She’d had a weakness for Jamie Rayburn since she was a girl of fifteen, and it was not likely to change. There was something solid and reassuring about Jamie that drew her even more than his looks. He never boasted, but he walked with a confidence that said he was not afraid of any fight—and that he would choose the side of right, no matter the odds.
So when she saw him filling her doorway, the anger burning in her chest drained out of her into a puddle at her feet. She should have taken offense at the presumption of the bag slung over his shoulder. Instead, she appreciated the unambiguous message: Jamie had come to her house intending to stay.
Her skin had prickled as Jamie’s gaze burned over her, head to toe and back up again. Then, without a word, he had kicked the door shut behind him, grabbed her wrist, and headed for the stairs. She made not a word of protest. With an unerring sense of direction, Jamie passed the other rooms and led her straight to her bedchamber.
Her heart beat hard in her chest as he crushed her in his arms and gave her a deep kiss against the back of her bedchamber door. Soon, they fell to the floor. That first time, they never made it to the bed.
Three days later, she still had burns on her knees. But she was not complaining.
Francois had disappeared, and her two servants had the sense to stay well out of the way, so they had the house to themselves. They made love until they were too weak to move, then lay in bed talking and laughing. Each afternoon, they managed to go out for two or three hours to take care of their separate errands in London.
On the first day, she beat on Alderman Arnold’s door until a servant informed her that the family had left the City for their estate in Kent. She was told the same at the Guild Hall, so she let the matter rest.
For all her effort, she seemed no closer to discovering who was behind the scheme that destroyed her grandfather’s business. In time, she would find the alderman and force him to answer her questions. In time, she would discover the man behind it all. But just this once, she allowed herself to set aside the burden she carried. She let herself have this one gift, while it was offered.
Today was their last day in London, so she wished Jamie would hurry back from his visit to the bishop. She had returned an hour ago from meeting with Master Woodley.
At the sound of the door, she turned, a well of happiness surging inside her chest. But it was Francois, not Jamie, who walked into the solar.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“Here and there,” Francois said with a shrug. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at her. “But what has happened here? You seem… different.”
It could be trying at times to have a twin.
“Different?” she asked, to avoid answering his question. “How do you mean?”
“Happy. Content. You are never truly either, so something remarkable must have occurred. Did you murder one of the men you are after or…” He looked around the room sharply, then back at her. “ ’Tis a man. You’ve got a man here.”
Linnet folded her arms across her chest.
“Who is it?” His stern expression melted into a broad grin. “ ’Tis Jamie Rayburn, isn’t it?”
She shifted her gaze to the ceiling.
“Any other man, and I would feel compelled to beat him or some such thing. But Jamie is a good man.” Francois grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table, sat down beside her, and put his feet up. “You should have married him the first time around.”
“I assure you,” she said in a tight voice, “marriage is not on Jamie’s mind this time.”
“And this annoys you.” Francois cocked his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “How very interesting.”
He took a large bite of the apple with his straight white teeth. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he crunched it.
“I am not annoyed by it,” she said. “I have no time to have a lovesick fool dogging my every footstep.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Francois said between bites.
“I’ll slap that irritating little smile off your face if you do not stop it,” she snapped.
As soon as she said it, she knew she sounded exactly as she had at ten. When she met Francois’s eyes, they both burst into laughter. She could never stay angry with him for long.
After their laughter had died, Francois said in a quiet voice, “I suspect that if you want something more from Jamie Rayburn, all you need do is tell him.”
“Ha, that is all you know about it,” she said, flicking her hand in the air. “Jamie is quite content with things as they are. As am I. You know there are things I must do.”
No husband—particularly Jamie Rayburn—would allow her the freedom she needed to pursue her plans.
“For God’s sake, Linnet, leave it be,” Francois said, losing his easy manner.
