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  She came down to him in a swirl of white underdress and fluttering petticoats. “Have a care, Frenchman. Mayhap I lured you to this enchanted place to cast a spell upon you.”

  “Too late, my beauty. You have already done that.” He set her feet to the ground and bent his head to steal a kiss. When she offered up her mouth, it led to another and then to a dozen. “Jory, I’ll never have enough of you.”

  He released her and moved away so that he would not lose control of his raging desire. He opened his saddlebags, took out a mantle, and unrolled it on the ground. “If my lady fair will sit, I will feed her ambrosia and tempt her with flagons.” He unwrapped a linen napkin that held crusty bread and medallions of cheese and set them down beside a leather wineskin. “I have never wooed anyone before. I’m quite green at the game.”

  It seemed a most unlikely thing for a twice-wed man in his thirties to claim, yet Jory believed him. She patted the place beside her. “I think we should explore this wooing together.” Guy, I want more than wooing. I want you to court me. I think I’m falling in love…I want you to beg me to become your wife!

  He stretched his length in the grass and picked up the wineskin. “Do you know how to handle one of these?”

  “I haven’t the faintest notion…Will you give me lessons?”

  “It would give me infinite pleasure to teach you anything and everything you wish to learn, my beauty.”

  She licked her lips. “I have a thirst for knowledge.” I have an insatiable thirst for you, Guy de Beauchamp.

  “Better take off your beautiful surcoat. Wine stains are difficult to wash away.”

  “An ingenious ploy to undress me. If I remove a garment, it is only fair play that you do too.” Jory took off her embroidered surcoat, folded it neatly, and set it aside. She watched Warwick shrug from his doublet to reveal a cambric shirt. She could see his black mat of chest hair through the fine material.

  He picked up the wineskin. “Come to me.”

  Without hesitation she accepted his tempting invitation.

  He took her hand and pulled her down so that she sat cradled between his legs. His arms reached around her, and he held the wineskin on a level with her mouth. “When I squeeze, it will spurt up like a fountain. You must open your lips and catch it. Are you ready?”

  She nodded, opened her mouth like a trusting baby bird, and miraculously managed to capture the arc of bloodred wine. She swallowed it quickly and opened her lips again. After the third mouthful she began to laugh at the absurd game they were playing.

  Warwick opened his own mouth and caught a long stream of the potent liquid and managed to swallow it before he too burst out laughing. He fell back into the grass and took her with him. They rolled together, laughing and sharing wine-drenched kisses until they were aflame with desire.

  Jory could feel the heat of his body through the cloth of her finespun underdress. She gazed down into his black eyes, which smoldered with passion, and knew she was madly in love with him.

  Warwick realized the game they played was far too dangerous. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. Yet he knew the price he’d have to pay was high and irrevocable. The price she would have to pay could be even higher. The thought sobered him.

  “I believe a little decorum is in order, Lady Marjory. If someone came upon us, your honor would be utterly compromised.”

  “Blackened beyond repair.” She sat up, her eyes glittering with mirth. “A fate worse than death.” She picked up a piece of cheese, took a lusty bite, and then held it to his lips. “Will Warwick take the bait?” she teased playfully.

  He saw the snare. He had been fully aware of the danger since the moment he had learned her name. It was a trap of his own making and, alas, the bait was irresistible.

  He took the cheese and bit her fingers in the process. When she pushed him back into the grass with mock ferocity, he growled fiercely and rolled her beneath him, caging her between his powerful thighs. He gazed down at her with intense black eyes, waging a losing battle with himself. Finally, against his better judgment, he spoke. “Jory, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I have this overpowering urge to court you openly. With my disastrous marital history, I must be mad to even think of wooing another noble, highborn lady, but it seems that I cannot help myself. Even a sinner longs for one last chance at happiness.” He paused, hoping sanity would return. When it did not, he threw caution to the four winds. “If I made an offer for you, would you be willing to take the risk and marry me?”

