“Like hell they did,” Jamie said. “I expect my father locked the older girls in their bedchambers until he raised the drawbridge behind you.”
“I never got closer to them than thirty feet,” Owen said with a grin. “By the by, your entire family threatens to come here if you do not pay them a visit soon.”
“I am anxious to see them, too, but I cannot leave Windsor yet.”
“Your parents hinted they had something important to discuss with you.” Owen elbowed him. “Don’t suppose they’ve finally found some poor girl to wed you, do you?”
They walked along the path by the river in companionable silence, looking for a good spot. The rain had stopped, but the path was slippery with mud.
Jamie looked over his shoulder to be sure Martin had gone, before saying in a low voice, “Linnet is here.”
Owen turned to stare at him, the whites of his eyes showing against the mud. “Linnet? The same Linnet whose name no man dared mention to you for five years?”
“The very one.”
After a long pause, Owen said, “Has she a husband now?”
Jamie shook his head.
“You bedding her yet?”
Jamie did not answer.
Owen laughed. “I can see you have, you devil.”
Jamie shrugged.
“Ha, I knew it!” Owen said. “You two could never keep your hands off each other.”
That was true enough, but it had been more than that for him back in Paris. Jamie stopped and looked out across the river. He took a deep breath and told himself he would not let it happen again—and he did not mean just the bedding part.
“I have bad news for you, Jamie boy,” Owen said. “She seems to be the only one who will do for you. Instead of fighting against it, why don’t you fight for her this time?”
Jamie snapped his head around and glared at Owen. “Aye, I said fight for her. But for God’s sake, Jamie, fight dirty this time.” Owen raised his muddy fist in the air. “Fight hard. Fight to win.”
“As a Welshman, you may be willing to chain a woman to your hearth, but we English are more civilized.”
“I can see I shall have to speak plainly, since you are but a slow-witted Englishman,” Owen said, shaking his head. “Last time, you left the field.”
“After what she did, how—”
“Ach!” Owen said, dismissing his objection with a wave. “The other man found you in bed with her, not the other way around. What is your complaint?”
“She deceived me, scoffed at my good intentions, and made a fool of me.” Not to mention, ripping his heart from his chest.
“You know nothing about women! Your problem is that you feel you must be truthful,” Owen said. “Believe me, if I loved a woman as you do—and do not even attempt to tell me you do not—I would find a way to keep her.”
Jamie put his weight behind a shove that sent Owen sliding down the slippery riverbank. Owen waved his arms wildly, trying to catch his balance before his feet went out from under him and he disappeared over the bank.
“Enjoy the water!” Jamie shouted as he clapped the dirt from his hands. “Catch me a fish while you’re in there.”
He heard a muffled string of curses coming from below.
Now that was satisfying. He’d feel even better if he could find an excuse to throw a few punches.
“Sir James!”
Jamie turned to see Martin coming down the path with an armful of towels and went to meet him.