Tears streamed down her face, but he would not be moved. Not this time.
“You. Must. Choose,” he said, tapping his forefinger against her chest with each word. “Continue this battle or be my wife. For I swear to you, Linnet, you cannot do both.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Jamie found Sir Guy Pomeroy gambling in a small, well-appointed room in the Curfew Tower at the far corner of the palace grounds. A brazier glowed too hot on one side of the room. On the other, several noblemen sat at a table with their sleeves rolled up and cups before them. A young squire stood behind each man, ready to pour more wine or run an errand.
All the men looked up as Jamie entered, and several hailed him. One was Sir John, a big man from Northumberland who knew his father well and had fought with them in France.
“Do you wish to join the game, Jamie?” Sir John called out. “Sir Guy brought cards from France.”
The cards, which were not yet available in England, must have cost a small fortune. Each card was an elegant miniature painting with gold highlights.
“Just what we Englishmen need,” another man joked. “One more way to lose our coin.”
Jamie did not join in the laughter. “I believe I have all the vices I need.”
Something in his voice caused the room to go quiet.
Anger roiled through him as he met Pomeroy’s cold black eyes across the table. He was going to wipe that sneer off the pompous bastard’s face.
“Speaking of your vices, how is Linnet?” Pomeroy said. “I must say, her behavior in the hall today was bizarre even for her. But what can you expect of a woman raised by a merchant?”
Jamie drew his sword from its scabbard and slammed the flat of the blade in the middle of their game, scattering cards and sending coins rolling to the floor. Hands went to sword hilts all around the table, but Jamie kept his eyes on Pomeroy. Jamie had a well-earned reputation with a sword. With the point of his aimed at Pomeroy, it was unlikely anyone else would attempt to interfere.
Jamie put his other hand on the table and leaned across it. “I will give you the benefit of the doubt, Sir Guy, and assume you did not receive my challenge.”
Pomeroy had the gall to say, “What challenge?”
This was a private dispute; Jamie made it public now only to force Pomeroy’s hand. If Pomeroy had the sense to remain quiet, Jamie would have refrained from saying anything more in front of the other men.
“What challenge?” he said, his eyes burning into Pomeroy’s. “The challenge I delivered to you a full two months past at Westminster. The challenge I repeated in messages delivered to you every week since.”
At this, the gazes of the other men shifted from Jamie to Pomeroy. A man might seek a peaceful resolution to a challenge, but he could not simply ignore it—at least he could not and retain the respect of his peers.
“Come, Rayburn, I thought you were jesting,” Pomeroy said. “I could not credit that you would risk your life over a woman so common.”
Pomeroy was a hairbreadth from having Jamie’s blade in his chest. ’Twas a shame it would be dishonorable to cut the godforsaken man down while he sat in a chair.
“I have waited nearly two months for you to name the time and place,” Jamie said, biting out the words. “I will have satisfaction this day. Two miles upriver there is a wide bend in the Thames. Meet me in the field on the south side in two hours, or I shall come find you and strike you dead for a coward.”
Pomeroy raised one black eyebrow. “I warned you before, she is not worth what this will cost you.”
Jamie lifted his sword and brought the sharp edge down with a crack, cutting a half dozen of the valuable cards with one stroke. He lifted the sword and leaned forward until the point touched Pomeroy’s tunic over his miserable heart.
“All you need to know,” Jamie said, “is that saving that lady a moment’s concern is worth more to me than your life.”
Pomeroy kept his composure; Jamie had to give him that.
“Is defending her”—Pomeroy cleared his throat—“virtueworth your life?”
“Be in the field at the bend in the river, or I shall come find you,” Jamie said. “If I have to chase you down, I promise you, I shall show no mercy.”
Jamie straightened and sheathed his sword.
“This is a personal matter between Pomeroy and me.” He let his gaze travel to every man at the table. “If men hear of it beforehand and take sides, it will feed into the current political strife. That will serve no one.”
There were several grunts of agreement around the table.
