hands. God help him, she would be trampled to death in another
moment. Her horse had remained remarkably steady until now. With its rider unsaddled, however, it was wild-eyed, tossing its
head and sidestepping into the
crowd. Jamie’s heart went to his throat as Linnet swung sideways and slammed against her horse’s side.

The men, whose hold was snapped by the horse’s movement, were grasping at Linnet’s skirts as the horse flung her from side
to side. She was hanging on by one hand when Jamie finally broke through to her. With one sweep of his sword, he slashed the
two men as he leaned down and caught Linnet around the waist with his other arm and lifted her up onto his horse.

Praise God, he had her! Now he just had to get her off this damned bridge before arrows started flying.

“My horse!” she said, twisting to look over his shoulder.

Without warning, she leaned over the side of his horse with both arms outstretched. Was the woman mad? He gripped her tighter
as she reached out to catch hold of her horse’s loose rein with her fingertips.

She sat up and gave him a triumphant grin as she held it up in her hand. Good God, she hadn’t changed a bit. She was happiest
in the midst of tumult and trouble. He wouldn’t be half surprised to discover it was she, and not Gloucester, who had caused
the riot.

“You gloat too soon,” he said through clenched teeth. “We could be killed yet.”

Her eyes flicked to the side, and she brought her whip down on an arm reaching for her horse’s bridle. He turned his horse
and shouted at the crowd, “Get off the bridge! Get off the bridge!”

The panicked mass of people surged against them like rolling swells against a ship at sea. Linnet ignored his repeated command
to “let go of the damned horse and hold on.” He had to hold her tight enough to leave bruises
on her ribs, while she slashed at people who tried to grab her horse’s reins.

She felt so slight against him. It seemed a miracle she had been able to fight off those men and stay on her horse for so
long. But anyone who touched her now would be a dead man. Jamie was a battle-hardened knight. Now that he had her, he had
no doubt he could protect her from the rabble.

Flying arrows, however, were another matter.

By a miracle, he managed to reach the end of the bridge a hairbreadth before the bishop’s men blocked the way. Then he rode
east along the river, away from the bridge and the crowd, until his heartbeat returned to normal.

They were a quarter mile down the river before he spoke. “What in God’s name were you doing on the bridge? An idiot could
see that was no place to be today.”

Linnet turned around to look at him. This time, with the danger past, his heart did a flip-flop in his chest. In addition
to everything else she was, did she have to be so beautiful? It was the curse of his life.

“ ’Tis nice to see you, too, Jamie Rayburn.” She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “After all this time, I expected a
better greeting.”

He fixed his gaze dead ahead and grunted. God in heaven, how could she be so cool after what had just happened on the bridge?

When she leaned lightly against him, his chest prickled with sensation. Lust and longing took him like a fever. He should
put her on her own horse now. He wanted to pretend she was too distressed to ride alone, but the thought was ridiculous. This
one small weakness he would allow himself. It meant nothing.

“I heard you were with Bedford in France,” she said.

“Hmmph.”

“When did you arrive in London?”

“Yesterday.”

After a long pause, she said, “Are you going to tell me what you are doing in England?”

“Nay.”

“Or ask why I am here?”

“Nay.”

He felt her sigh against his chest. Against his will, he remembered other sighs, other times…

He had to get rid of her. “I trust your servant will make his own way back. Where shall I deliver you?”

“The bishop’s palace,” she said. “I can find someone there to escort me to my lodgings.”

Good. It was best he not know where she was staying. Not that he would seek her out, but a wise man avoided temptation where
Linnet was concerned.

Taking a longer route to avoid the mob, he worked his way back to the bishop’s palace. Even over the stink of the city and
the river, he could smell the tangy scent of citrus in her hair. The memory of burying his face in it hit him like a punch
to the gut.

As soon as he saw Linnet safely inside the palace, he left her.

He went at once to the bishop, who accepted his offer to help mediate the dispute with Gloucester. For the rest of the day,
the crisis kept him far too busy to dwell on his encounter with Linnet. He and the other emissaries traveled back and forth
across the river eight times, attempting to forge a compromise. It was late in the night before the two feuding royals finally
agreed to terms.

Jamie fell into bed exhausted. With the country on the brink of civil war, he had managed to push all thought of Linnet aside
while he was awake. But near dawn, he was tormented by a dream of her. Not the annoying, sentimental sort of dream he often
had in the early days after he left Paris. Nay, this was a raw, sensual dream of her writhing above him, crying out his name.
He awoke gasping for air.

He needed a woman, that much was clear.

But first, duty called. The Duke of Bedford had sent him home from France with two tasks. Last night, he had fulfilled the
first by sending Bedford his report on the conflict between Gloucester and the bishop.

This morning, he must attend to his second assignment: keeping the young, widowed queen safe in the crisis. He owed this duty
not just to Bedford, but to his dead king. But perhaps he could combine duty with pleasure. If past experience was any judge,
one of the ladies at court would be happy to be his bedmate for a time.

He started the six-mile ride to Eltham Palace as soon as he broke his fast. Shortly after he arrived, he was taken to the
queen’s private parlor. As he entered, Queen Katherine, a fragile-looking woman of twenty-four, rose to greet him.

