Two of the counters had rolled to her feet and she stooped to pick them up.
He stooped too. ‘Dear God, mistress,’ he muttered. ‘What are you doing to me?’
‘Do not blame me!’ she hissed. ‘Am I a seer to know you would arrive at this very moment?’
‘I do not know, mistress, you tell me.’
She flashed him a furious look at his hint that she had done this on purpose, but excitement licked through her all the same.
‘What is this?’ The Queen’s voice whipped the air. ‘Jeanette!’
She leaped to her feet, and Thomas shot to his, his head almost colliding with hers.
‘Madam, I dropped the gaming pieces,’ he said, and then pressed his lips together.
‘I was helping him to pick them up,’ Jeanette added. ‘I was summoning—’
‘In a state of undress with your laces untied?’ The Queen cut her off, her expression furious. ‘Where is your decorum? Go at once and make yourself decent!’
Jeanette fled into her bed space and tore the curtain across, tears of rage blurring her vision at the unfairness and humiliation. On the other side of the curtain the Queen was remonstrating with Thomas.
‘Pick up those pieces, put the boards on the table, and then you may retire,’ she said icily. ‘I thought better of you than this.’
Thomas replied in a tone Jeanette had never heard him use before, flat and tight. ‘Madam, I swear to you it is not as it seemed. Indeed, I am your loyal servant and obedient to your will. My apologies if I have offended you and your ladies.’
After a short but pertinent silence, the Queen spoke again, stiffly. ‘Yes, you have offended, but I accept your apology and I trust that it was indeed a mistake of timing and not something less honourable. It will be better if you leave.’
‘Madam,’ Thomas said.
Jeanette heard him walking away and then the closing of the door with deliberation. Moments later, the Queen parted the curtain and gave Jeanette a hard look. Behind her stood Katerine of Salisbury with pursed lips, but a thoughtful glint in her eyes.
‘I did not know Messire Holland was there, I swear it!’ Jeanette cried. ‘I was summoning Hawise to help with my fastenings and he walked into the room – and then he dropped the pieces.’
‘Well, that is unfortunate,’ Philippa said, ‘but you did not have to help him pick them up and expose yourself in that unseemly way. You should have retired on the instant. We cannot have any hint of scandal attaching to you while the Gascony match remains in play. I would have credited you with more sense and I am disappointed.’
‘Yes, madam, I am sorry,’ Jeanette said, contritely, but her heart had leaped as she realised she had a way out of the Gascon match.
‘Good, then let that be the end of the matter. Make yourself presentable and we shall say no more.’ Philippa withdrew, snatching the curtain across.
Exhaling, Jeanette closed her eyes, and dug her fingernails into her palms.
Hawise hurried in to help her lace her gown, and fasten her sleeves. ‘Oh, my lady!’ she said. ‘It truly was not your fault!’
Jeanette shook her head. ‘As the Queen says, it is over and done with.’
Except it wasn’t over at all, and even as Hawise rewound her braid and pinned it back into place, Jeanette was remembering how Thomas had been unable to take his eyes from her breasts.
In the stables, two days later, Thomas dismissed his groom and set about attending to his stallion Noir himself. The action of currying the horse’s coat, stripping out the winter hair, helped to steady him. He was avoiding people as much as possible, and when he had to interact was curt and taciturn, not lingering to talk but concerning himself with duty. He had stayed away from the mews, although John de la Salle informed him that Jeanette had visited several times to tend her falcon, and had asked for him. He had avoided the hall too, and when obliged to be there had held himself aloof. In the evenings he played dice with his men in the guardroom and tavern, but with only half a mind, and had lost more often than he had won. Angry with himself, he had taken it out on others and Otto had had to drag him out of a brawl last night before the daggers came out. Even a visit to the Gilders had not improved his mood. No matter how accomplished the woman, his need had not been assuaged beyond a numb release that had done nothing for his desire.
He kept thinking about Jeanette standing before him looking like a wanton woman in the midst of being tumbled by her lover, the scent of her body, her breasts, the nipples studding beneaththe tight ruby silk, the clear, aquamarine eyes and full, red lips. It was too much.
Was it deliberate? He had no idea. Instinctive perhaps. And part of it was his own spring fever, for she could not have known he would walk in as she was summoning her maid. Then again, she had faced him, brazening it out rather than turning away.
Grimly, he swept the comb along Noir’s rump, dragging out swatches of winter hair and dander. The stallion stamped a hoof and Thomas spoke to reassure him, and then, sensing a presence, turned, thoroughly prepared to snap at the groom; but it wasn’t a servant, it was Jeanette, and unchaperoned. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dark against the clear sea-blue.
‘Mistress, you should not be here,’ he said curtly. ‘Where is your maid?’
‘With your falconer,’ she replied. ‘I went to visit Frederick, and Master John said you were here. I left Hawise with him to give them an opportunity to talk for a little while. You must know they are courting.’
