Chapter 15

"Jory, you look ghastly!" After a warm embrace, Joanna held her at arm's length. "Whatever has happened to you?"

"My mourning for Humphrey took its toll. It took a long time to work through my grief and my guilt. When the de Bohuns returned, I thought I was recovered, but the truth was that I was still in a half trance, sleepwalking through the days and nights."

"You have absolutely nothing to be guilty about. You were a most devoted wife. I'll awaken you from your trance in no time."

"My sleepwalking is over, Joanna. I've had a rude awakening. John de Bohun wants me to marry Henry!"

"Are you being serious?"

"The Earl of Hereford is certainly serious. Henry is his new heir and he has signed Midhurst over to him for his firstborn son. The constable still wants me for his daughter-in-law. I am still to have Midhurst and still give him a grandchild. Everything is to be the same except I am to substitute Henry for Humphrey."

"You were right to escape the madhouse," Joanna declared.

"I have sometimes feared for my sanity this past year."

"All that is about to change. You need fun and games and laughter and, by the looks of you, a brand-new wardrobe. We shall have a lark burning these hideous widow's weeds. Father is on his way to Gloucester and the barons and nobles within a hundred miles will flock here to him. It will be a perfect opportunity to practice your feminine wiles and beguile them with your wit, charm, and exquisite beauty. Jory, you are about to learn that a woman is at her peak of attraction and power when she is a widow."

When Eleanor de Leyburn, Maude Clifford, and Blanche Bedford welcomed her back into the fold it felt like old times, and Jory's wan demeanor soon vanished and was replaced by a natural vitality. Her new clothes brought back the confidence she had lost.

When King Edward arrived with his entourage, Joanna's ladies were all atwitter, but it was Jory who received the lion's share of attention from the courtiers and she became adroit at luring them while at the same time keeping them from crossing the line in their games of dalliance.

"You have the earls of Tewksbury, Lincoln, Derby, Percy, Stanley, and Clifford along with their sons and nephews to choose from," Joanna told Jory. "All are wealthy and powerful and ready to worship at your shrine. You need a lover."

"I quite agree." Though Jory had been transformed on the outside, the empty longing on the inside needed to be assuaged. "I haven't yet found the man who takes my fancy."

"I have," Joanna confided, as her gaze lingered on Gilbert de Clare's first lieutenant. "He has the body of a young warrior. Look at those rippling muscles; they make me feel quite faint."

"I suppose there's no harm in looking, so long as you don't touch," Jory warned.

"Ralph Monthermer is too damned noble to even acknowledge the invitation in my eyes. He has pledged his loyalty to Gilbert and nothing will induce him to break it. Believe me, I've tried."

Jory laughed. "You are behaving outrageously right under the nose of your husband and your father."

"They are so engrossed in their plans for this full-scale war with France, they wouldn't know if I dined naked. Just listen."

"I want every earl and baron to spend the winter recruiting. By spring I expect to be able to muster five thousand horse and thirty thousand foot soldiers. The de Warennes will recruit and train men from Suffolk, Essex, Surrey, Kent, and Sussex," King Edward declared. "Guy de Beauchamp will be responsible for Warwickshire, Leicester, Northampton, and Cambridge."

"I'll recruit from Gloucester to Hertford, though I already command more men-at-arms than any other," Gilbert added.

"I want you and your forces to remain in England. You're the only one I trust to keep the country safe. Train any new men you recruit for France with the longbow," Edward advised. "French archers still use those inferior crossbows."

"De Bohun and his son will go to France, but what about Bigod? Will the Earl of Norfolk refuse again?" Gilbert wondered.

"I have Bigod by the short hairs this time. His daughter died and left him without an heir. If he doesn't want his castles to revert to the Crown, the marshal will ready his men for France."

Jory shuddered. Poor Sylvia is a pawn even in death.

Her patience at an end, Joanna threw down her serviette and stood up. "My ladies and I will retire, I warrant."

Gilbert protested. "No, no, my dear Joanna. You must have the hall for your dancing. Call in your musicians. His Majesty and I will repair to the war room."

The older earls and barons followed the king. The younger men, save one, remained in the Great Hall. Joanna sighed loudly when Ralph Monthermer arose and followed Gilbert de Clare.

