This, just after he’d fended off their last host’s buxom and oh-so-willing daughter. “How can you, of all men, lecture me about women?”
“Who better?” Robert said. “I do not suggest you be celibate, God forbid. Only do try to exercise better judgment.”
“Did William ask you to speak with me about this?”
Robert’s laugh rang out through the empty street. “William would sooner put you in chains as a remedy than have me advise you about women!”
Stephen sighed. “Not that it is your concern, but I am finished with Marie.” Of course, Marie did not know that yet.
Marie. Good God, he’d forgotten their liaison tonight. Marie was not a woman easily deterred. When he failed to come to their meeting place, she would seek him out. Even go to his bedchamber—
“St. Wilgefort’s beard!” He abandoned Robert in the middle of the dark street and took off running.
Luckily, the men on duty at the gate were drinking companions of his. With a few ribald shouts, they waved him through. He raced across the endless expanse of bailey yard to the Old Palace. Breathing hard, he took the steps to the second floor two at a time and sprinted down the dimly lit corridor to the chamber he shared with Jamie.
If he was too late, William would have his head, for sure.
When he burst into the chamber, two heads popped up from the bed. Marie lay sprawled over Jamie, her gown pushed down below her breasts. But God was with him; the bedclothes were still between Marie and his nephew.
Jamie bolted upright, sending Marie rolling sideways. With a dramatic sigh, Marie raised herself up on one arm and looked at Stephen. She did not cover herself.
“He is a bit young for you, Marie,” Stephen said, keeping his tone light. “You must be twice his age.”
A smile twitched at her lips. “I swear, Stephen,” she said, widening her eyes, “he gave every sign he was old enough.”
He closed his eyes briefly. Would this night ever end? “Time to go, Marie.”
She took her time squeezing her breasts back into her tight bodice—a process Jamie followed closely. When she slid down from the high bed, she made sure her gown rode up high on her thighs.
Stephen picked up her cloak from the floor, draped it around her shoulders, and led her to the door.
“The three of us?” she whispered close to his ear.
He gave his head a firm shake. “How does your husband handle you?”
“Not nearly as well as you do,” she said as he eased her out the door.
He bolted it behind her, then turned to face his nephew, who sat on the bed looking shamefaced and disheveled. “Stay away from that woman.”
“I was asleep—she was on me before I knew it,” Jamie fumbled. “She thought I was you, at first. I did not mean to… I… I know she is yours…”
“She is not mine, praise God. Marie has a husband.” He sank onto a nearby stool. Wearily, he pulled his boots off and tried to think of the right words. “You are but fifteen—”
“Nearly sixteen,” Jamie interrupted. “Surely you’ll not tell me I am too young. She would not be my first.”
Stephen lifted his eyes heavenward for help that did not come. “Believe me, you are too young to bed this particular woman,” he said. “And much too good a man.”
He looked at his nephew, trying to see him as the young man he was now, without also seeing the boy who used to toddle after him. Deep blue eyes, dark hair. Too handsome for his own good.
“Many women will want you,” he said at last. “That does not mean you must bed them all.”
“You do.”
Stephen rubbed his temples. “Nay, not all of them.”
God in heaven, he was a fool to think Jamie had been unaware. Forget William’s wrath, Catherine would skin him alive. How many times had she admonished him that Jamie looked up to him? Lately, he had not believed it possible his nephew still did.
“Aye, there have been a lot of women lately,” he admitted, exhaling a long breath. “And I can tell you, there is no lasting satisfaction in meaningless affairs with frivolous women. ’Tis much better to look for what your parents have.”