The cloth was fine; it came from her own stores. “Lord Stafford.” She gave him a broad smile, thinking what a difficult father-in-law he would make. Jamie almost deserved him.
“Good day, Lady Agnes.” The lack of interest in the young lady’s dark gaze surprised—and relieved—Linnet. The lady may be tedious, but she was an innocent in this drama.
Linnet completed the circle and turned at last to Jamie. He was working the muscles of his jaw, and his face had angry red blotches.
“Sir James. How very pleasant to see you.” She gave him a placid smile she had learned from the queen. “Are you well? You look a trifle… flushed.”
“I have never been better,” Jamie bit out.
“The musicians are a delight, are they not?” she said to the group. “I can tell you, there are none to match them in Paris.”
This remark led to a lively conversation, as she knew it would. The English loved nothing better than to hear that they outmatched the French in some cultural accomplishment.
While the others were thus engaged, she said to Jamie in a low voice, “We must speak.”
He fixed his gaze above the head of the man opposite him. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“You can leave with me now, or we can talk here in front of everyone,” she said. “You know how little I care for what people think.”
She could almost hear him grind his teeth.
“I will come,” he said, “because it would be unkind to allow you to embarrass Lady Agnes.”
“If you ask me, she will be relieved to have you gone.” She raised her voice then to speak to the others. “If you will forgive us, the queen bade me bring Sir James to her. She has something she wishes to ask him.”
Jamie narrowed his eyes at her, as if wanting to confirm that she was lying. She gave him her placid smile again to let him know she was, and that he could do nothing about it. Would he call her or the queen a liar in public? Nay, he would not.
Linnet waved her fingers at the others and took Jamie’s arm. Feeling the heat and tension of the muscles beneath her fingers made it difficult to maintain her calm facade. They did not speak again until they were outside in the cool of the upper courtyard.
“Shall we take a walk by the river, or would you prefer we talk in your bedchamber?” she asked.
“The river.”
He pried her hand from his arm—a telling gesture for a man in whom courtesy was ingrained—and stomped ahead of her toward the gate.
“You do not have to be rude,” she snapped.
The sun was out, but the ground was still muddy from the last rain. She soon wished she wore boots rather than the delicate slippers that matched her gown. His long strides made it impossible for her to keep up.
“Damn it, Jamie! Slow down.”
She was getting more and more vexed with him as she trudged behind him, despite her need to convince him that he still loved her and should marry her.
“Do you believe Agnes would not complain if you treated her like a serf, expecting her to follow behind the great warrior?”
He turned on his heel. “You dare to criticize me for a lack ofcourtesy? After what you have done?”
“I made a misjudgment, that is all,” she said. “I admit I should not have gone to meet Gloucester in his apartments.”
“Misjudgment! Misjudgment!” he shouted, raising his arms.
“Nothing happened with Gloucester,” she said. “How can you think I would ever let him touch me?”
“Not let him touch you? God’s blood, Linnet, you were sitting on his goddamned lap!”
“All right,” she said, fighting for control. “I already admitted it was a mistake to go to his bedchamber, but I did nothing wrong. He grabbed me before I knew it. Men do that to women sometimes.”
“Nay, it does not happen to other women,” he bit out.
