Notorious (5 page)

“I'll race you,” he challenged. He dropped the shirt and began to run, splashing through the shallow water until he reached her.

“I shouldn't…but I shall!” Brianna's eyes widened.
The bold devil has a dragon tattooed on his thigh!
She blushed.
I've never seen anything so shameful.
Brianna turned quickly and dove beneath the water, heading toward the middle of the river where the tide ran more swiftly. She battled the current with long, strong strokes, thoroughly enjoying herself by showing off her prowess. They touched the other bank at almost the same time. Wolf Mortimer's dark face threw her an insolent grin, and then he dove beneath the surface. When his head emerged, he was halfway across the river and her heart sank. Determined not to give up, she put her head down, stroked powerfully with her arms, and kicked strongly with her long legs.

He was sitting on the riverbank when she arrived.

“I'm wearing a shift—you had me at a disadvantage.”

He gave her back her own words. “And always shall.” His gray eyes filled with admiration. “I will never let you win out of gallantry, Brianna. That would be an insult. Take pride in how well you acquitted yourself, and know that in the future, if you prevail in any challenge with me, it will be a worthy victory.”

“Are all Welsh Borderers this arrogant?”

“Only Mortimers, I warrant.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Are all shifts this transparent?”

Brianna crossed her arms over her breasts. “You Welsh devil!” She ran to the skiff to retrieve her clothes. When she emerged through the rushes respectably dressed, she found herself alone. The image of his lithe, hirsute body, however, was indelibly imprinted in her mind. She could see the sun-bronzed muscles of his chest and his wide shoulders as if he were still standing before her. And the dragon! She could definitely see the dragon. She told herself it was because Wolf Mortimer was the first naked male she had ever seen and determinedly ignored her wildly beating heart.

 

“Wolf Mortimer, welcome to Warwick. I hope you bring us good tidings.” The countess kissed him on both cheeks and unfolded the letter from her husband.

“We met with success, my lady, but I'm sure you would prefer to hear the details from Lord Warwick. He has generously offered his hospitality to some of the Marcher barons and all should be here by tomorrow or next day at the latest.”

Jory's eyes scanned the paper. “So he informs me. I see he has invited the Earl of Hereford.”

Wolf saw something flicker in her green eyes and tried to identify it. It wasn't anger, nor was it fear. It was more like a memory from the past that disconcerted her. The Countess of Warwick had such a serene confidence, he was surprised to see it waver. She summoned Mr. Burke and handed the steward Warwick's communication. “They'll start arriving tomorrow night.”

“Hereford is bringing his own campaign tents,” Wolf told Burke.

“Very good. I'll plenish your chamber, my lord.”

Brianna arrived on the scene. “Is Father coming home?”

“Very soon, darling. Wolf was good enough to bring a message.” Jory looked at her daughter's dripping tresses and then her glance was drawn to Mortimer's wet hair.

Wolf bowed. “Ladies.” He had seen the countess's curious glance.
Now she has something else to disconcert her.

 

Warwick Castle, its stables, and its surrounding pastures were filled to capacity. It was almost time for the evening meal and Jory de Beauchamp, with Brianna at her side, stood in the Great Hall to welcome their noble guests.

Roger Mortimer arrived, accompanied by a much older man with a craggy face and iron-gray hair. “Do you remember my uncle, Lady Warwick? You met at my wedding many long years ago.”

Jory's smile was warm and welcoming. “How could I forget the other Roger Mortimer?”

The older man took her fingers to his lips. “I'm called Mortimer of Chirk so none will confuse us. You look as young and radiant as you did two decades ago, my lady.”

“Thank you, sir. This is my daughter, Brianna de Beauchamp.”

Brianna tore her gaze from the handsome Mortimer and smiled at the older male.

“A rare beauty. Is she spoken for?”

Brianna laughed prettily. “Are you interested, Lord Chirk?”

“A beauty and a charmer. Your daughter knows just how to flatter an old man. Takes after her mother, I warrant.”

Mr. Burke led them away and Brianna saw her mother put her hand to her throat as if she were suddenly unsure of herself. Curious about who could have such an effect on her mother, Brianna stared at the trio of males who had just entered the hall.

The countess stepped forward and held out her hands in an effusive welcome. “Lord Hereford, it is an honor to welcome you to Warwick. These tall young men must be your sons.”

Brianna saw the earl gaze at her mother with longing.
Good heavens, he looks as if he's in love with her.

The Earl of Hereford took the Countess of Warwick's hand to his lips. “Jory, you look exactly the same. I should never have let you get away.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, these are my sons. John and Humphrey de Bohun.”

