Knight of Pleasure (32 page)

Her heart stopped at the sight of Stephen. Last night, he looked like an impossibly handsome prince, bedecked in jewels and
gold trim. Today he was in the sort of clothes he regularly wore. Their very familiarity made her ache to run her fingers
along his collar, down his sleeve.

The usual humor and mischief were missing from his expression, however. His face was drawn, the laughter gone from his deep
brown eyes. How could she have found fault with the easy, lighthearted Stephen of before? The man who made her laugh. She
missed him now more than she could say.

It was evident Stephen’s purpose in coming was to speak to her alone. It was equally clear de Roche would not permit it. After
straining to make small talk for a few minutes, Stephen rose to his feet.

“I leave the city today,” Stephen said, “so I must bid you adieu now, Lady Hume.”

“Wait!”

She said it more loudly than she intended. Both men looked at her expectantly. De Roche’s eyes were narrow, suspicious; Stephen’s
hand was on the hilt of his sword.

“Sir Stephen, I must ask you to take back the two servants you loaned to me,” she said in as cool a voice as she could manage.
She lifted her chin. “My new husband has more than enough servants to meet my needs.”

Stephen furrowed his brow. “You are welcome to keep Linnet and François all the same. I am sure they are a comfort to you
in your new surroundings.”

“My husband provides for my comfort,” she said. “I do not wish to have the girl here. She is headstrong and difficult. Her
behavior is an embarrassment to me.”

Stephen visibly stiffened. The shocked disapproval on his face almost made her falter.

She kept her expression hard and called out, “Linnet!”

On cue, Linnet came quietly into the room. The girl played her part to perfection. She stood, eyes cast down, tears rolling
down her cheeks.

“You and your brother are leaving with me,” Stephen said. Lips pressed together, he grabbed Linnet by the wrist and charged
out. At the door, he turned to cast a scorching look at Isobel that nearly knocked her from her feet.

The hall was silent, save for the muffled sound of retreating footsteps. De Roche stood, mouth agape, staring after them.
It happened so quickly he had no time to object—or to speak at all.

She had done it.

She had saved Linnet and François. They were in Stephen’s hands now, and he would protect them. And she had uncovered the
plot to murder King Henry. The twins would tell Stephen, and he would warn the king. It was enough.

After collecting François, Stephen strode ahead, barely aware of the twins trailing at his heels. Every now and then, Linnet’s
sobs penetrated his stormy thoughts, and he was angry all over again.

How could she dismiss Linnet so coldly? Little Linnet, who was wholly devoted to her. What she said about Linnet was surely
true, but Isobel was always patient and tolerant with the girl before. What happened to her? Was it possible for a woman to
change so much in so short a time?

Her new husband provides all the “comfort” she needs! Comfort, indeed. That remark was meant to cut him to the quick. It had.

He did not notice until he reached the Palais that François and Linnet had fallen behind.

“Sorry, we could not keep up,” François said as they caught up to him on the steps. It was not François, whose legs were nearly
as long as Stephen’s, who could not keep up.

Stephen’s blood was still pounding in his ears. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “I apologize, Linnet.
Come, we shall go to my room now.”

Linnet blew her nose loudly and half coughed, half sobbed. Stephen narrowed his eyes at her—something was not quite right
here. Deciding not to press her at the entrance, where anyone could be watching, he led the way to his room.

The servant assigned to watch him was frantic. “Where did you go, sir? You should have told me—”

“Be gone until morning,” Stephen said as he shoved the man out of the room, “or I shall tell them how easy it was to slip
by you.”

As soon as he slammed the door, Linnet threw her arms up and danced around the room. “Was I not wonderful? You did not guess!
François, you should have seen his face! And de Roche’s!”

He clenched his fists to keep from strangling the girl.

“How could you believe Isobel would throw me out?” Linnet asked, rolling her eyes at him.

“Tell me the reason for this farce,” he demanded.

In the blink of an eye, Linnet’s face changed from delighted self-congratulation to anguish. “Isobel sent me away so I could
tell you that de Roche and his cousin are plotting to kill King Henry.”

What?
His head was spinning. “How does she know this?”

“By spying on de Roche, of course,” Linnet said.

Stephen sat down and closed his eyes. Alone, without a friend in this city, Isobel was spying on de Roche while living in
his house? He shook his head. “What can she be thinking?”

“She is only doing her duty,” Linnet said.

“Is Isobel quite certain of this plot?”

Linnet nodded. “Aye, she found a letter from his cousin in a locked drawer.”

God help her, she was taking chances!

“The cousin writes that all is set to murder the king in church upon some grand occasion.”

Murder the king! He stopped to think. “I wonder if they mean to do it at the knighting at Easter…”

“That is what Isobel believes,” Linnet said. “And she says the cousin is Georges de la Trémoille, because the letter is signed
‘T.’ ”

Stephen nodded, his thoughts on Isobel. “But why did Isobel devise that ruse to send you away? Surely she could have found
another way to get a message to me.”

Linnet’s fair skin went red, and she would not meet his eyes. Stephen turned and raised an eyebrow at François.

