Knights Divided. Suzanne Barclay
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“Of course I have. D-dozens of them.”
Liar. Sweet, prickly little liar. He was stricken by absurdly conflicting urges to ravish and protect her. He was glad the distance she’d put between them would keep her ignorant of the effect she was having on his wayward body, which had already decided what it would prefer to do.
They rode along the moon-washed road in a tense silence, their only contact the brush of his forearm against her waist as he held the reins. She was shivering, dammit. Hoping it was from the chilly night air, he pulled his cloak from the roll behind the saddle and draped it over her shoulder.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“You are cold. Since you refuse to share the heat of my body, I’m gallantly giving you my cloak.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Grudging words.
“What do you do in London?” he asked politely.
“Do?”
“You said you were not a member of the Wait. Are you your grandfather’s chatelaine? I recall his wife died years ago.”
“Oh. Aye, she did.”
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you more unhappy by bringing up her death. Were you very close?”
“Nay. I—I was estranged from my grandparents until recently…because of my father, Cedric, Markham’s older brother.”
“Did he inherit leadership of the Wait, then?”
“Nay.” Short, curt and angry.
Jamie didn’t ask why. He knew full well elder sons sometimes did not follow in their father’s footsteps. “What does he do?”
“He lies and breaks hearts.”
Damn. He could feel her pain and longed to ease it, but she’d take naught from him, certainly not pity or comfort.
“Could we stop?” she asked suddenly.
Jamie started and looked around. They’d reached the tumble of rocks and trees that marked the base of the next ridge. “I cannot leave you here, Emmeline. If you want to go back—”
“Nay, I need to get down for a moment.” Her voice dropped to a miserable whisper. “I—I should have visited the garderobe before we left, but did not, and now I have to—”
“Certainly.” Jamie eyed the thick woods and giant boulders. A fine spot for an ambush. “But not here. Up on the ridge—”
“I need to get down now.”
Jamie sighed, dismounted and lifted her to the ground. She darted away into the brush. “Call if you need me.”
Almost immediately he heard a grunt and a thud.
“Emma?” He drew his sword and started forward. “What is it?”
“I—I fell…I think I’ve broken my ankle.”
“Don’t try to get up.” Sheathing his blade, he stepped into the woods. ‘Twas dark as the inside of a pocket “Where are you?”
“Here,” she called from his right.
He turned, tripped over something and pitched forward. As he brought up his hands to break his fall, something slammed into the back of his head. Pain exploded and black dots danced before his eyes. He fought it, fought to stay conscious, but the darkness sucked him down, down….
Liord Giles, what a surprise to find you here.”
Giles turned away from trying to decide which of the guests he might use to spy on Jamie and started. “Oh, Lord Hugh, for a moment I thought ‘twas your brother.” “I do not see how. His patch is most distinctive.” Giles ground his teeth together. Cold, haughty bastard. Though they’d only met a few times at court, he disliked Hugh nearly as much as his twin. “Ah, you are the one with the lame leg, are you not?” he sneered, pleased to see Hugh flush. “I recall both afflictions were the result of the same incident.” Hugh’s gaze turned even frostier. “Why are you here?” So, he was as loath to discuss the event as Jamie. Interesting. Giles had heard they’d been set upon by brigands and nearly killed, but there was something else. Something in Hugh’s expression when he mentioned Jamie that made Giles’s heart leap. Anger. Jealousy. Did Hugh dislike his brother? If so, Hugh might prove useful. “I could say I was here to honor your mother,” Giles said, smiling now, “but the truth is, I came to spy on your brother.”
“What has he done now?” Hugh grumbled.
Fascinating. “The Earl of Oxford has appointed me—”
“I am well aware you are Robert de Vere’s hireling, so you needn’t wrap this up in fine linen. What has Jamie done now that will again stain our family name and wound our parents?”
“We think he and Lancaster’s son are involved in something.”
“Of course they are. Jamie fostered in Lancaster’s household. He and Henry of Bolingbroke are close as brothers.”
“What are they up to?”
“I am the last man Jamie would take into his confidence,” Hugh growled.
Better and better. “You two are not close, then?”
“Tis a fine jest that we are identical in looks, yet under the skin we are completely different. Except, of course, that we are both scarred…in our own way,” he added bitterly.
“Jamie and I never dealt well together. I did not enjoy being the brunt of his sharp tongue,” Giles said on a hunch.
Hugh snapped up the bait, his manner softening as he nodded. “I suffered the same fate till he went to Lancaster’s.”
“It cannot have been easy being Jamie’s brother.”
“You are a master of understatement. He was always first in everything, swordplay, wrestling, running, swimming and, of course, women.” A muscle worked in Hugh’s jaw, and his eyes burned with the fire of past grudges. “The victories came so easily to him, yet they meant naught. Even Harte Court, an estate any man would give his soul to possess…Jamie turned his back on it and went off adventuring.”
Giles smiled inwardly. He was the son of a simple knight, but he’d risen to the right hand of a powerful earl by exploiting others’ weaknesses. Each man had his price, and Hugh had just declared his. Harte Court. Now he saw how he might fan Hugh’s resentment into the fires of Jamie’s destruction. “You should have been the firstborn…not him.”
“Aye.” Hugh shifted his weight off his left leg and grimaced. “Jamie does not appreciate what he has.”
Giles looked around the crowded garden, then drew Hugh onto one of the shadowy paths. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he said, “Oxford agrees with you. Your brother is not only unworthy of the high station he holds, he is a danger to England. We think…” Giles cast about for a suitably nefarious crime. “We think he is plotting against the crown.”
Hugh’s lips thinned. “I knew he’d go too far one day. It’s the Lancasters, is it not?”
Oh, this was too good to be true. “Has he said something?”
Hugh shook his head. “I told you he’d not confide in me.
“Quite so. Then what makes you mention Lancaster?”
“Jamie’s thick with them, and the duke has been vocal in his criticism of the king. If Lancaster decided he’d make a better king than Richard, Jamie would be certain to support him.”
Giles