Infamous (21 page)

He filled a crystal dish with strawberries and cream and set it before her. “Jory, did you marry Humphrey de Bohun because you were in love with him?”

She was tempted to lie, but found that she could not. “No. I wed Humphrey because my family and King Edward gave me no choice.”

Warwick's heart began to sing. All the pangs of jealousy he'd suffered were for naught.

“Of course, I came to love him later.”
At least, I hope I did.

His jealousy came flooding back. He was cursed with it where Jory was concerned. He hoped and prayed that once she was his, the curse would be broken.

When they were finished dining, Guy helped her from her chair. This time, however, his hands cupped her shoulders possessively, and he dropped a quick kiss on her silvery curls. “Come, I shall escort you back to your bower. I have something to ask you.” He enfolded her hand in his and led her back upstairs. He did not pause at his chamber, but took her back to her own.

Guy sat her down and knelt before her so that their eyes were on the same level. “Jory, you deserve a husband who will love you to distraction. If you will consent to be my wife, I will love you all my days. I want to make you the Countess of Warwick, and because I deem it unconscionable that you have no property of your own, I will deed you my castle near the village of Sutton, a day's ride from Warwick. Jory, will you marry me?”

It was the greatest temptation she had ever had to face. The powerful Earl of Warwick had created a magic haven just for her. Everything about his offer was enticing. It would be the easiest thing in the world for Jory to accept.
If I were not having another man's child, I would grab this chance for happiness.

She reached out to touch his hand. “I thank you for your offer of marriage, Guy de Beauchamp…but I cannot accept it.”

He shot to his feet, strode to the window, and came back again. “Damn you, Jory! You are more stubborn and willful than a dozen men-at-arms!” He paced to the window and smote the stone sill.

Jory stood up. “I must return to Kenilworth.”

He turned toward her. The look on his dark face was incredulous. “What the hellfire are you talking about? I have abducted you. I intend to keep you until you agree to marry me. A few days at Warwick and you will be so compromised, you will have no other choice!”

Her voice was cool and determined. “Guy, I will not stay here.”

He swiftly closed the distance between them and with powerful hands lifted her in the air. He began to shake her vigorously, deliberately. It was a full minute before he set her feet down. Then he bent and swept the iron key from the carpet where it had fallen. “Will you not, Lady Marjory? Then I give you no choice.” Warwick strode from the chamber and turned the key in the lock.

Through the door, she flung his own words after him. “Damn you, Warwick, this is outright blackmail!”

 

Jory hoped he would return, yet deep down inside she knew he would not.
When Marjory Bruce told me of her abduction, I thought it the most romantic thing I'd ever heard. Ironically, now that it has happened to me, I am incensed!

There was little point in railing against her situation since there were none to hear her, and in the end it would alter nothing. She prowled the circular room for a long time, walking off her frustration before she decided to conserve her energy, sit down quietly, and plan her best course of action. Until he unlocked the chamber door in the morning, she was virtually his prisoner.

Jory knew she must concoct a plan. She must use her wits against him—it was the only weapon she possessed. She and Joanna had always said there wasn't a man breathing who could not be manipulated. Jory reassured herself that it had worked on Edward Plantagenet, yet she was acutely aware that the Earl of Warwick was not so easily deceived. He was shrewd enough to know where she had hidden the key.

“To manipulate is to get one's way by unfair means, and the simplest way to do that is to use his own words against him.” When her plan was finally set and she knew exactly what she would say, Jory removed her dress and hung it in the wardrobe to keep it wrinkle free. A female's appearance always played a paramount role when dealing with the male of the species. She climbed into the large, comfortable bed, knowing that a good night's sleep was the best beauty aid in the world.

As soon as the dawn light crept in through the east window of her chamber, Jory lay absolutely still until her morning queasiness passed off, and then she arose and went to the mirror. “I must appeal to his protective instincts. When I beseech him, I must remember to look feminine and helpless.” She refrained from pinching her cheeks to add color; a pale ethereal look would serve her better. She washed and dressed, then used the silver brushes he had provided to untangle her hair and make it billow about her shoulders in a shining mass. Then she sat down to await him.

