The Intended (3 page)

And during those years they had written each
other many letters. She was certain that their relationship had
changed, matured—that he was growing fonder of her with each
missive. It hadn’t been her imagination, that she knew. His words
had been caring; he’d written her long accounts of his life. He
had
led her to believe that he’d cared. He had.

But then, it all had happened so quickly. She
had been ready to leave for Scotland when the letters arrived. The
one from her parents telling her that Malcolm had decided to wed.
And the one from Malcolm telling her of the continual feuding on
his land, of his decision to wed, of his desire to bring about
stability in his lands by producing an heir.

Even now, Jaime burned with the wish that the
ground would open and swallow her whole for the mistake she had
made.

The news had been enough to set her off
blindly. She had asked no questions but had set out to plan her own
wedding. Her wedding!

Feeling the tears starting to sting her eyes,
Jaime looked about the room, unable to endure any more thoughts of
that dreadful day.

But her parents had been wonderful throughout
the ordeal. After the spectacle she’d made of herself, Elizabeth
and Ambrose had excused themselves, taking Jaime back to Stirling
as quickly as they could. And there she had remained in
seclusion—until word from her ailing grandfather had come to her.
She knew she needed to get away. As long as she stayed in Scotland,
she would be forced to see him, forced to face his bride. She
simply could not live there any longer, miserable, watching another
bask in the glow of happiness that she’d always thought was
intended for her. She needed to leave Scotland and never come
back.

And she had left Scotland, arriving in time
to see her grandfather die, in time to see Hever Castle reclaimed
by the king’s officers. And when her great uncle, the duke of
Norfolk had sent for her, she had gone with a grateful heart. Now
she had no need for...

Stop, stop, stop, she commanded silently.
Shaking off the darkness of her thoughts, Jaime forced herself to
turn her full attention back to the people who now filled her life.
From where she stood she could see Mary talking excitedly with Lady
Frances, the beautiful wife of the absent earl of Surrey. The young
woman caught Jaime’s look and smiled across the room. Odd, Jaime
thought, still no sign of Edward.

“If I were to tell you that I’ve brought you
ropes of pearls longer than the garlands that deck these walls,
would you be impressed?”

Hiding her smile, Jaime shook her head. He
was standing closely behind her. She could feel his tunic brush
against the back of her dress.

“If I were to tell you that I’ve brought you
sapphires as large and as black as your eyes, would you be
impressed then?”

Edward’s soft breath now tickled her ear. For
an instant she felt his lips brush against her neck. She took a
quick step forward and turned to face him. He stood before
her—fresh and bold and smiling.

“You are a bold, naughty creature, Edward
Howard,” she scolded, bringing a laugh to his lips.

“I am a lonely, forsaken, and rejected
suitor, Jaime Macpherson.” He reached out and took hold of both of
her hands. His eyes roamed meaningfully over the low neckline of
her dress, over the curves of her high round breasts, and she
blushed under his shameless inspection. “But you are a fine sight
for a returning warrior.”

“I would assume, Lord Edward,” she said,
recovering her wit, “that after spending so many days at sea, even
the sight of a mangy cur would be a pleasurable sight.”

“Ah...your modesty.” He let go of her hands
and slid his hands slowly up the bare skin of her arms beneath the
long loose sleeves. She drew back and, smiling, he grasped her
hands again. “So many nights I dreamed of this—of coming back and
seeing your shining face—of feeling the silkiness of your skin
beneath my lips...”

“Clearly I erred just now, Lord Edward,” she
broke in, trying unsuccessfully to pull her hands from his grasp.
“I believe
you
are the cur!”

“Aye,” he responded, bringing her hands to
his lips. “But I am no common cur. I am a noble dog, a hound
trained for the hunt, for battle.” Edward looked into her eyes.
“Won’t you even pet this loyal and stouthearted beast who pants
here at your heel?”

“You are a foolish puppy, Edward.”

“So true, my sweet.” His voice dropped to a
whisper. “But one whose blood smokes in his veins for the
chase...for you.”

