“Why have you brought this girl here?” the unfamiliar female voice asked Jamie.
Emilia stopped before going through the door and listened.
“She’s my dear friend and needed my help after her father died,” Jamie replied with a firm yet gentle tone.
Who was he speaking with? Carefully, Emilia peeked around the doorframe and saw an older woman. She looked familiar, but Emilia couldn’t place her.
“Forgive me, Jamie, but shouldn’t you be grieving the loss of your wife—my daughter—a bit longer?”
“It’s been over a year, Claire. I’ve grieved enough.”
“What do you intend to do with this English girl?”
Jamie faced the woman. Anger filled his eyes. “None of your business.”
The woman groaned and stormed out of the kitchen. Emilia covered her mouth, hiding her curved lips. Jamie had defended her unlike any other man besides her father and brother. Emilia cleared her throat and stepped around the corner, pretending she hadn’t overheard Jamie’s conversation. She put the basket of clothes on the kitchen table and folded them.
“Good morning,” she said, looking at Jamie from the corner of her eye.
“Good morning.” He kissed her cheek, but anger remained in his voice.
She didn’t care for him to be in a foul mood. Taking a step closer, she asked, “Is everything all right?”
He raked a hand through his newly-shortened hair and nodded. “A small matter I need to settle soon, once and for all.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
Jamie kissed her brow. “No, love.”
“Want to help me fold the clothes? It always helps me clear my thoughts.”
“If you don’t mind, I need some air.”
Her heart sank a bit. “I don’t mind at all.” She stepped back and returned to the table.
“I’ll see you for dinner.”
She nodded, holding back the sadness twisting inside.
A moment later, Nance came into the room, singing.
Emilia turned her head, not wanting Nance to see her eyes. But it was too late. Her friend lifted her chin. “What’s the matter, dear? Has someone harmed you, child?”
Emilia shook her head.
Nance drew Emilia in her arms. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“She was here.”
“Who?”
“Jamie’s mother-in-law,” she replied, holding back a sob.
Nance braced Emilia’s face between her hands. “Did she talk with you?”
“No. She came to see Jamie. She’s not happy I’m here.”
“Bah! Don’t mind that old hag.” Nance wrapped her arms around her again. “She has nothing to say about anything concerning Jamie’s affairs and who he invites to his home. I’ll have a word with her.”
“No, Nance. Please don’t. They have no idea I overheard them.”
“All right, dear. Don’t you worry about Jamie either. He’ll take care of matters. He’ll protect you.”
Emilia swiped away a tear gliding down her cheek. “I feel silly.”
“Don’t you dare. Your feelings for Jamie are genuine. You love him. I can see that.”
Confidence laced Nance’s words. Emilia wished for the same sense of security. Maybe she should give up the dream of being Jamie’s wife. She wished to hear from his lips how much he loved her and wanted to be with her. Except for that time he’d said the words in French, he’d never said them again. She let out a low groan as she moved outside to tend the roses in the garden. Jamie haunted her thoughts every waking hour. No matter how much she tried to push him out, he nestled there in a corner, never wanting to leave.
Her brief plan to hold him at bay was lost, because she saw him every day. Since they’d arrived in France a week before, they had only made love once near the lake, but he stole a kiss from her every chance he could. Sometimes, he would come to her bedchamber at night and hold her until she slept. She wished for more of his kisses, more of his caresses.
She brushed away the romantic notion. Love wasn’t for her—not with Jamie. Swiping away a tear from her cheek, Emilia decided friendship with him was best, nothing more. She wasn’t going to fight for a man who still loved his dead wife.
“So you’re the little twit who thinks she will take my daughter’s place in Jamie’s heart and home.”
Emilia recognized the French accent in the woman’s voice. She straightened her shoulders and stood. Stay calm. She faced the older woman.
“I have stolen no one’s heart,” Emilia said, keeping her voice even.
The woman chuckled. “Ha! I can see the way he looks at you. Do you think me a fool?”
“No, madame.”
“Then leave here so Jamie can properly grieve for his wife.”
“That is not for you to decide.”
“We shall see about that,” the woman said before walking away.
Emilia let out a low groan, swatting at a branch.
“What did that old hag tell you? Is she the one who has gotten you upset?” Jamie asked as he walked up behind her.
She turned and punched his arm. “You tell your mother-in-law to mind her own business. If she thinks she can tell me what to do, she has another thing coming.”