The winter months were mild and when the Yule season arrived Jory, Joanna, and her ladies took great delight in gathering holly, ivy, and mistletoe from the woods to decorate the castle. Little Margaret was the center of attention. Her happy laughter was a joy to hear as they taught her songs, dances, and festive games.

A week before Christmas, after a long day of instructing recruits in the use of the longbow, Gilbert de Clare lifted his little daughter for her ritual good night kiss. The moment he set her feet back to the carpet, he grabbed his right arm and the excruciating pain drove him to his knees.

Joanna ordered him to bed and sat with him for two days to make sure he stayed there. Gilbert was a good-natured patient who seemed to recover from his bout. On the third day he grinned at his wife. "I refuse to stay abed unless you go and rest. Ask Marjory to come and sit with me for a while."

Jory took Joanna's place and sat down beside the bed. "My lord, I hope the pain has left your arm."

Gilbert smiled ruefully. "It's not my arm, Jory. It's my heart—it is worn out. I know I won't recover this time." He saw her eyes widen. "Don't be upset. I need you to be strong for Joanna. I would like to confide in you, if I may?"

Jory gathered her composure and nodded.

"Joanna is young and she will marry again. Margaret is my heiress and will get my landholdings, but since we have no son, Joanna's next husband will inherit my title, Earl of Gloucester. Every self-serving noble in England will seek after the king's daughter and the avaricious bastards named de Clare will lead the pack. I don't want Joanna to be a pawn; I want her to be happy."

Jory knew there was more and leaned forward.

"I have chosen her next husband. Ralph Monthermer is the only man worthy enough to rule Gloucester. He's been my right hand for years and knows how to lead men. He has sworn an oath to me that he will look after Joanna always." Gilbert grit his teeth until the gripping pain in his chest subsided. "You must not tell her that Ralph Monthermer is my choice. She must think he is her choice. On our wedding night I vowed that she could choose her next husband and rule her own destiny."

"I am Joanna's friend. You must know, my dearest lord, that I will do all I can to ensure her happiness."

Gilbert de Clare died shortly after Christmas and everyone in the realm mourned his passing. The funeral was attended by a score of nobles, including the de Bohuns. The constable paid his condolences to the widow and took Marjory aside.

"My dear child, I am overjoyed to see that you have regained your strength and vitality. But your presence at Goodrich has been sorely missed. I have come to escort you home."

"My lord earl, I am Joanna's best friend. In all conscience I cannot desert her now. She would be devastated. Perhaps I will be free to return sometime in the new year."

Early in the new year, Joanna felt the first stirrings of love. Ralph Monthermer had been like a solid rock when the aging Earl of Gloucester died. He took care of all the burial details, and not only did the men-at-arms look to him as their natural leader, he conducted the castle business with competence and saw to it that the household continued to run smoothly.

Joanna's gratitude soon turned into something deeper, and though Ralph kept a respectful distance between them and conducted himself with reserve, she saw the yearning in his eyes in unguarded moments. She recruited Marjory to act as go-between and the couple's relationship began to change, at least in private.

Jory became caught up in the delicious intrigue of secret messages and private meetings. Joanna shared her thoughts and feelings with her dearest friend and coconspirator.

"Jory, I am in love! For the first time in my life, I am head over heels in love. I live for the stolen moments we share. When I see him, my pulses race. When I hear his voice, my heart melts. If he as much as touches my hand, I shiver and tremble. Yet the cruel devil refuses to become my lover!"

"He is protecting your reputation, Joanna. That is gallant of him. You are ready for a romantic interlude, but Ralph is thinking of your future."

"Ralph is my future. I want him to live with me and love me."

"That could only be possible if you were married. If you do not marry quickly, the king will find you another husband."

"Dear God, I hadn't thought of that. The king is all-powerful. I would have no choice but to obey him. What will I do, Jory?"

"Put your case before Ralph. Explain to him that you must wed secretly. Through this marriage he will become possessed in his own right of the earldoms of Gloucester and Hertford. It is a perfect solution. Once it's a fait accompli, all will accept it."

"You don't know my father!"