Jaime tore her gaze away from him and looked
about the hall in hope of some relief. Crowds of people were still
pouring in, but everyone seemed occupied with other matters. To her
dismay, the tent served to shield them, and Edward seized the
advantage of her looking away to grab her by the waist and pull her
inside the canvas of the tent. Her eyes snapped back to him, her
hands trying to keep his powerful body from crushing her to
him.

“Edward, don’t,” she whispered. “There are so
many here.”

“Then come with me to my chamber.”

She blushed crimson. “We’ve never
before—”

“It’s time, Jaime,” he said hoarsely. One
hand moved higher, his fingers following the curve of her waist.
She felt his hand lift the weight of her breast, the friction from
his thumb raising the nipple through the silk of her dress. “I am
tired of waiting—tired of these virginal games. I want you for my
own, and you know it. I’ve courted you enough, and I am not one to
wait until our marriage night to take what is mine.”

“Edward,” she snapped, digging her fingers
angrily into his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. “This is
no way to talk to me. I am your cousin, not some harbor wench for
you to drag off to your bed whenever you come to port.”

The young man stared into her bloodless face.
A regal coldness had hardened her features. He released her, and
she took a step back, putting some distance between them and taking
hold of the canvas wall.

“What has happened to you?” she asked
shortly. “You have never behaved this way before!” The faint blush
on his tanned and chiseled face did not go unnoticed by her.

“I am a man, Jaime. A knight. A warrior.” He
drew himself up to his full height. “I am no monk.”

“And this is how a knight of your king treats
a woman?”

She watched as a smile broke across his lips.
He reached for her, but this time she was prepared and quickly
slapped away his darting hand. He laughed in response.

“You
are
an innocent, Jaime
Macpherson. But trust me—that is soon to change.” He took a step
toward her, and as she turned to escape, he caught her wrist and
drew her fiercely to him. His voice was ragged whisper. “I always
get what I want. During this trip I took the time to think—and I’ve
decided that I’ve left things in your hands too long.”

“Don’t, Edward,” she whispered as he used one
arm to mold her body to his. She didn’t care for the glazed look
that was darkening his gray eyes.

“Aye, I’ve decided that it’s time to teach
you a few things about pleasure.” Jaime felt her spine
involuntarily stiffen and her blood run cold as Edward’s mouth
descended to capture hers.

“Please,” she gasped, turning her face
abruptly, avoiding his lips. His teeth took hold of her earlobe and
moved greedily to her neck. She felt herself sickening as one hand
moved up to squeeze her breast through her dress. She tried to push
away at him, but he was too strong. Frantically, she looked around
for help—she even considered crying out.

“Please stop, Edward. Please,” she begged
softly. “Not now—not here.”

She knew only a moment passed, but it seemed
like eternity before he straightened up. Then, with a look of
longing, he eased his grip on her body. She felt an overwhelming
need to pull away, to run, but he wouldn’t let her go entirely.
Holding on to her hand, he hooked it into his elbow and pushed open
the canvas wall for her to pass.

“You will sit beside me at dinner, my
reluctant little raven. Then perhaps we can pick up where we left
off. Tonight, after all these meddling interlopers have gone their
way.”

But Jaime just looked away, avoiding his
gaze.

The dinner, sumptuous as it was, held little
joy for her. Seated quietly beside the guest of honor, Jaime
listened to the conversations going on around her, partaking only
when necessary.

Few were interested in the progress of her
music students. The family and the retainers of the duke of Norfolk
had considered her thinking far too radical at first, and Jaime was
certain that more than a few still thought her that way. Being
well-trained in music herself, she had taken great pleasure in
setting up music classes for the children when, upon arriving,
she’d found the music master had recently and—for mysterious
reasons—abruptly departed.

Jaime's problem from the start had been that
she had chosen to accept her pupils not on the merit of their
lineage but their desire to learn music. So when it was discovered
that she’d had a washerwoman’s son sitting beside a nobleman’s
daughter, a small furor had erupted—only to subside when the duke
himself surprisingly declared that he could see no harm in the
innocent mingling of voices in song.

Now nearly a year had passed, and Jaime felt
that she was at least winning the battle. While it was true that
not everyone was attending the lessons that could have, it was also
true that many were. The dishonor of sitting beside someone the
world esteemed as less worthy for an hour a day was a concept
totally lost on a young child, but unfortunately many parents
continued to be horrified at the prospect. Nonetheless, the lessons
had survived, and the young musicians were improving.

