“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.”