"He's a man. You were the one who taught me there isn't a male breathing who cannot be manipulated."

"Here comes Margaret. She adores Ralph as much as I do."

Jory embraced the little girl and kissed her freckled nose. Margaret had the exact same coloring as Jory's late husband and suddenly her curiosity got the better of her and she threw discretion to the wind. "Was it Humphrey you lay with before you wed Gilbert?"

"No!" Joanna denied quickly. Then she flushed guiltily and confessed, "It was Henry."

Jory didn't know if Joanna was lying to protect her feelings, but suddenly it didn't matter. Margaret was a beautiful child who was loved and adored no matter her sire. Jory began to laugh. "Joanna, you are absolutely outrageous!"

"Of course I'm outrageous—I am a Plantagenet!"

"Then do it! Take charge of your own destiny and secretly wed Ralph Monthermer."

On a beautiful spring night in late March after most occupants of the castle had retired, Marjory, acting as decoy, met Ralph for a midnight stroll through the gardens. When they slipped into the chapel, a heavily veiled Joanna was already at the altar with the priest. They exchanged their holy nuptial vows quickly yet solemnly. They signed their names in the church register and then the priest and Lady Marjory signed as legal witnesses.

Hand in hand, Jory and Ralph left the chapel and made their way to her bedchamber. They were fairly sure that none saw them, but if anyone had observed the couple, it would be Jory's name that would be bandied about—Jory who had indulged in dalliance.

An hour later, Guy de Beauchamp made an appearance in Jory's dream. "Don't you dare come near me, Warwick! Thoughts of tonight's romantic wedding have conjured you and you are nothing more than a figment of my imagination."

"If you are just imagining me, why do you fear my nearness? It is your dream; you can control every element, including me."

"Liar! You always take control. They call you the Wolfhound because you are a notorious womanizer and a lecherous swine. Once I let you make love to me, I will never see you again."

His dark eyes licked over her like a flame. "Tell me to leave and I will. It's your dream, Jory." He held out his hand with his fingers closed.

She had an insatiable curiosity to know what small treasure it held. She felt her determination waver and lifted her chin. "I shall allow you one kiss only. I've quite made up my mind!"

In the morning when Jory awoke she found a white rosebud on her pillow. She refused to let her imagination take flight. It must have come from Joanna's bouquet.

It was inevitable that Joanna's ladies learned of the secret marriage within the first two weeks. The princess was radiant, her glance languid, her words soft and gentle, her smile sweet, and her sighs blissful. Joanna walked on a cloud and it was obvious that she had fallen in love.

Their idyll was shattered when Ralph's first lieutenant came to him with the news that the de Clares had learned of his clandestine nuptial vows and had sent a messenger hotfoot to the king demanding that the marriage be declared null and void.

"I'll ride to Newcastle," Ralph declared, "and put my case before your father. Surely the king will listen to reason."

His words threw Joanna into a panic. "Dear God, Father is not a reasonable man. He will have you arrested and order our marriage set aside. Then he'll be off to France to fight a bloody war that could last for years. I must get a message to him before he leaves England."

"Joanna, write him a letter that will tug on his heartstrings and I will take it to him and plead your cause," Jory suggested.

"But he is in Newcastle, gathering his invasion forces."

"I'm ready for an adventure. What better place to find it than Newcastle, where every earl and baron in England will be gathered? John de Bohun will take his men-at-arms to join the king. I'll ask him to give me safe escort. He will be eager for my company."

As Jory rode through the Midlands and then the Northern shires, she knew there was no more beautiful country than England. The meadows were blanketed by the wildflowers of April and the hills were dotted with newborn lambs. Jory was in her glory in the vast company of warriors all overeager to do her bidding and see to her safety and comfort. They paid such homage to her beauty, they appeared ready to barter their souls for one of her smiles.

The northern air was crystal clear, like fine wine, and Jory drank it in, feeling as if she could breathe deeply for the first time in years. Excitement bubbled inside her. She had just witnessed two people fall hopelessly in love and she had become caught up in the breathless romance of it all. Jory was ripe for a love affair of her own and the thought of the adventure that lay ahead filled her with giddy anticipation.