Blushing as fiercely as his sister, François stepped next to him and whispered, “As we were walking here, Linnet told me de
Roche was… that he was… after her. She thinks Lady Hume used the message as an excuse to get her away from him.”

God’s blood. Stephen wanted to kill the man with his bare hands.

François straightened and said, “She is right to trust you to protect my sister.”

But who would protect Isobel when de Roche discovered the games she was playing? What could Stephen do now that she was living
with the man? Nothing! Nothing at all. She was de Roche’s wife now, beyond his reach.

He must go quickly to warn the king. Easter was still two weeks away, but men would begin arriving sooner. The conspirators
could be in Caen any day, ready to act. He swallowed hard at the thought of leaving Isobel, of perhaps never seeing her again.
Still, he had to go. He could not let his king be murdered.

But how could he leave her?

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

It was one of the Palais guards. “This young woman says you arranged a… meeting… with her.” The man waggled his eyebrows and
jerked his thumb behind him.

Before Stephen could protest, a stunning woman with smoky dark eyes emerged from behind the guard. In a voice rich with unspoken
promises, she said, “Claudette sent me.”

Stephen winked at the guard. “Claudette knows the best.”

He put his arm around the woman and let his hand slip down to squeeze her nicely rounded bottom as he pulled her inside. With
another wink and a grin, he tossed a gold coin to the guard and kicked the door closed.

He moved his hand to the woman’s arm and guided her to a seat. With languid ease, the woman sank into the chair.

Linnet was scowling at him furiously.

“My name is Sybille,” the woman said in her sultry voice.

“You are a friend of Claudette’s?”

The woman nodded. “I’ve just come from Paris, where I saw her. She asked me to carry some news to you. Something she thought
you should know.”

An hour later, Stephen walked her to the door.

“Thank you, Sybille,” he said. “I hope coming here has not put you at risk.”

The woman shrugged her shoulders and gave him an unconcerned smile. “The guards know me. I have visited important guests at
the Palais before.”

Stephen reached into the pouch at his belt, wondering how much a woman like this cost.

Sybille put her hand over his and shook her head. “I owe Claudette a favor.”

She ran her tongue over her top lip and leaned forward until her breasts were a hair’s breadth from his chest. She smelled
divine.

“Since it is a very big favor I owe her, I could…”

“I appreciate the offer, and you are breathtaking,” he said, putting his hand to his heart, “but I cannot.”

She gave a soft laugh. “You made me lose my wager with Claudette.”

With a saucy wink at François that made the boy blush crimson to his ears, Sybille went out the door, hips swaying.

Stephen sat down to think. What the courtesan told him changed everything.

S
tephen donned his showy clothes—the heavy gold belt, particolored hose, and all the rest—for his grand departure. He had no
choice but to leave the city. A dozen heavily armed men waited outside to make sure he did.

Guy le Bouteiller, the garrison commander, rode beside Stephen to the gate. Stephen liked le Bouteiller and was glad for the
opportunity to have a few words with him.

“I am flattered,” Stephen said, glancing at the column of men armed to the teeth, “but how much trouble do you think these
two children and I could cause on our way to the gate?”

“ ’Tis not what you would do that concerns me,” le Bouteiller said, returning the smile. “Let’s just say there are men in
Rouen who might wish to answer the king of England by returning his envoy without his head.”

“I tell you,” Stephen said, “an honorable man like you would be happier serving King Henry.”

Le Bouteiller did not dispute the point.

Before they parted at the gate Stephen said, “The men of this city make a grave mistake by spurning his peaceful offer.”

“Return in a few months,” le Bouteiller said in a low voice. “Much could change by then.”

“The city should take the generous terms he offers now,” Stephen said, not bothering to keep his own voice down. “Next time,
King Henry will come himself, and he will bring his army.”

With that last warning, Stephen turned his horse. He signaled to the twins to follow and galloped out the city gates.

Isobel felt Linnet’s absence so keenly in her rooms that she simply had to get out for a little while. She slipped down the
stairs, intent on reaching the courtyard unseen. Perhaps everything would not seem so very hopeless in the sunshine.

Seeing Stephen again—and then having him leave her in anger—left her ragged and shaken. Losing the twins at the same time
was more than God should ask of her. The gaping hole in her heart would never heal.

After Stephen and Linnet left, de Roche had taken her hand and told her all was settled. As if it still mattered to her. It
gave her no comfort to know de Roche was prepared to go through the formalities to finalize their marriage now.

She stepped lightly as she passed the door to de Roche’s private parlor. Just when she thought she was safe, the parlor door
creaked open behind her.

She closed her eyes and stood perfectly still, wishing him away. Did God hate her so much that he would even deny her an hour
of solace in the courtyard? Now she would have to listen to de Roche lecture her about not following his command to wait in
her rooms for him.

She had a vision of her life constantly alternating between terror and tedium. Pride had led her to this. She would have been
better off in her father’s care than under the thumb of this tyrant.

He cleared his throat behind her. Slowly, she turned to face him. If she could have drawn breath, she would have screamed.
It could not be! The man standing before her was not de Roche, but the black-haired man who had led the attack on the abbey.

She knew she was not mistaken. The distance from gate to church had not been far in the small abbey; the piercing eyes and
hawkish face were chiseled in her memory.