  When she gasped with delight, he quickly placed his hand over her mouth. “Don’t answer me now. You must think about this long and hard. Your life would be irrevocably altered forever. I am sixteen years older than you and I have a son. Jory, you must be absolutely sure. I will give you all the time you need to make your decision, and whether it be yes or no, I will honor your resolve. Be very cautious before you plunge in over your head. Like crossing the Rubicon, there can be no turning back. The wrong decision could make you hate me with a vengeance someday.”

  Though Jory knew deep in her heart what her answer would be, she did not say it aloud. Instead, she reached up to tenderly touch his face and smiled her secret smile. Jory de Beauchamp, Countess of Warwick!

  Chapter 5

  “Jory de Bohun, Countess of Hereford. It has a nice ring to it, Lynx, and de Bohun’s heir will also inherit the post of Constable of England along with his father’s earldom. What do you think?”

  “I think it an extremely suitable match. As well as Hereford, de Bohun can claim the Earldom of Essex through his mother. I admire Hereford—he is a steadfast man who will stand as a strong father figure to my sister. The contrast between John de Bohun and my irascible father-in-law, Roger Bigod, was quite apparent in the hunt today. Though Sylvia has been wed to me for two years, she still fears her father’s authoritarian ways. Jory and young Humphrey de Bohun should deal well together since they are so close in age. Humphrey has just turned nineteen, I understand.”

  “Aye, your sister does not want to suffer Princess Joanna’s fate. She made me promise I would not wed her to an older man.”

  “At Goodrich Castle in Hereford, Jory would be the undisputed chatelaine, since the earl’s wife has been dead these many years and his younger son, Henry, is unwed. My sister would thrive in a household of men and soon become queen of the castle.”

  “In the hall tonight, we must contrive to seat Jory with the de Bohuns and observe how well they mesh.”

  “We can try to pin her down, but it won’t be an easy task. The minx is as elusive as quicksilver!”

  “Jory, I was astonished to see you in the company of Warwick today. Surely you know of his foul reputation?” Joanna stood before the mirror as her friend laced up her purple velvet gown.

  “I know nothing of his reputation”—the corners of Jory’s mouth went up—“though I am sure you are about to enlighten me.”

  Joanna’s eyes glittered. “What are friends for?” She bent close and whispered, “Warwick’s first wife, Isabel, was Gilbert de Clare’s youngest sister. Rumor has it that she was poisoned.”

  Jory caught her breath, and then her eyes met Joanna’s. She asked evenly, “If Warwick caused his wife’s death, why are he and your husband-to-be such fast friends?”

  “Men! Who can explain the bonds that are forged between the rapacious devils? Land, castles, or wealth have always garnered more male loyalty than mere marriage. Why don’t you question Gloucester yourself? I believe Gilbert has a soft spot for you.”

  Jory smiled and changed the subject. If she questioned de Clare, he would immediately inform his friend Warwick. “Will you wear the purple? There is little need to emphasize your royalty again tonight.”

  “There is every need…tonight and every night. De Clare is so blood proud, I have no intention of allowing my bridegroom to forget I am a Plantagenet princess, especially since tomorrow he will lower my rank to Countess of Gloucester.”

  I am willing to wager tha
t Guy de Beauchamp is tenfold more blood proud than Gilbert de Clare.

  “Come, Jory. I intend to eat and drink myself into oblivion since tonight is my last night of freedom and tomorrow I may die!”

  Jory winked. “You will survive, Joanna. I am certain of it.”

  The princess and her ladies arrived late to the hall as usual, and apart from the bride’s place of honor beside Gilbert de Clare, there were few empty seats on the eve of the royal wedding.

  Jory felt a compelling urge to search out Guy de Beauchamp, but as her avid gaze traveled about the hall, her brother, Lynx, caught her eye and beckoned her to an empty seat between himself and John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Constable of England.

  The Earl of Hereford rose to his feet. “Lady Marjory, it would be such an unexpected pleasure if you would dine with us.”

  Jory gave him a radiant smile and took the seat. “My lord earl, the pleasure is mine. Did you enjoy the hunt today?”