“Your Highness,” he said, dropping to one knee. When he looked up, he caught the flicker of sadness in her eyes and knew he
reminded her of that awful day at Vincennes, outside Paris. He was one of the knights who had carried the dying king into
the castle, where the queen waited for him.

“I am so very pleased you have come, Sir James,” she said, holding her hand out for his kiss. She looked past him and smiled.
“As I believe my friend is also, no?”

He turned to follow the queen’s gaze.

Linnet swept past him to stand beside Queen Katherine. With her stubborn jaw and her chin tilted up, she looked more regal
than the queen. And here he was on his knees, groveling at her feet once more.

At the queen’s nod, he got up.

“My friend says you would not tell her what brings you back to England,” the queen said with a coquettish smile. “But you
dare not refuse me.”

“I have come at the behest of the Duke of Bedford, who is concerned for your comfort and well-being.” He could not tell her
of Bedford’s other charge to him.

“He has always been kind to me,” the queen said in a soft voice. She did not need to add,
unlike Gloucester
.

“I have an errand of my own, as well,” Jamie added, surprising himself. “I have come home to marry.”

Linnet’s quick intake of breath was gratifying.

The queen clapped her hands. “How delightful!”

“I have so many tiresome tales of my victories to tell,” he said, “that I really must take a wife.”

The queen laughed, though she could not have understood the jest. Turning to Linnet, she asked, “What sort of lady should
we find for our handsome James?”

Linnet looked at him with her direct, ice-blue eyes and said, “I think he should please himself.”

Oblivious to the edge in Linnet’s voice, the queen clasped her hands together and beamed at him. “Tell us, Sir James, what
lady would please you?”

“A dull English lady,” Jamie said, turning to meet Linnet’s steady gaze. “The kind who makes a virtuous wife.”

L
innet dug her nails into her palms to fight back the sting in her eyes and kept her expression passive.

A virtuous wife, indeed.

How could Jamie be so cruel as to deliberately insult her? And to what purpose? Was it not enough that he deserted her five
years ago without a backward glance? After swearing his undying devotion, he had left without giving her a single chance to
explain.

She’d had her reasons for what she did. Good reasons. Who was he to judge her? Jamie grew up in the bosom of a large and politically
powerful family, with devoted parents who looked out for him. She had been a young girl with few choices.

To take control of her fate, bold action was required. She did what she had to do. Jamie did not even try to understand.

She had succeeded in avoiding marriage to that lecherous, devil-eyed Guy Pomeroy. And then, before Alain could marry her off
to someone else of his choosing, she acted quickly to arrange a marriage for herself.

Just like that, she got herself out from under Alain’s
thumb. ’Twas most satisfying. Alain had been appalled and outraged in equal measure, but there was nothing he could do. The
man she chose was too powerful. Her twin brother, Francois, had argued bitterly with her over the marriage, telling her she
was cutting off her nose to spite her face.

But it had been worth it. All her plans were falling into place. Except for this awful ache that pressed on her heart whenever
she thought of Jamie Rayburn, there was nothing she would change.

She stared at him as he spoke to the queen, trying to find the tender young man she once knew. This Sir James had the same
long dark hair, the same striking midnight-blue eyes. Each feature was familiar; yet, he was not the same.

He was all hard angles now. It was not just that his face was leaner, his body more muscular. Jamie always had the confidence
and fearlessness he showed on the bridge yesterday. But before, there had also been a sweetness to him that he sometimes showed
her. There was no trace of that in the man before her.

He was telling the queen about yesterday’s events in the City. Apparently, he was unaware of Queen Katherine’s astonishing
lack of interest in politics.

The queen gave him a pleasant smile and picked up her skirts. “ ’Tis time for us to join the others for dinner.”

“Your Grace, we must speak now,” Jamie said. “Gloucester will be here in two hours.”

The queen stood stock-still, staring at him with wide eyes. “Gloucester is coming? Here to Eltham?”

“Under the compromise with the bishop, your son is to travel to Westminster with Gloucester. However, they
will be escorted by men trusted by both Gloucester and the bishop.”

“You speak as if the king were a grown man and not a child of three,” the queen said in a pinched voice. “But if that is what
they have decided to do, there is nothing I can do about it.”

Jamie met the queen’s gaze squarely; they all knew she was powerless in this fight.

“Shall I be permitted to accompany my son?” Since the Council had ordered a separate household be set up for the king, the
queen could no longer presume she would travel with her son.

“You are invited to come to Westminster,” Jamie said. “But it is suggested that when the king returns to Eltham a few days
hence, you remove yourself to Windsor Palace.

“You will be safe there from the turmoil here in London,” Jamie added in a softer voice. “The king will join you in just a
few weeks, for the Council has decided Christmas Court will be held at Windsor this year.”

The queen picked up her skirts again and brushed past Jamie on her way to the door.

Usually it was Linnet who attempted to alert the queen to the risks and realities around her. Her friend, however, preferred
not to hear about events she felt helpless to influence. If she could not avoid unpleasant news altogether, she pushed it
aside as quickly as she could.

Linnet drew in a deep breath and attempted to walk past Jamie as the queen had done, but he caught her arm.

“What are you doing here, Linnet?”

She jerked her arm from his grip. “I thought you did not wish to know.”