The handsome brothers were tall, fair-haired replicas of their father. When Brianna smiled, both looked at her hungrily. A sudden thought struck her.
Mother's first marriage was to a de Bohun.
She took a closer look at Hereford.

The steward, who had seated the Mortimers, now returned for the Earl of Hereford and his sons.

Brianna could not contain her curiosity. “What did the earl mean when he said he should never have let you get away?”

“I was wed to his brother, Humphrey de Bohun. When he died in battle, the old earl wanted me for his second son,” Jory explained.

“The old earl wasn't the only one who wanted you. De Bohun is still in love with you.”

“Nonsense.” Jory blushed. “When I refused the offer, he wasted no time marrying a royal princess.”

“Was Elizabeth Plantagenet your friend?”

“No. Joanna was my friend…Her sister, Elizabeth, had her own household and her own ladies. The de Bohuns gave such loyal service to the late king, he rewarded them with his daughter.”

“Hereford's sons are rather handsome, and become even more attractive when you consider their mother was a royal princess.”

“Ah yes, until you remember there is a streak of something akin to madness in the Plantagenet bloodline.”

Brianna thought of King Edward and shuddered. “Here's Father.”

“At last! He was only gone four months, but to me it felt like four years.”

Warwick caressed his daughter's cheek, and then enfolded his wife in his arms. “Have you seen Hereford?” he asked anxiously. “Those were such unhappy years for you. I hope that seeing him didn't dredge up sad memories.”

“Of course not. It is so good to have you home, my darling.”

They have eyes only for each other. 'Tis plain to any who see them together that they are still in love.
Brianna spotted her brother and welcomed him home. “You look different, Guy Thomas.”

“I'm older. I'm almost fifteen and I've fought in the raids that took back Welsh castles,” he said loftily.

“I mean your hair. What did you do to it?”

“I cut it.”

“So I see! Come, you can sit with me at dinner and tell me all about your adventures.”

“Sit with my sister, when I have a chance to sup with Wolf Mortimer? You must be jesting.” His eyes searched out his hero. Then he noticed the scowl on her face and tried to make amends. “Don't look so fierce, I'll ask him if you can join us.”

“I wouldn't dream of imposing myself,” she said sweetly. Brianna walked a direct path to where the de Bohun brothers were seated. They jumped to their feet immediately.

“John…Humphrey…could you possibly make room for me? Did you really take back all the castles in the Welsh Marches?”

T
hough Wolf Mortimer hardly glanced in Brianna de Beauchamp's direction throughout the meal, he was acutely aware of her. She focused all her attention on the Earl of Hereford's sons, whom he knew well. She listened attentively to John de Bohun, then conversed at length with Humphrey. She laughed with one brother and accepted wine from the other, completely captivating them and wrapping them around her elegant fingers.

Wolf's composure was not ruffled by the performance being played out before him. He knew it was prompted for his benefit and he was both flattered and amused. As the meal drew to a close, however, an errant thought insinuated itself in his mind and he could not rid himself of it. In a few short months, Brianna would be seventeen and Warwick would be receiving offers for her.
Four of my sisters were wed before they reached Brianna's age, and Katherine and Joan will likely be betrothed once they turn twelve.

Wolf knew of at least three men around his own age who would be eager for a match with the infamous Earl of Warwick's daughter. Two of them were before him now, vying for the beauty's attention. The third was the Earl of Surrey's son, Lincoln Robert, who most likely had the advantage. As well, there could be others that he hadn't even thought of. He made up his mind in an instant and followed his father as he left the hall and sought his chamber.

“Come in, Wolf.” Roger Mortimer turned his attention from the map he intended to study. “Have a seat if there is something you wish to discuss.”

Wolf took a chair and stretched his long legs before him. Roger poured both of them tankards of ale, then sat down to listen.

“Father, you made a good match for your sister, Catherine, when you wed her to Rickard de Beauchamp. Have you ever considered another match between Mortimer and Warwick?”

“I have. It's crossed my mind more than once. A second blood bond between our houses would be advantageous to both families. But your sister Katherine is not yet twelve and Guy Thomas is only fourteen. There's plenty of time, I warrant. Warwick's lad isn't his heir, so that puts him at a grave disadvantage, but young Kat is not the reigning beauty of the Mortimer litter so she may have to settle for a younger son.”