He blew out a breath. “What has she told you?”
“She told me to leave you alone and leave here.”
“She what?”
“You heard me.”
He took her hands between his. “I will speak with her. You have my word.”
“Thank you.”
Jamie drew Emilia in his arms. She let him hold her, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the hardness of his chest. She wished to stay in his arms forever. Before she lost her heart to an unrealizable dream, she pulled away.
“I must return to my chores,” she said, without looking at him.
* * * *
Raking a hand through his hair, Jamie had no idea how he would deal with his mother-in-law’s meddling ways. He watched Emilia tend his mother’s flower garden as if she had done so forever. In the days since their arrival, she had met with the people in town and helped make his house a true home. She had her place with him here. Claire would not take her away from him. Over my dead body. He was going to have a serious talk with the old hag, and anyone else who had a problem with Emilia’s presence in his house.
When he’d decided to bring her with him, he had never imagined anyone objecting, not that he cared about anyone’s opinion. He wanted Emilia at his side for as long as she desired, and would see to it that no one made her feel uncomfortable. For now, he’d let the dust settle, until he decided what to say to his dead wife’s mother, though he suspected there was no use talking with a stubborn old woman. He had learned that lesson when he’d met her over ten years ago.
“Anything wrong, Jamie?” Thomas asked, walking up to him.
Jamie regarded his friend. “Marie’s mother is giving her unwanted opinions again.”
“About what this time?”
“Emilia.”
Thomas groaned. “What has she done?”
“She says I have not mourned long enough. I must deal with this, I know.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “But first, we need to reach market before midday, or we’ll lose our chance to buy the best livestock.”
They walked to the stables, saddled their horses, and headed down the dirt path. Jamie thanked God for the warm air and clear blue sky. He hoped the ride into town would keep his thoughts away from the inevitable confrontation with his mother-in-law. He hated dealing with such matters, preferring peace and quiet. Shaking his head, he pushed back the uneasy feeling. He didn’t want to lose Emilia because of this whole mess with Claire.
A hair-raising screech behind him made Jamie turn his horse. He hurried down the path with Thomas in tow, and rushed toward the house. What the devil could be amiss? The fury in the woman’s voice told him something terrible had happened. He passed the gates and jumped from his horse at the front door to get his bearings. The closer he got, the more he heard what was happening. He followed the noise and rushed into the parlor. Despite her small stature, Emilia didn’t let his mother-in-law intimidate her. Jamie stopped at the doorway and surveyed the scene.
Emilia stood in front of the window. Claire advanced like a predator ready to attack a small deer.
“You are not welcomed here. Why can’t you understand that, you silly English girl?” Claire yelled. “No one wants you here.”
Jamie interrupted, rushing to stand beside Emilia. “What right have you to speak for everyone?” He took Emilia’s hand and added, “You’re the one who is not welcomed here. If you have nothing nice to say, I suggest you go home now.”
The woman stared at him, shock making her speechless.
“Well, speak your mind or leave here at once and never return.”
“She is trying to take my daughter’s place in this house.” Claire made a sweeping gesture with her hands. “My Marie was supposed to be mistress of this manor, not this girl.”
Emilia stepped forward, but Jamie pulled her back.
“Your daughter, my wife, is no longer of this world, Claire, and no one has replaced her. Emilia is my guest and my dear friend. I decide who stays here in my home. Not you.”
The woman stood back and regarded Emilia with disdain. She huffed and turned on her heels without saying another word.
Jamie told Emilia, “Don’t let this disturb you. My mother-in-law doesn’t always think before speaking.” He brought her fingers to his lips.
“I need some air,” she said, pulling her fingers away.
He watched her walk out of the parlor and let out a low groan. He had no choice. He must remove Claire from his life, and from his house, or risk losing Emilia forever.
* * * *
Emilia sat on the soft grass lining the stream. She listened to the calming sounds around her and let them replace the rage within her. She was alone with her jumbling thoughts. What had she done to deserve horrible words from Jamie’s mother-in-law? She let out a deep breath and then another. Regret gnawed at her. Maybe she shouldn’t have come to France. She should have listened to her first instincts and returned home.
She shook her head. Frustration and confusion clouded her mind. She couldn’t understand why Jamie didn’t demand Claire never return to his house. He never said his grief for his dead wife had ended, and he’d called her no more than a friend. How could I be such a fool to think Jamie’s touch and his kisses meant something more than convenience to him? She was only a substitute for his needs.