When Guy de Beauchamp unlocked the chamber door and stepped inside, he thought he had girded himself against any and all appeals Jory would make to him. But this morning she looked as sweet and innocent as she had when she was eighteen, and it touched his heart. With an effort, he kept tenderness from his voice when he spoke. “Do you have something to say to me, lady?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said softly. “I spent the night thinking of the things you said to me. I am half convinced that you told me the truth about the way you feel about me.”

“Only half? Jory, every word I said was from my heart.”

She looked at him solemnly. “You told me that you love me.”

“I
do
love you. You are the only woman I have
ever
loved.”

“If you truly love me, Guy, you will release me.”

He stared at her aghast. She had cut the legs from beneath him. There was no argument he could make that would not turn him into a foul liar in her eyes, as well as a coward.

“Then I release you, Jory.”

She saw that his face had gone paler than her own. “Yes, Guy, I knew you would,” she said softly.

“Have some breakfast and I will take you back to Kenilworth.”

 

On the five-mile ride along the River Avon, Jory's heart felt strange. One moment it felt as if it was bursting with happiness and the next like it was drowning in sorrow. Guy de Beauchamp, the infamous Earl of Warwick, truly was in love with her. He was proving it beyond a shadow of doubt by returning her to Kenilworth, yet more than anything in the world she wanted to stay with him. Jory hardened her heart.
I must be mad! He was the first man to betray me—why would I give any man the chance to betray me again?

She rode beside him across the causeway; then they drew rein before the portcullis. He dismounted from Caesar and lifted her down from the palfrey he had saddled for her at Warwick. He didn't release her immediately. His hands clung to her possessively while he gazed down at her. Finally, he dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers.
“Au revoir, chéri.”

 

When Jory passed her uncle's chamber on her way to her own, she decided to see how he was faring. Yesterday, when she saw him, he had looked worn out. She knocked and a servitor who had just brought the Earl of Surrey's breakfast opened the door.

“Hello, John. I hope you are feeling rested today.”

“Yes, I do feel better. Those long days in the saddle tired me out.” He looked at her windblown hair and waited until the servant left. “Apparently, you don't have that problem. Where would you ride to at such an early hour, Minx?”

“Actually, I've just ridden back from Warwick.”

“Warwick?” John's brows drew together. “He was here yesterday when you rode in. Did he invite you to visit his castle?”

“Something like that.” Jory was curious. “Why was he here?”

“I wanted to express my gratitude for replacing me at Falkirk and to congratulate him on his victory. Without Warwick we would have suffered ignominious defeat. Is Warwick courting you again?”

“Something like that,” she repeated evasively.

“He'd be a damn good catch for a widow, Jory.”

“You've certainly changed your tune about the infamous earl.”

“When you were eighteen, Warwick was not a suitable match. I made it plain to him at the time and he agreed with me.”

Jory went very still. “Did Guy de Beauchamp offer for me?”

“Among others. We chose the young noble we thought best for you, Marjory,” he said defensively.

“We? By
we
I suppose you are referring to you and Lynx?”

“I was your legal guardian. Warwick came to me, not to Lynx.”

“But my brother knew about Warwick's offer of marriage?”

John de Warenne pressed his lips together.

“Devious old devil!” Jory rushed from his presence. At this moment she could not bear the sight of him. She went straight to her brother's room and hammered on the door.

Lynx opened it. “Jory, is something amiss? Is it John?”

She glanced at Jane, who was eating her breakfast in bed. “John is a lying swine, and you are no better!”

“What is this about, Marjory?” Lynx looked truly perplexed.

“It is about Guy de Beauchamp, the man I fell in love with. The man whose offer for me you refused, then concealed from me.”

Lynx looked at Jory, shamefaced. “At the time, I thought it the right thing to do for your own protection. I had no idea what love was until I married Jane. Had I known then what I know now, I would have given you and Warwick my blessing.”

My God, it wasn't Warwick who betrayed me; it was the men of my own family, the men who were supposed to love me!

 

Jory rode into the bailey of Warwick Castle. She slid down from Sheba and handed the reins to one of Warwick's men. “I have come to see the earl. Where would he likely be at this hour?”

“I warrant His Lordship is in Warwick's Great Hall, my lady.” He pointed toward the square stone edifice. “Yonder, through the castle's main entrance.”

“Thank you. Would you be kind enough to stable my palfrey?”