  “My sons and I enjoyed it so much, we plan to acquire some hunting birds and establish a mews when we return to Hereford. Allow me to present my son Humphrey and my younger son, Henry.”

  Jory smiled at Humphrey, who sat across from his father, and nodded to Henry on his far side. She was quite used to young men’s stares as they appraised her. “You have traveled a long way to attend Princess Joanna’s wedding.”

  When Humphrey flushed at the mention of Joanna’s name, Jory was amused. Many young lords were infatuated with the royal princess.

  “We didn’t journey from Hereford, Lady Marjory. We were at our castle of Midhurst in Sussex,” the earl explained.

  “The de Bohun land is on the other side of the River Rother, just south of my de Warenne land in Surrey,” her uncle John remarked. “We are neighbors for part of the year.”

  Hereford signaled a server to pour Jory some wine. Then he raised his own goblet and proposed a toast. “Lady Marjory, you are the fairest lady at Windsor tonight. If only I were twenty years younger, I warrant I would seek you for my wife.”

  “How gallant you are, my lord earl. And if I were a mere five years older, I would accept your proposal,” Jory said sweetly.

  Flattered beyond belief, John de Bohun lost his heart and immediately resolved to contract Marjory de Warenne for his son and heir, Humphrey, at any cost.

  It wasn’t until Jory was eating her dessert that she felt eyes upon her and knew someone was watching her. She glanced across the hall and saw immediately that it was Warwick. His intense gaze licked over her like a candle flame, thrilling her to the core. She touched her fingers to her lips and then her heart—two gestures she knew he would understand. When she saw him rise from the table and leave the hall, she was in a fever to follow him. She forced herself to remember her manners and sat politely until all the diners were finished. “My lords, I beg you to excuse me. I must attend Princess Joanna. There are many things that I must see to before the wedding tomorrow.”

  When she arose from the table, all the men stood too. She bade them good night and as Lynx escorted her partway to the dais, she could not suppress her inner excitement. She went up on her toes and impulsively kissed her brother’s cheek.

  “You made a most favorable impression on the constable tonight, Minx. I was very proud of you.”

  Jory’s thoughts were so completely focused on Warwick, she did not heed her brother’s words. Bursting with happiness she squeezed his arm and confided, “Don’t be surprised if you receive an offer for me very soon, Lynx.”

  He grinned down at her. “You conceited little devil…you are convinced you have charmed de Bohun into making an offer, are you?”

  “Good heavens no. Guy de Beauchamp is the one I have charmed.” As Jory slipped away from Lynx, she did not see the stunned look on her brother’s face.

  She glanced up at the dais and saw that Joanna was laughing wildly with her brother, Prince Edward. It was quite obvious that the king’s son was drunk, and by the look of her, his sister was well on her way to intoxication. The princess didn’t seem quite ready to retire in spite of the full day she would have to face on the morrow, so Jory impulsively decided to leave the hall to seek a few stolen minutes with Warwick.

  She hurried outside, and her heart sank when she found no trace of Guy de Beauchamp. I waited too long to seek him. I doubt patience is a Warwick virtue. Her eyes probed the torch-lit area, but she saw only guards and a few castle servants. I wonder if he went to the garden? Jory ran lightly through Windsor’s Upper Ward, her heart beating a tattoo of hope and wild anticipation.

  When she did not see him inside the garden, disappointment engulfed her. Then he stepped from the shadows of the willow tree. “Guy! Guy!” she cried with delight as she picked up her skirts and ran into his arms.

  He held her against him possessively for a full minute before he dipped his head to speak to her. “It’s too soon to give me your answer, Jory. You promised me you’d think long and hard about it.”

  “You came to the garden hoping I’d come to you. How can you deny it?” she whispered joyfully.

  “I’ve learned how impulsive you are, chéri. If you had been foolish enough to approach me in the hall, it would have aroused great speculation, so I went outside. Then I realized the garden was the only place that would give us privacy from prying eyes.”

  “I want you to court me openly, Guy.”

