“I love her,” Jamie said, “but as God is my witness, I cannot understand why she must do the things she does.”
Francois dropped his usual smile and stared into his cup. “She wants justice in a world that is not just,” he said after a time. “She wants to set things aright.”
“Where was the justice in using me to punish your father?” Jamie could not help but ask. “Why did she not tell me about Pomeroy’s offer and trust me to find a way?”
Francois leaned back and blew out a long breath. “The only person she trusts—besides me—is herself. She took all that happened to us when we were children harder than I did—being motherless, our father’s neglect, losing everything when our grandfather fell ill. Even if she believes you care for her, she will not let herself rely on you.”
“But what of my uncle Stephen and Isobel?” Jamie said. “She shares a close bond with them.”
“She did learn to trust them, so there is hope for you.” Francois waggled an eyebrow. “But as I recall, it did involve a life-and-death struggle.”
“Aye, it did,” Jamie said and shook his head. They sat in silence for a time before he spoke again. “Stephen says the two of you fought him like crazed animals when he and my father found you in Falaise.”
“In sooth, I do not know what would have happened to us if Stephen had not taken it upon himself to act as our protector,” Francois said. “I expect we would have been forced into a whorehouse.”
That was precisely what Jamie’s father said. Jamie hated to think about Linnet as she had been then—a breathtakingly beautiful girl, with no home, no money, and only a brother her age to defend her. It was hard to imagine it now, but Francois had looked almost as pretty as his sister at that age.
Francois sighed. “I fear, my friend, that you will need to prove yourself to Linnet over and over again,” Francois said, then winked. “But she is worth it.”
“She is, indeed,” Jamie said, getting to his feet.
He was tired of talking, and even more tired of thinking about how to manage her and mold her to his will. All he wanted was to be with her, to have her safe in his arms.
He remembered to lift a hand in farewell to Francois as he went out the door. ’Twas past time to go. He’d been away from her far too long.
Chapter Fourteen
Linnet threw her arms around Jamie’s neck as soon as he came through the door. “The bishop kept you far too long.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Did you miss me?”
“I did,” she admitted, since it was far too late to pretend otherwise.
“I missed you more,” Jamie said. Then he gave her a kiss that curled her toes—and almost made her believe it.
She rested her cheek against his chest and sighed as he ran his fingers through her hair. The steadythump-thumpof his heart brought her an unfamiliar sense of peace. In the happiness of the moment, she could almost forget the difficult tasks she had set for herself.
“Francois was here,” she said.
“Hmm.”
She felt a bit guilty for being glad the two had missed each other. But this was their last day in London, and she did not want to share what little time they had left even with her brother.
“Once we return to Windsor, we won’t be able to be together like this,” Jamie said, echoing her thoughts.
Being at Windsor would be like it was in Paris—kissing in darkened courtyards and making love between old pots and bags of grain in dusty storerooms. She suspected that what had seemed exciting to Jamie at eighteen would no longer sit well with him. Jamie was a man now, the sort who was used to living his life in the open, with nothing to hide.
Jamie took her face in his hands and smiled down at her with a soft look in his eyes. “We’ll sneak off as often as we can.”
The secrecy suited her; she was reticent to have anyone know her business. But Jamie was not as comfortable about “sneaking off” as he pretended.
One thing was different from when they were in Paris. While he was affectionate with her, no declaration of love ever passed his lips. She told herself this was good, that it would make it easier when he left her this time.
But she did not believe it.
“Let’s not waste what time we have left here,” Jamie said, lifting her chin. “Come upstairs with me.”
She nodded. However long it lasted, she had him now. Much later, when they lay entwined in her bed in the fading afternoon light, Jamie said, “I could not find the hidden door in the corridor at Westminster.”