As she walked up the castle steps and through the massive oaken doors, Jory's knees began to tremble. Men-at-arms and household servants stepped aside and stared curiously at the elegant young noblewoman with the silver-gilt tresses.

When the hall suddenly quietened, Guy de Beauchamp raised his dark head to see what had caused silence to descend. He was stunned when he saw that Marjory had returned. He strode down the hall to meet her, his unruly heart hammering in his eardrums.

She went down into a deep curtsy before him. “My lord earl, I have come to offer you my abject apology.”

He took her hands and raised her quickly. “Do not abase yourself to me, Jory. Come in here, where we can be private.” With a firm hand beneath her elbow, he led her into a smaller map room off the Great Hall and closed the door.

“My uncle, John de Warenne, and Lynx have just admitted they lied to me and that you did indeed make a formal offer of marriage for me. All these years I believed you had betrayed me, and I have come to beg your forgiveness.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Jory.”

Oh God, there is…there is!

“Guy de Beauchamp, I have come to ask if you will marry me.”

Warwick's face suddenly lit up with joy.

Quickly she reached up her hand to cover his mouth and echoed the words he had said to her so long ago when he had proposed. “Don't answer me now. You must think about this long and hard. Your life would be irrevocably altered forever. The wrong decision could make you hate me with a vengeance someday.” Though she trembled, she looked into his eyes. “I am going to have a child.”

Warwick's gut twisted with anguish. “Who is the father?”

She lifted her head proudly. “If you marry me, my lord,
you
will be my child's father.”

He did not hesitate. What sort of man would hesitate when his beloved needed him? “I am honored to accept your proposal, Jory.”

She swayed toward him. “Guy, I thank you with all my heart.”

W
arwick caught Jory before she fell and lifted her to sit on a map table. “Would you like me to escort you to Kenilworth, so we can break the news to your family and collect your baggage?”

“No…I am not speaking to my family. We are estranged!”

“Because of the child?” he asked gently.

“God in heaven, they don't know about my baby. You and I are the only two people in the world who know my secret. Once we are wed, they will assume you are the father, unless you deny it.”

“I won't deny it, Jory. I give you my word that I will do my utmost to think of it as my child.”
Being needed is the next best thing to being wanted, I warrant.

“You are all I need, Guy. Can you please send for my baggage?”

“I will take care of it. What about your ladies?”

“I don't have any ladies. I've always looked after myself.”

He grinned at her. “A countess without ladies-in-waiting is a unique concept. Warwick should be able to provide you with a competent tiring woman or two, if that arrangement suits you.”

“Can Warwick provide a priest?” Jory asked anxiously.

He cocked an amused brow. “You think us ungodly as well as uncivilized? Warwick not only has a priest but also a chapel. I'll go and make the arrangements. Is tomorrow too soon for you?”

Today would be better!
“Tomorrow would be perfect, my lord.”

“Up you go, then.” He swept her into his arms from her perch on the table and lifted her high against his heart.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

“Taking you up to your tower room.”

“You mustn't carry me in front of your men. They'll think—”

“They'll think I cannot keep my hands from you and they will be right. Tomorrow you'll be the Countess of Warwick—they'll have to get used to it, and so will you, Marjory de Beauchamp.”

Her smile was tremulous. “I've waited so long to be Marjory de Beauchamp. Tomorrow you may carry me; today I'd rather walk.” He kissed her ear and set her down. “Whatever you desire, love.”

In midafternoon all her luggage arrived and was carried up to her tower chamber by Warwick's men. Mr. Burke led the way and brought an attractive older woman with dark hair and lively eyes.

“Lady Marjory, allow me to present Meg, who will help you unpack and is most eager to serve you in any way.”

Meg bobbed a curtsy and said cheerfully, “Most eager to see your pretty clothes at any rate, my lady.”

Jory laughed. “How delightful. A woman with a sense of humor and an eye for fashion is worth her weight in gold, I warrant.”

Mr. Burke rolled his eyes. “If you don't keep Meg in her place, my lady, she will take untold liberties.”

When the steward closed the door, Jory asked, “Have you lived at Warwick all your life, Meg?”

“I came with His Lordship's first wife, Isabel de Clare; then I was tiring woman to his second wife, Alyce de Toeni, and nursemaid to young Rickard until he grew too big for his boots. If there's aught you want to know about Warwick, ask me. I know
everything
.”