  “I cannot do that until I get permission from your guardian, John de Warenne, and your brother, Lynx.”

  Her fingers sought the badge on his velvet doublet. “Not without right…you live according to your Warwick motto.”

  “I try. I do not always succeed, sweetheart.”

  “I’ve thought about it quite long enough. If I thought about it for a lifetime, my answer would be the same. With all my heart, I want to be your wife, Guy de Beauchamp.” She tossed her hair about her shoulders. “I’ve quite made up my mind! Will you offer for me?” Will you offer for me soon? she begged silently.

  He placed his fingers beneath her chin, raised her face, and smiled down at her. “So impetuous…so impatient. I will offer for you Jory, my love.” He sealed his pledge with a tender kiss.

  “I’ve imbibed more than my fair share of wine tonight. Can’t this wait, Lynx?” John de Warenne held on to his chamber door to steady his balance.

  “No, it cannot wait. I have learned something most disquieting. We are about to receive an offer for Jory that is abhorrent.” He closed the door firmly and led John to a chair before the fire.

  The earl’s brow furrowed. “You are mistaken. There is nothing abhorrent about the offer we have received from de Bohun. I assure you the constable is an honorable man, and I am certain I can bring him to a more generous settlement on Jory’s behalf.”

  “I’m not concerned about de Bohun’s offer,” Lynx said shortly.

  “Well surely you’re not worried about Jory’s reaction. You saw how charming she was tonight. I am almost certain she will be amenable to the match.”

  Lynx de Warenne gathered his patience. “Where Jory is concerned, I have learned never to be certain. The little minx told me tonight we could expect an offer from Guy de Beauchamp.”

  “Warwick!” John de Warenne sobered immediately.

  “It is unthinkable—absolutely out of the question that Jory become the wife of Warwick,” Lynx declared.

  “I agree wholeheartedly. His reputation with women stinks to high heaven!”

  Lynx ran his hand through his tawny mane. “If, or rather when, he comes with his offer, we must be ready. We will have to devise a plausible excuse that will not give offense to the noble earl.”

  “Absolutely. Under no circumstances must we give offense to such a staunch ally. Christ Almighty, we don’t want Warwick for an enemy!”

  “Personally, I have always liked de Beauchamp. I’ve never given a tinker’s damn about the dark rumors concerning the death of his wives. What happens in a man’s marriage is his own private affair. That is until he proposes to marry
my sister. Then it suddenly becomes very much my business.”

  “It is our duty to protect Jory from a marriage that would prove disastrous to her future happiness. The age difference alone would be insurmountable. Guy de Beauchamp must be at least fifteen years her senior.”

  “That is not the greatest impediment. Warwick already has a son and heir. Any child he had by Marjory would receive neither his lands, castles, nor his noble title of Earl of Warwick.”

  “Marjory would never entertain such a match!”

  “We must not give her any choice in the matter,” Lynx said flatly.

  “You think the idea of becoming a countess might tempt her?”

  “God, or perhaps the devil alone, knows the working of a female’s mind, and my sister is more of an enigma than most women. There are many temptations out there for an eighteen-year-old, and it’s our job to save her from those that could destroy her.”

  “If—when—he comes, we must treat him with utter respect. We must listen to him and let him know that we are fully aware of the great honor he is bestowing upon the de Warennes.”

  “And high honor it would be if the happiness of my young sister were not at stake. A connection with the greatly esteemed de Beauchamp bloodline would be advantageous for any noble family.”

  “Warwick Castle is a magnificent fortalice and Flamstead, which came to him through his marriage to Alyce de Toeni, has the richest pastures in Hertfordshire. Most families would grovel for a chance to tie their fortunes with that of de Beauchamp.”

  “He may approach you first, since you are Jory’s guardian.”

  “If he does, I will make it clear that I must consult you also in the matter as gravely important as your sister’s marriage.”

  “Yes, that will give us a little time. Perhaps we should let him know from the onset that we have another offer for her.”

  “But when he learns we have chosen Hereford over Warwick, it could cause bad blood between the earls.”