Jory threw back her crimson hood and swept into Newcastle's Great Hall. She immediately spotted Lynx and knew she would have to diffuse his anger that she had dared to come.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Lynx demanded with a frown.

"The de Bohuns brought me. I have an urgent letter from Joanna for King Edward. 'Tis a delicate matter she has entrusted to me."

"Newcastle is bursting at the seams. My men are camped outside the walls. You may come to my room while you explain yourself."

Jory stood warming her legs before his fire as she told him about the secret marriage of Joanna and Ralph Monthermer.

"Christ Almighty, you actually intend to tell Edward Plantagenet that his daughter has married a bloody squire?"

Jory raised her chin in defiance. "Ralph Monthermer is no less than the Earl of Gloucester and Hertford."

"Bones of Christ!" Lynx suddenly realized the consequences of the secret marriage. "The king will be incensed. You are a pair of willful little bitches! I forbid that you seek him tonight. Edward is in a towering rage over the Scottish situation."

"I thought the army was gathering to invade France."

"King Baliol of Scotland was ordered to bring his army. He has refused. He also has dismissed all English office holders and confiscated all lands and castles held by Englishmen. Is it any wonder the king is in a mad rage?"

The look of defeat on Jory's face and the mauve shadows beneath her lovely eyes had their effect. "You may have my chamber. I'll have my squire bring you a tray, then you must get some rest."

Jory slept until noon the following day and awoke refreshed. Anticipating an audience with the king, she bathed and took special care with her appearance. She donned a pale green gown that matched her eyes and wore a cabochon emerald that swung in the valley between her upthrust breasts. She slipped a gold chain around her waist decorated by another emerald that rested in blatant invitation upon her mons. She brushed her silver-gilt hair until it formed a cloud about her shoulders.

Her afternoon was spent in frustration when Lynx's squire informed her that the king was closeted with his generals. It was early evening before John de Warenne emerged with Lynx.

John looked down at her with appreciation. "Hello, Minx, your beauty grows lovelier each time we meet."

"Don't indulge her, John. She is embroiled in deep trouble."

"All I did was bring a letter from Joanna to the king."

"You shouldn't be here," John admonished. "There is trouble in Scotland. We are taking the army there tomorrow."

"Then after I speak to the king, you can give me safe escort to Carlisle. I shall go to visit my godmother, Marjory de Bruce."

"No!" Lynx growled. "Carlisle Castle will be overrun with the Earl of Ulster's Irishmen any day now—no fit place for a lady."

"Then I shall go to our de Warenne castle of Wigton." Jory smiled triumphantly. Wigton was only eight miles from Carlisle, where the Bruces were governors.

"Good." Lynx hid a smile. "You will be company for Alicia. I will save a place for you in the hall tonight for dinner."

An hour later, when Marjory entered the Great Hall she held the attention of every male eye. As she passed down the rows of barons and earls, she had a radiant smile for each of them and sweetly declined when they offered to make room for her.

She glanced at the king's carved chair on the dais and was disappointed to find it empty. Lynx was there however, and he sent his squire to get her. As she climbed the steps she saw that Lynx was talking with another man, who had his back to her.

Jory stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened and her pulse began to race. Warwick! Her eyes lingered on the long, coal-black hair; then her glance swept over the impossibly wide shoulders and the ramrod-straight back. She clutched the squire's arm, fearing she might faint from being in close proximity to the powerful devil who had the ability to steal her senses.

The man turned to look at her and she felt her heart sink as she realized it was not Warwick. She recovered quickly; the young, darkly handsome male piqued her curiosity. His eyes glittered with interest, but it was not until he grinned that she recognized him. "Robert Bruce! I haven't seen you in years."

"Even at seventeen you played hell with the hearts of all the Bruce brothers, including mine." His hot glance licked over her.

"You were a wild devil who teased me unmercifully." She was openly flirting with him and felt the sparks ignite between them. He was no longer a youth, but a powerful Scots earl whose attraction was almost magnetic.

Lynx purposely sat between them. "I'm sorry you did not get to see the king, Jory. He has declared war on Scotland. He and the entire army will leave at dawn."

Her glance met Robert's. "For whom do you fight, my lord?"