The unintentional barb pierced Wolf's protective carapace. He was well aware that he was at a grave disadvantage by not being Mortimer's heir. He swallowed his pride and gathered his courage. “I wasn't thinking of Warwick's son, I was thinking of his daughter, Brianna de Beauchamp.”

“Aye, a prize indeed. I could kick myself for betrothing Edmund to Lord Badlesmere's girl when my heir could have had Warwick's daughter.” Mortimer shrugged. “The betrothal's been formalized; there's naught I can do unless
you'd
like to seduce Badlesmere's wench and carry her off?”

He knew his father was only half jesting, and his pride was badly stung. “I'm a wolf, not a bloody sacrificial lamb,” he said coldly. “Good night, Father.”

Roger Mortimer stared after his namesake. He wasn't the least obtuse. What virile male, especially a hot-blooded Mortimer, would not be tempted by Brianna de Beauchamp? He saw the way Wolf looked at Warwick's daughter, the studied indifference that masked the hunger. Roger didn't want his favorite son to be disappointed by a refusal. There were many heirs to earldoms from which her parents could choose a husband, and not the least of these was Lynx de Warenne's son, who was now heir to the earldom of Surrey.
If you want something badly enough, Wolf Mortimer, you will find a way to get it.

 

Mortimer was working with Warwick at the castle forge. Each took pride in being able to shoe his own horse.

“Your lovely daughter Brianna will soon be seventeen. Is she spoken for?” Roger asked.

“You mean spoken for in marriage?” Warwick's brows drew together. “No, she is not yet formally betrothed.”

“Perhaps there is an understanding between the de Warenne family and your own?”

“There is nothing definite, but I warrant there is an unspoken understanding between Jory and Lynx to wait and see if the young couple develop a natural affinity for each other. I prefer to leave the matter to my wife. She has very strong feelings about betrothals. Jory is adamant that Brianna not be betrothed before she is seventeen and not marry until she is at least eighteen. Jory and I wanted to marry, but her family didn't tell her that I made an offer for her. Instead, they forced her to wed Humphrey de Bohun. Jory has vowed that such a fate will not befall Brianna.”

“Most of us have arranged marriages.”

“You needn't tell me. I had two before I found love and happiness. I am certain of one thing—Jory will never push our daughter into an arranged marriage, especially if Brianna has any qualms about the man.” He cleaned his horse's hoof with a rasp. “You've had more experience in these matters than I—you've married off at least four daughters, I believe.”

“I made good matches for them—I didn't consider their qualms,” Roger admitted. “Rather, I considered the castles their husbands would inherit. Not long ago I wed Margaret to Lord Berkley's heir and I have an understanding with Lord Audley to betroth his son to my daughter Joan when they are old enough. The next in line is Kat. I saw her eyeing your son Guy Thomas when we were at Wigmore Castle.”

“You have given me food for thought. It seems like only yesterday they were children. I am beginning to feel ancient.”

 

That night in bed, Warwick brought up the subject of their children's betrothals. “I'm not saying we should be in any hurry to get them married. But perhaps it is time we looked about us and made a list of prospective families for possible matches.”

“Brianna and Lincoln Robert seem perfectly suited to each other. I can foresee a betrothal there, perhaps when she turns seventeen, if we let nature take its course, darling.”

Warwick nodded. “He's a good man. Now that he is heir to the earldom of Surrey, perhaps we should formalize their betrothal, once Brianna turns seventeen. I cannot envision a better match for her than Lincoln Robert.”

“No. It would be an ideal match for both our families.”

“Mortimer hinted at Guy Thomas for his daughter Katherine.”

“Good heavens, our son is only interested in swords and armor and learning to become a warrior at the moment.”

“Aye, he's more interested in fighting than fucking, unlike his father.” He drew his hand up the length of her silken leg, and it wiped betrothals from his mind.

Jory, however, pondered the subject for the next few days. Just before the month was up, when the men would be taking their armies south, she brought up the subject with her daughter. They were in the castle's vast stillroom where Brianna was hanging up bunches of herbs to dry.

“In the not too far distant future, we shall have to start looking about us for a suitable husband.”

Brianna stared at her mother in disbelief. “You surely don't mean a husband for me? You have always drummed into me that I must be at least eighteen before I wed.”

“You'll soon be seventeen, darling, and we will no doubt be receiving offers for you.”

“You know as well as I do that I am going to marry Lincoln Robert someday. I wouldn't consider any other for my husband.”

“Well, that pleases me beyond measure. Your father thinks that since Lincoln is now heir to the earldom of Surrey, we should formalize your betrothal when you turn seventeen.”

