Infamous by Virginia Henley Page B

you breed sheep?”
    He nodded. “At Warwick we do. At Flamstead, I breed horses.”
    â€œLike this beauty.” Jory stroked the palfrey’s silky mane.
    â€œShe’s a crossbreed. Her dam came from Middleton. The monks of the Abbey of Jervaulx breed pure white horses noted for their hardiness and strength. I brought her sire back from the Perche region of France. He was part Arabian. The result is a very showy female and a most fitting mount for you, my beauty.”
    â€œI love her, but didn’t I tell you that Joanna rides a white horse and prefers that her ladies ride less showy animals?”
    â€œAnd didn’t I tell you that you will not be her lady-in-waiting much longer? You’re about to become my Countess of Warwick.”
    â€œIf you insist, my lord. Does she have a name?”
    â€œNone that I know of, chéri .”
    â€œThen I shall call her Zephyr.”
    â€œA light breeze from the west; a perfect name.”
    Brutus took off into the trees after a hare, and Guy took Jory’s bridle and led her into the wooded copse. He dismounted, fastened Caesar to a young sapling, then lifted Jory from her saddle. They walked together along a path until they came to a pond where large yellow king cups and purple water hyacinths bloomed. The lovely buzz of insects and birdsong filled the air, making it a truly enchanted setting.
    His visit to Flamstead had so convinced him that this marriage was right, he had stopped on the way back to tell his son of it. “Will you marry me, Jory?” His dark face was intense.
    â€œYes, Guy. I’ve quite made up my mind. I will marry you.” Her heart was in her eyes.
    He gave a whoop, snatched an insect from the air, and held his hand out to her, as he had done the day of the hunt.
    She opened his fingers and laughed as a tiny iridescent dragonfly swooped up from his huge palm to reveal a small gold ring set with an emerald. “Guy, you are my magic man!”
    She slipped the ring onto her finger and held up her hand so she could admire it.
    He brought her fingers to his lips and gazed at her with adoration. “You enthrall me, Jory. I love the way you toss your hair over your shoulder and declare: I’ve quite made up my mind. You say the phrase often, and it has a finality about it that challenges any who would dare question your decision.”
    â€œIsn’t being in love the most glorious feeling of all time? I want to sing and dance and carry on inordinately. I have the impulse to climb on the de Clare mansion roof and shout to the world that I am madly in love with Guy de Beauchamp!”
    â€œA more calculating female would never tell a man she loved him. It would make her feel far too vulnerable.”
    â€œA secret,” she whispered. “I’ve felt vulnerable all my life.”
    An urge to protect her rose up in him. She had a fragility about her that tugged at his heartstrings. The world was ofttimes cruel to its most sweet and gentle creatures and he silently vowed to shield her with all his strength and power. His arms swept about her and he pressed her to his heart.
    They spent the entire afternoon together, riding, talking, laughing, and kissing away the hours. When they returned, Gilbert invited them to sup with him and Joanna, and Guy accepted. The newly wed Countess of Gloucester did not warm to Warwick, but held herself coolly aloof. As a consequence the two earls fell into a conversation about tomorrow’s Parliament and the upcoming French wars that seemed inevitable. They also spoke of unrest in Wales, where both men had spent considerable time in the last decade, fighting battles, building castle fortresses, and patrolling the Welsh marches to enforce the peace.
    Jory listened intently and it was brought home to her that all the nobles of the realm and their men-at-arms were at the beck and call of King Edward Plantagenet. If war was declared, these two earls, as well as her