"Robert Bruce fights for himself," he admitted frankly.

"He stands with us," Lynx interjected. "He governs Carlisle Castle and will keep it secure for King Edward."

"I return there now, but when the fighting starts I'll be over that Border to take back my Annandale lands and castles that Baliol confiscated and gave to my enemy Comyn."

The corners of Jory's mouth lifted. "Since you go to Carlisle, could I persuade you to give me safe escort to Wigton Castle? My family has banished me there and I'm in sore need of protection."

"I warrant you could persuade me to anything, Jory." His dark eyes smoldered at the thought of assuaging her sore needs.

"Have a care. She is a willful little filly who will take the bit between her teeth at the first opportunity," Lynx warned.

"I'll handle her reins with a firm hand," Bruce promised.

Marjory's imagination went wild at the thought.

Jory paced her chamber waiting for the hour of midnight. This would be her only chance to seek out King Edward and beg him to view his daughter's marriage in a favorable light. Her pulse raced at the temerity it would take to enter his bedchamber and try to bend Edward Plantagenet to her will. If I think of him as a king, I will be lost. I must treat him as a man, and beguile him with my femininity, soft words, and sweet smiles.

Jory slipped Joanna's letter into her bodice; then she rubbed perfumed oil in the cleft between her breasts and positioned the cabochon emerald so that it would draw his eye to her bared cleavage. She brushed her hair until it shone like silk and covered it with a transparent veil.

Jory picked up a small silver dish of sweetmeats and ascended to the high tower where the king slept. The guard on the door proved no match for her. "I am expected," she murmured softly. "His Majesty has a taste for something sweet when he retires."

"I received no orders to admit a wench."

"He told me how vigilant you are…and how discreet. Here, let me give you a taste of what he likes." She picked up an almond flavored sweet-meat and lifted it to his mouth. At the same time the tip of her tongue traced her lips. While his focus was distracted she opened the oaken door and slipped inside.

Edward Plantagenet turned his leonine head toward the intruder. "Who is it? What do you want?" he demanded.

She advanced into the chamber. "Your Majesty, it is Marjory de Warenne. I bring you a letter from Princess Joanna."

At mention of his daughter's name, he glared at her angrily. "I've ordered this Monthermer thrown in irons! The swine has taken gross advantage. Gilbert de Clare has been dishonored and his family is outraged! The marriage will be set aside."

Jory went down before him in supplication and let the veil slide from her hair. "Sire, Joanna begs your forgiveness. She wants you to know the truth before others poison your thoughts." She raised her lashes and saw that his eyes lingered on her breasts, then lifted to gaze at her hair. She saw his resolve waver and pressed her advantage. "Gilbert de Clare took me into his confidence when he knew he would not recover. Ralph Monthermer was his choice to succeed to the Earldom of Gloucester. He was his most valiant warrior who led the fighting men to victory in battle after battle. Gilbert trusted Ralph with his life and made him swear an oath to look after Joanna always."

As Jory reached into her bodice and took out the letter, she saw that the king's eyes followed her fingers. "Joanna is deeply in love with Ralph Monthermer. He reminds her of you, Sire. All those he commands hold him in the highest respect." She handed him the letter. "Her greatest wish is that you give Monthermer a chance to show you his mettle and his loyalty."

Edward reached out and raised her from her knees. Then he opened the parchment and read his daughter's words.

The moment he finished reading, Jory said fervently, "Tomorrow you go to war, Sire. Do not go into battle without forgiving her. Your love is so precious to Joanna."

"Your loyalty to my daughter is commendable. I shall send for this Ralph Monthermer and judge his worth for myself."

Jory dipped her knee and lowered her lashes to mask the triumph she felt. "Thank you, sire." She knew she had tipped the scales in her friend's favor and truly believed that Edward Plantagenet would now accept Joanna's marriage.

As she readied herself for bed she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She caught herself humming a merry tune and was amazed at how lighthearted she felt. The corners of her mouth lifted. Her encounter with Edward Plantagenet was behind her, but she knew very well there was another underlying cause for her mood to soar.

"Robert Bruce." She whispered his name. Jory was ready for more than a flirtation. She was ready for a full-blown romance.