She drew her knees against her chest and leaned her head on her folded arms. “Please tell me what to do, Mama,” she whispered in the warm breeze.
Behind her closed eyes, Jamie’s handsome face appeared. A fantasy of his lips upon hers, his arms surrounding her, made her heart thump faster. For a brief moment, she swore seeing more than desire in his eyes. All in her head, she reasoned. At least in her dreams, Jamie’s heart linked to hers.
“What the devil are you doing here alone?” Jamie’s familiar voice called.
Emilia froze. She looked up and saw Jamie staring at her with concern. With as much dignity as she could muster, she rose and straightened her skirts.
Light filtering from the surrounding trees softened the hard lines on Jamie’s cheeks. His opened shirt revealed the hard planes of his chest. Her fingers itched to touch his skin. Her breath quickened. Her cheeks warmed. She silenced at once the growing desire building. He didn’t love her no matter how his kisses and touch made her feel.
“You haven’t answered my question, love,” he said.
She rubbed her arms.
“If you are worried about Claire, I will deal with her. Now tell me why you are here alone?” He took a step closer, stopping inches away.
“I needed some time to think.” She stepped aside, not wanting to feel his closeness and the heat of his breath. “So much has happened since I left home. I needed to make sense of it all.”
“I see. Do you regret coming here with me?”
She shook her head. “No, I love being here.” The words passed her lips before she could weigh her answer. “It’s Claire. She is making my stay here difficult.”
“I know, and I’m so very sorry.”
Emilia touched his strong chin. “I trust you will talk with her until she understands.”
“I will. I brought you some wild cherries. Care for some?” He gave her the small wicker basket. “I will leave you alone then.”
“No. Please stay.” She gently took his hand.
“Are you certain?”
“Sit with me, please.”
Jamie sat beside her on the grass.
“Tell me how you ended up doing King Henry’s bidding?”
“’Tis a long story,” he replied, popping a cherry in his mouth.
“I have time.”
He lay on the grass and stared at an invisible spot in the clear sky above. “King Henry and his party rode into town one day after visiting King Francis.” He paused, his gaze telling her he had returned to that moment in time. “The king claimed he fell for the town’s charm and people while in truth it was my new bride.”
“Your bride? But how did they meet?”
“Henry paid us a visit at the manor. It was an honor to have his company. Marie was giddy. She invited him to stay with us for a few days, and he invited us to Whitehall Palace as a gesture of thanks, or so he said. I was a fool not to see his true intentions.”
“Is that where your wife died?”
He nodded.
“What happened?” Emilia wanted to know.
“Marie fell for his royal charms,” he replied with hurt and anger in his voice. “Once their affair was exposed, she stayed with him. She was expecting his child. One day, she fell ill with influenza. Nothing could be done. She lost both the child and her life.”
Emilia felt her heart sink. She understood how that could be possible. King Henry knew the right words when in the presence of a woman. He knew how to treat her with respect. His charm alone, she remembered, made her weak in the knees, but she never fell for him, not when she knew of how he had imprisoned her father and had her friend hanged. If only she had the chance to confront the king again and let him know how much she despised him. She looked at Jamie and thanked him in silence for taking her away from England and all the danger.
Tears filled Emilia’s eyes. No one deserved to die in horrible circumstances. “I’m so sorry,” she said, taking his hand.
“All in the past now.” He brought her hand against his lips and pulled her down, drawing her into his arms.
Emilia closed her eyes, letting Jamie hold her. Why did she notice every little detail around her? She made a mental picture of the tall trees, the sound of the running stream, the enchanting chirping sound the birds made, and most of all, Jamie’s heartbeat resounding in his chest. She could listen to the soothing sound forever.
One question needed an answer. Was he ready for a life with her? She sat up.
“What’s amiss?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied softly, hoping he believed her. She was afraid he would tell her he didn’t want a life with her or any woman. Not yet.
Drawing her knees against her chest, Emilia wished Jamie’s arms around her. She wanted to forget the past and move into a future with Jamie. Did he want the same with her?
He laid a hand on her shoulder, his hot breath teasing her neck. She’d lost her heart to Jamie Kingsley, and it frightened her to the core. No matter how often her mind told her it would only lead to heartbreak, her foolish heart had a mind of its own.
