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full speed, setting the pace and expecting others to keep up with him. His daughter took up the challenge and Gloucester followed.
    Warwick drew his horse close to Jory’s. “They will hunt on the open ground. My falcon will head to the river, lured by the waterfowl. If you ride into the woods to elude everyone, I will have no trouble seeking you out.”
    She watched him gallop after the others, closing the distance effortlessly. She saw him stand in the stirrups to cast his falcon and she smiled a secret smile as it circled toward the river. “So this is how assignations are made.” She shivered with anticipation.
    Jory heard Lynx call out to her, and she had no choice but to join his party. She glanced wryly at Sylvia, who had invited most of the queen’s ladies to hunt with her. “Poor Lynx, obviously you share Gilbert de Clare’s opinion that the sport of falconry is being ruined by females. Sylvia’s father also has a face like a thundercloud. Why don’t you and Roger Bigod join John de Bohun and his sons? The ladies will better enjoy themselves without the critical eyes of the men watching their every move.”
    A look of relief and gratitude came over Lynx’s face. He courteously took leave of his wife and joined the men.
    Jory hunted with the ladies for an hour before she decided to elude them. It was a simple matter to cast her kestrel toward the woods and then follow the small raptor into the trees.
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    â€œHow on earth did you find me?” Jory had not been at all confident that Warwick would turn up at the place she had chosen.
    â€œI followed the scent of freesia.” He dismounted, perched his falcon on an oak limb, and closed the distance between them. “No, in truth it was horse sense that led me to you. Your little roan instinctively sought a clearing among the trees with a stream nearby. Caesar unerringly ran you both to ground.”
    â€œCaesar and Brutus…you have a fancy for Roman history.”
    He took her kestrel, which she had already hooded, and perched it on a tree branch. Then he held up his arms for Jory. “I have a fancy for many things…especially green-eyed wood nymphs.”
    She came down to him in a swirl of white underdress and fluttering petticoats. “Have a care, Frenchman. Mayhap I lured you to this enchanted place to cast a spell upon you.”
    â€œToo late, my beauty. You have already done that.” He set her feet to the ground and bent his head to steal a kiss. When she offered up her mouth, it led to another and then to a dozen. “Jory, I’ll never have enough of you.”
    He released her and moved away so that he would not lose control of his raging desire. He opened his saddlebags, took out a mantle, and unrolled it on the ground. “If my lady fair will sit, I will feed her ambrosia and tempt her with flagons.” He unwrapped a linen napkin that held crusty bread and medallions of cheese and set them down beside a leather wineskin. “I have never wooed anyone before. I’m quite green at the game.”
    It seemed a most unlikely thing for a twice-wed man in his thirties to claim, yet Jory believed him. She patted the place beside her. “I think we should explore this wooing together.” Guy, I want more than wooing. I want you to court me. I think I’m falling in love…I want you to beg me to become your wife!
    He stretched his length in the grass and picked up the wineskin. “Do you know how to handle one of these?”
    â€œI haven’t the faintest notion…Will you give me lessons?”
    â€œIt would give me infinite pleasure to teach you anything and everything you wish to learn, my beauty.”
    She licked her lips. “I have a thirst for knowledge.” I have an insatiable thirst for you, Guy de Beauchamp.
    â€œBetter take off your beautiful surcoat. Wine stains are difficult to wash away.”
    â€œAn ingenious ploy to