Free Knight of Passion by Margaret Mallory Page B

raised to believe that a knight must always show respect to ladies.”
    Jamie blew out his breath. His young squire must have seen Linnet slap him yesterday. ’Twas no playful slap either.
    “Is it your custom, sir, to offend ladies?” Martin asked. “For if it is, I shall have to seek my knightly training elsewhere.”
    As if Linnet’s presence was not torture enough, now he was saddled with young Galahad here. Surely God was punishing him.
    “As far as I know, Lady Linnet is the only woman in whom I inspire violence.” Though Jamie was not yet twenty-four, this young
     squire made him feel a hundred.
    “I hope you did not give her good cause to strike you,” Martin said, his voice stiff with reproach.
    The saints preserve him, Martin sounded ready to pull his sword. Oddly, it both amused and cheered Jamie to see such chivalry
     in his young squire.
    “Things are not that… simple… between this particular lady and me,” Jamie said, his eyes on Linnet again.
    They rode in blessed silence for a time before Martin spoke again.
    “Sir?”
    This time, Jamie turned to find Martin gaping at him, his eyes wide and blinking, as if he had entered a brightly lit room
     from the dark.
    “Are you saying, sir, that you are in love with her?”

Chapter Eight
    J amie was throwing dice with the guards in the gatehouse to relieve his boredom—and to avoid running into Linnet. Through the
     arrow-slit window, he could hear the splash of drops hitting the puddles on the ground below. The rain was finally easing
     up after a week of downpour.
    He should have kept his cock in his braies. Each time he saw Linnet, he remembered the smell of her skin, the feel of her
     hair sliding through his fingers…
    The man next to him elbowed him in the ribs. “Take your turn.”
    Jamie threw the dice and lost again.
    Windsor Castle was enormous. All the same, he crossed paths with Linnet at every turn—at dinner in the hall, walking across
     the upper ward, passing on the stairs. He was always edgy from seeing her—or anticipating that he might. This near-constant
     state of arousal could not be good for a man’s health.
    The guards shouted over someone’s lucky roll. Without looking to see who it was, Jamie tossed another penny on the table.
    He liked the way she rode her horse, fearless at afull gallop. He enjoyed the clever things she said at dinner—and that flash in her eyes when she teased him.
    “Are you playing, Rayburn?”
    He took the dice thrust in his face. As he rubbed the worn dice bones between his thumb and fingers, he thought of the smoothness
     of Linnet’s skin.
    How he was going to survive weeks in the same castle without falling into bed with her again, he did not know. He could only
     pray Bedford would take a fast ship from France and relieve him of his duties here.
    His squire appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Speaking in a low voice so as not to interrupt the game, Martin
     said, “Sir James, a man has come to the castle asking for you.”
    “Keep my money,” Jamie told the guards as he got up. “You’d win it anyway.”
    Martin trailed behind him down the circular stone stairs.
    “He says he is a friend of yours,” Martin said.
    The lad sounded skeptical. As soon as Jamie stepped out onto the muddy ground outside the gate, he understood why.
    He roared with laughter. “Owen Tudor, is that you beneath all that mud?”
    “You know damned well it is,” Owen said, his even white teeth making a bright line in his dirt-streaked face.
    Jamie’s hand made a wet smacking sound when he slapped his friend on the back. As he shook the mud off it, he said, “Did you
     have a good night’s sleep with the pigs?”
    “My horse stepped into a hole in the downpour. Next thing I knew, I was sitting on my arse in a puddle afoot deep.” Owen wiped his face with his sleeve, which relieved his sleeve of more mud than his face. “ ’Tis lucky I didn’t
     break my neck.”
    “You’ve come to see