She turned and took his lips, needing Jamie to know how much she loved and wanted him. Her legs straddled him, feeling his manhood through her skirts. He wanted her too. Encouraged, she deepened her kiss, teasing his lips with her tongue. He lifted her skirts, his fingers stroking her moist thighs.
Gently, he pushed her down to the grass. With a telling boyish grin, he slid his head under her skirts, drawing a giggle from her. His lips kissed her inner thighs, until they reached where her legs joined, his light beard stubble tickling her skin. She twisted, trying not to laugh.
“Am I amusing you?” he teased.
“Pardon me. I’m ticklish, is all.”
He chuckled. “You are? Are you ticklish here?” he asked, gliding his fingers up her thigh. She giggled again. “And here?” His hand reached under her leg.
“Yes.”
“How about here?” he asked, putting his head between her thighs and licking her skin.
No longer laughing, she reveled in his intimate touch. He moved his tongue until her depths pulsed and exploded.
Jamie lifted his head and looked at her. He didn’t say a word, but she read his mind in his intense gaze. He wanted her. Without another moment lost, he untied the laces of his breeches and slipped into her. Their bodies joined. Their hearts beat as one. Emilia raised her hips, holding him within her depths, welcoming the length of him. She pulled him closer and held. They moved in unison until his release, while her rapid heartbeat contrasted with the sounds around them.
He rested his head atop her breasts. Her fingers knitted through his hair. Jamie stayed within her.
“We should get back before Nance and Thomas come searching for us,” he whispered.
She let out a low groan.
“Don’t be sad, love. We will do this again soon.”
Jamie fixed his clothes and offered his hand for her to stand.
“Thank you, sir.” She joined her fingers to his and kissed his cheek.
They walked back to the manor in a comfortable silence. Shouts from the house caught her attention. Amongst the horses gathered in the yard, she recognized King Henry’s banners. She stilled with fear twisting her gut.
* * * *
“What the hell is going on here?” Jamie asked, keeping Emilia behind him.
He studied the five armed soldiers and waited for an answer. Amongst them, he spotted the leader—the one he knew had received orders from King Henry.
Jamie stepped closer. “Why are you here?”
The robust leader gave him a royal scroll. “This gives the authority to arrest you for treason, sir. I am to take you to court for trial.”
“Treason? You have no authority here in France.”
Hand on the hilt of his sword, he said, “This gives me the authority anywhere.”
“On what grounds has the king decided to arrest me?” Jamie asked, his pulse racing with anger as he assessed the situation. His workers would never get here on time, and none of them knew how to fight. Jamie was beaten. And he hated the idea of letting Henry of Tudor win—this time.
“You plotted to help a prisoner escape, and you disobeyed King Henry’s orders. You are also charged of forging papers, releasing you from your sentence of service. Now turn around so I may put on the shackles.”
“I did nothing wrong, let alone forge papers.” Jamie grabbed the scroll from the soldier’s hand. He read the accusations written in the king’s hand, the gravity of the charges striking like a knife. He should have known Henry would not easily let go of his hold over him or allow him to take away a woman he had set his sights on without repercussions.
“Why does the king accuse you?” Emilia’s soft tone spoke beside him.
He gave her a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry, love. I will go with them and prove my innocence.”
“I’m going with you,” she said with determination.
Fighting down a sense of panic at the thought, he kissed her brow. “You will be safer here. I shall return before you miss me too much.”
Tears streamed down her cheek.
“Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.” She turned her head to hide her lie.
Jamie gently turned her and wiped her cheek with his thumb. “You were never a good liar, love.”
“Enough of this. We are leaving,” the head guard barked.
“Let me gather some of my belongings first,” Jamie replied.
“We will afford you on the way the necessary items if needed.”
Another guard approached Jamie with the thick wrist shackles.
“Is this necessary?” Emilia demanded.
After a moment, the head guard turned to Jamie. “I will leave them off if you give me your promise as a gentleman you will not try to escape.”
“Of course.” Jamie kept his voice even, but inside, his blood boiled.
“It is time to leave.”
“Wait,” Emilia said. She cupped Jamie’s face between her shaky hands. Her lips moved across his in a gentle embrace. “Come back soon, my love,” she whispered against his ear.
He held onto her another moment, feeling the heat of her body against his. “I love you, Emilia Crawford,” he murmured.
He kissed her one last time before he mounted his horse.
He glanced behind him and said, “Take care of her, Thomas. If I have not returned before the next full moon, please, my friend, take care of Emilia.”