Jory hid her amusement. Clearly Meg wanted to gossip, and though Jory was curious about many things, she had more good sense than to listen to idle rumor from a servant about her bridegroom. She skillfully diverted the conversation to her elegant gowns as they were unpacked and hung in the wardrobe.

“Princess Joanna gifted me with the exquisite silk material for this gown when I was her lady-in-waiting. I've never worn it because I was saving it for a special occasion. I've decided to wear it tomorrow when I marry His Lordship.”

“I've never seen anything as lovely.” Meg held the pale jade silk so that its silver threads reflected the light. “It exactly matches the green of your eyes. You will easily be the most beautiful bride ever to be wed at Warwick, my lady.”

“Thank you for the generous compliment, Meg. I am most flattered, and thank you for making me feel welcome.”

Meg grimaced. “It's a man's world, Warwick Castle more than most places. Us women must stick together.”

That night Mr. Burke brought a supper tray to Jory's room and she ate alone, wondering where Guy was and why he didn't join her. When it was full dark and she was about to retire she heard noises in the chamber beneath hers; then she heard him climb the stairs.

“I came to bid you good night, Jory.” He looked at her quizzically. “Can you explain to me why you could not accept my proposal of marriage, no matter how I coerced you, yet you deemed it acceptable if
you
did the proposing?”

“It would have been so easy to say yes. But my conscience wouldn't allow it. The choice had to be yours, my lord.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Tomorrow we will keep the promise we made to each other almost five years ago.
Bonne nuit,
my love.”

An hour later, Jory lay wide-awake feeling both lonely and vulnerable.
Guy didn't hesitate…He made it plain he wanted to marry me even after I told him about the baby. I didn't dare tell him the father's name. He must never know.
She turned over.
Why wasn't he eager to exchange vows today? He must have needed time to get used to the idea.
She curled over onto her side.
I am so thankful he came to my rescue. I love him with all my heart.
She wrapped her arms about the pillow and clung to it.
Guy is the only one I have now.
Jory sighed.
Guy is the only one I need.

In the chamber below, Warwick lay wide-awake.
She wouldn't tell me his name. I won't press her, but I will find out the name of the swine who did this to her, then abandoned her.
Raw jealousy flared up in him. He thumped his pillow.
I'll kill the whoreson!
A need to protect Jory and her child engulfed him.
You've been given a rare chance for happiness, Warwick. Don't squander it this time.

 

Jory opened her eyes to a chamber filled with sunlight. When no hint of nausea threatened she smiled and stretched luxuriously.

“This is the happiest day of my life!” Her thoughts were suddenly shadowed by the estrangement with her family, but she vowed not to let it ruin her wedding day.

A nosegay of white roses decorated the breakfast tray that Meg brought, along with a note that read:
I count the hours until you are mine. Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick.

Jory smiled a secret smile and sighed with happiness. “He is such a romantic devil.”

“He can be a devil all right…I don't know about romantic.”

Jory laughed. “Meg, don't disillusion me on my wedding day.”

After breakfast, maids carried in hot water for Jory's bath and Meg helped her wash her hair. “I've never seen hair like yours. It sparkles in the sunlight and makes you look like an angel.”

“A devil and an angel—a perfect match, I warrant.”

Two hours later Jory examined her reflection in the mirror and sighed with resignation that, garbed in the pale green silk with her hair falling to her waist, she looked no more than eighteen.

Jory picked up her roses and took a deep steadying breath. “You'll have to show me where the chapel is, Meg.”

Meg pressed her lips together. “That honor has been claimed by Mr. Burke. I'd best hurry down and tell him you're ready.”

Warwick awaited his bride outside the chapel rather than at the altar as custom dictated. “Thank you, Mr. Burke.” Guy took her hand and waited until his steward went inside the church. “I will always remember the way you look today, Jory. The wait has been well worth it.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “Please don't be angry with me when you go inside and find your family there. I could not bear to be a bone of contention between you and the people who love you. I went to Kenilworth yesterday and asked Lynx to give the bride away.”

She looked up at him and felt like laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh, Guy, you have forgiven them to spare me distress.”

“Nonsense. Two great noble families such as de Warenne and de Beauchamp should be allies, not antagonists.”