Later on, as trays of cakes and other sweets
were being cleared, Jaime found herself at the center of the
discussion between Edward and the duke. She had tried to ignore the
young knight’s flirtatious behavior during most of the meal, but
now the conversation seemed to have taken on a more serious
note.

“Aye, Your Grace,” the young warrior was
saying. “Tomorrow I will steal this maiden away to the castle in
Norwich.”

“Not an altogether pleasant place for a young
woman, Edward.”

Jaime’s eyes looked questioningly into
Edward's face. She had heard grim tales of the Norwich Castle. Less
than half a day’s ride from the palace, it was—by all accounts—a
place of death and horrors too terrible to behold. And it was the
place where Edward kept all of his captives taken in battle.

“Will you go there with me, Mistress Jaime?”
he asked casually.

She didn’t know how to refuse his request.
But after what had occurred earlier—with so many present in the
hall—she could hardly feel safe alone with him. Nay, not even for
the briefest of moments. “The lessons...I have the children’s
lessons...”

“The devil take me,” Edward interjected, “but
I’m quite certain those brats can survive a day without you.”

“Edward, this is certainly no way to impress
a young and gentle woman!” The duke could easily see Jaime’s
hesitation. “There is nothing about a handful of prisoners you’ve
captured at sea that would be in the least bit pleasing. On the
other hand, the size of some of the gems you captured might
interest her a bit more...”

“Father.” Edward's determined voice quieted
the older man’s speech. “Mistress Jaime has never had the
opportunity to see the Norwich, the center of our family’s power
and wealth, and I believe it is important to see if the English
half of the blood that flows in my lovely cousin’s veins warms to
the sight of one of England’s greatest cities. As indeed it
should.”

The two men just stared at each other, a
silent message passing between them. Then, as if understanding his
son’s meaning, Norfolk nodded in agreement.

“As indeed it should, my boy.”

“Well, m’lady?” Edward asked again, directing
his attention back to her. His gray eyes flashed his challenge.
“Will you accompany me and my officers to Norwich on the morrow? We
can leave at daybreak and shall return no later than sunset.”

Every eye at the head table was upon her. She
understood the test she was to go through. The ship he’d just
captured was French and there were, from what the duke said,
prisoners that had been taken to Norwich Castle. And now Edward
wanted to sound the depths of her loyalty. Mary had told her that
it was treason to think of the French as friend rather than a foe,
and now Jaime was about to be tested. But what option did she have?
She had, long ago, set her mind that she would live in England, and
now she had to prove her intentions. She must make her break with
the past. Make her future with Edward a reality. Edward's methods
were rough, but he left her little choice. He wants to be sure of
me, she thought, and that is his right.

“I’ll go,” she answered Edward at last. “I’ll
go to Norwich with you.”

The Norwich road, a wide and well-traveled
thoroughfare, provided an easy ride from the duke’s palace at
Kenninghall, and Jaime reined in her sprightly, dappled mare at the
crest of the rolling hill that led down toward the city walls. As
the others rode on, she shaded her eyes against the late-morning
sun and surveyed the bustling city of cloth makers and merchants,
the beautiful spires of the cathedral, and the sinister, gray form
of Norwich Castle—an ominous presence on its hill—sullenly guarding
everything below. Though the fortress belonged to the duke of
Norfolk, it had been used for nothing other than a prison for
longer than anyone remembered. Involuntarily, Jaime shuddered at
the grimness of the sight.

Edward pulled up and started to trot his
hunter back toward the crest of the hill, but as he approached,
Jaime spurred her little mare past him, leaving him in a cloud of
dust as he wheeled and chased her back to the rest of the party.
She simply couldn’t bring herself to be alone with him—not now, not
after what had happened in the Hall. Last night, immediately
following the dinner and while the festivities were still in high
glee, she had escaped to her bedchamber and barred her door,
admitting only Mary when she returned from the Great Hall. As her
cousin put on her shift, Jaime had been tempted to talk to her
about the events that had transpired, but a sense of complicity—of
guilt, almost—kept her from discussing the matter.