Brianna suddenly realized how soon that would be, and something inside her rebelled.
I will go straight from the protection of my father to the protection of my husband.
“I will soon be seventeen years old, and every one of them has been sheltered!” Brianna declared passionately. “I've never been anywhere or seen anything. I don't want to go from being a child to being a wife with nothing in between. I want some independence like you had!”

“Like me?”

“Yes, you lived in Wales and then you lived in Scotland—places I've never even seen. When you were my age you left your family and went away to court to be a lady in waiting to a royal princess.”

“You were in Windsor with me at Queen Isabelle's Court.”

“Mother, I was there as your child, not as a lady in waiting.”

“So you think I have you tethered to me on a leading string!” Jory took a deep breath. “I went to Wales as a bride, an unwilling bride, married to a stranger. I went to Scotland as a widow. I want to protect you from making the foolish mistakes I made.”

Brianna was suddenly riven with guilt. Jory was the most loving mother in the entire world. “All I want is a small taste of freedom, a chance to make my own choices for a year. Then I shall be perfectly content to wed Lincoln Robert and become a devoted wife.”

Jory let out a relieved breath.
She takes it for granted that Lincoln Robert will be her husband. We have naught to worry about.

 

Wolf Mortimer paced the battlements of Warwick Castle deep in thought. Tomorrow they would ride south and tonight was his last chance to communicate with Brianna de Beauchamp. Though he had seen her every day, they had never been alone together since that afternoon in the river. It seemed as if the de Bohun brothers stalked her and she did nothing to discourage their company. If she went to the mews, the falconer was with her; if she rode out from the castle, a groom attended her; if she visited the garden, her mother's ladies were ever present.

Wolf placed his hands on the crenellated wall and gazed up at the stars in the night-black sky. He had never explored the full depth of his powers and did not know all the capabilities they encompassed, or their limitations. He had always refrained from using them on a whim. Until tonight.

He focused all his concentration on Brianna. His mind's eye saw her clearly. She was asleep in her bed and she was dreaming. Gradually, he took control of her dream and spun a new story for her to explore. Once more she was indulging in a game of chance. As she won each throw of the dice, her confidence grew and she risked higher stakes.

The moment she became reckless, she lost. She refused to pay her debt and instead, she woke up. She sat up in bed and threw back the covers, slightly disoriented.
Was I gambling in the hall before I came to bed, or was it just a dream?
Brianna was unsure because the details were so vivid.

She reached for her bed robe and put it on over her night rail. The room seemed to trap her. She had an urge to get some fresh air and then the need to escape became compelling. She felt a strong desire to go up on the castle battlements. She longed to see the stars and feel the warm night air on her face. Brianna had never before experienced such a yearning. Until tonight.

She moved silently, determined to disturb no one as she ascended the tower stairs that led to the ramparts. She stepped out and moved slowly along the crenellated wall. She stopped to gaze up at the stars and sensed that another was there in the darkness. Strangely, she was not surprised. Somehow, she had known all along that she would not be alone. She sensed the presence was overtly male and though she tried to deny it, she knew his identity.

Brianna wanted to turn and run. If she did not withdraw now, perhaps escape would be impossible. Yet because retreat was not in her nature, she hesitated.

“You have come to pay your debt in private.”

“What debt could I possibly owe you, Wolf Mortimer?”

“A gambling debt.”

“I didn't gamble tonight.”

“Are you suggesting that I dreamt it, mistress?”

Her pulses quickened.
We could not have had the same dream.
“I won every roll of the dice!”

“Until the last throw. Then you lost and refused to pay your wager.”

She tossed back her hair. “I misremember the wager.”

“That is a lie.” Wolf emerged from the darkness and stepped close. “You remember it as clearly as I do.”

She looked up into his compelling gray eyes and could not deny it. “Then take your damn kiss and be done!”

Wolf held her gaze. “I could have
taken
a kiss, or whatever else I desired, any time I wanted. Our wager was that you
give
me a kiss. It must be a gift of your own free will.”

She raised a defiant chin. “I…cannot.”

“Ah, I see your problem. You don't know how. You have never kissed a man. Until tonight.”

“Of course I have.”
Lincoln Robert has kissed me…but not on the lips.
She saw him smile knowingly as if he read her thought.

“I clearly see your dilemma. You are not averse to giving the kiss, providing it is the most memorable kiss I have ever received, and how can you be sure if you've never done it before?”

Brianna wondered briefly if she was still dreaming. She deliberately touched the crenellated stone and found it rough beneath her fingertips.
This is no dream.