Jory fought back tears. “Guy, you have made me so happy.”

“From this day forward that is my sole purpose in life,” he vowed with mock solemnity. He led her into the chapel, where her brother stood patiently waiting for her.

Lynx enfolded her in his arms. “I wish you happiness, Jory.”

Brother and sister watched the bridegroom stride up the aisle and take his place at the altar to await his bride. Lynx bent to murmur, “Poor devil, I don't envy him the taming of you.”

Jory floated up the aisle on her brother's arm, smiling radiantly upon the Warwick knights who filled the chapel and her heart filled with joy when she saw her uncle John de Warenne on the front row, standing beside Jane. “Lynx, you and I are truly blessed,” she whispered. “We both got our heart's desire.”

When Lynx stepped back, Jory looked up at Guy and saw his dark eyes were filled with adoration for her. The priest began the Solemnization of Matrimony, but she was so focused on the man who towered at her side that she barely heard the words. Pride was boldly stamped in every line of his face, and Jory gave thanks that she was marrying a mature man with a strong personality, who could be a law unto himself if the mood took him. That he was a powerful earl of the realm with both wealth and property imbued her with a sense of security, and his renowned fighting skills as a warrior made her feel totally protected from life's dangers.

Guy made his nuptial vows to her solemnly, seriously, and Jory offered hers sincerely, from the depths of her heart. He opened his large hand and she saw that nestled with her wedding ring was a perfect white rosebud, proving he was an unabashed romantic.

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

Jory was thrilled that the wide gold band fit her finger exactly, and she listened carefully as the priest said the final words: “Forasmuch as Guy and Marjory have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

At the marriage feast, Jory insisted that Jane sit beside her so she could tell her the whole romantic saga that had begun almost five years ago between herself and the infamous Warwick.

Jane listened with fascination. “Obviously, you were fated to be together. It was written in the stars. Your husband's love surrounds you like an aura…I can see it, feel it.”

“I'm so happy that Guy rode to Kenilworth yesterday and made peace between our families.” Jory put her lips to Jane's ear. “He has such a tender heart, though he pretends otherwise.”

“We will be journeying to Hedingham shortly. I suspect it is a grand castle such as this one. I would feel much more confident if you were going with me, Jory. I shall miss you terribly.”

“Warwick's castle of Flamstead is close by Hedingham. Guy breeds horses there. It will be the easiest thing in the world to convince him that we should visit there soon.” She gave him a tempting, sideways glance. “He can deny me nothing.”

He gave her an indulgent grin. “Not tonight, at any rate.”

When the tables were cleared, Warwick musicians provided music, but there was no dancing planned. “Wait until I take over as chatelaine,” Jory teased. “We'll have dancing and singing, and none of your knights will be excused. I'll arrange lessons for them.”

“If you can bring elegance or even a smattering of civilization to Warwick, my love, it will be a miracle.”

The toasts to the bride began and Guy gallantly answered each one and then proposed one of his own that set everyone in the Great Hall to cheering. The hour was late when the de Warennes reluctantly got up to return to Kenilworth, and Guy and Marjory accompanied their guests out to the courtyard.

John wrapped his arms about Jory and kissed her brow. “My dearest child, I pray you find it in your heart to forgive what I did to you. My intentions were for your welfare—I only ever wanted your happiness. I hope you will find that with Warwick.”

“I'm sure I will. I love you, John. Take care of yourself.”

When Lynx wrapped his arms about her, she reached up and whispered in his ear, “I want the kind of love that you and Jane share and I intend to have it. I've quite made up my mind!”

 

Hands clasped, the newlyweds began to climb the stairs of the master tower, but Warwick, impatient to reach the privacy of his chamber, swung Jory up into his arms and did not set her feet to the carpet until they were over the threshold. He kicked the door shut with his foot. “Welcome to my life, Marjory de Beauchamp.” He brushed the golden tendrils of hair back from her face, then cupped it with his hands as his gaze traveled from the gilt curls at her temples, to her green eyes, along her high cheekbones, and down to her pretty lips. “Your eyelashes are silver tipped with gold and your mouth turns up at the corners when you smile.” When he brushed his lips against hers, she opened them as he hoped she would to invite and welcome his kisses.