“If you wanted to get her alone, you could manage it,” Stephen said with a shrug. “That is what we men do. ’Tis why having a daughter frightens me half to death.”
As much as it annoyed Jamie to hear it, Stephen’s words had the ring of truth. Those weeks in Paris, he and Linnet had kissed—and more—behind doors, under stairs, in the mews…
“And if a woman wants a man, she will make it easy for him to find her alone.” Stephen spread out his hands. “It has been that way from the beginning of time.”
Jamie thought of Linnet’s eagerness. How many times did they make love on the floor because they could not wait to reach the bed? He would miss that fiery passion.
He did miss it.
He tried not to think about the ache in his chest as he and Stephen walked across the windswept meadow outside the gates of Stafford’s manor house. Spring came late here in Northumberland. It would be several weeks before the ground they walked would be planted with rye or wheat.
The wind flapped at Jamie’s clothes as they stopped to watch the dark clouds rolling in over the hills. Living here would suit him. He liked the open spaces and clean smells—and Northumberland’s distance from the politics of London.
Neither of them had spoken since they left the gate, but Stephen broke the silence now.
“Most men are satisfied with a bride who brings a fair dowry and has the skills to manage a household,” Stephen said. “If their wives do not suit them, most men are content to keep mistresses and get their pleasure from other women.”
After a long pause, Stephen said, “But we are not like most men.”
Stephen was right. If Agnes was to be his wife, ’twas past time he kissed her. Once he set his mind to it, it was nothing to get her out a back door of the manor house. Taking her hand, he began walking her toward the woods. He did not intend to roll on the wet ground with her, but he wanted privacy for this.
He had bedded a good many women to forget Linnet the first time. Since he was going to be a married man, this time he would have to forget her with only one. No easy task, but he was determined. He knew what he wanted: a calm and steady life. What he did not want was a wife who was always at the center of tumult and mayhem—and usually the cause of it.
Agnes’s hand was dry and cold in his and did not clasp his back. He was undeterred. He was going to prove Stephen wrong and kiss her senseless. He would make her sweat. Sweaty and breathless. She would beg him not to stop. But he would stop, because he was an honorable man. A true knight.
“Sir James, please slow your pace.”
He turned to find Agnes’s hood had fallen back and her cheeks were pink with exertion. She was a pretty woman, really.
She gasped as he pulled her close. He cupped her cheek and looked into her grave eyes. Innocent as she was, she had to know he was going to kiss her now. Instead of softening or becoming nervous, as he expected, her lips thinned into a line of disapproval.
But that was only because she hadn’t been kissed before. Not by him, anyway. He leaned down to brush a kiss on her cheek and blow a soft breath into her ear.
Nothing. No indrawn breath. No sigh. No soft breasts pressing against his chest.
He sucked in his breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. This time, he put his lips to hers. How was he to feel lustful when she did not move? An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach, as if he were doing something wrong. It made no sense. Hell, he’d kissed girls since he was twelve and never felt a shred of guilt for it.
He was relieved when she pulled away.
He reminded himself that they were almost strangers, and she was an innocent. In time, he would awaken passion in her.
“You do know what husbands and wives do to have children?” He ran a finger down her arm and gave her a slow smile. “You want children, do you not?”
She nodded, her expression solemn. “I pray I will have many children to give to the church,” she said. “They shall serve God as I was not permitted to do.”
“You want them all to be nuns and priests?” He was almost too surprised to get the question out.
“I prefer the boys be monks.”
Jamie wasn’t sure he liked the idea of one of his daughters spending her life in a nunnery, but it was hard to know with girls. Boys were another matter.
“My sons will be strong knights in the service of the king. None will choose to wear a cleric’s robe. They will be fighters, every one.”
Agnes folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. “As we are speaking plainly, Sir James, I wish to know if you intend to follow the church’s guidance regarding marital conjugation.”
Jamie felt his eyebrows reach almost to his hairline. She could not mean what he thought she did. Surely not.
“The church admonishes us that the only righteous purpose of conjugation is procreation.”