He smiled. Leaving the window he went to the door and knocked gently.
A maid’s muffled voice asked, “Who is there?”
In his best imitation of the porter, Crispin said, “There is a message for your lady.”
“Very well,” she sighed. “One moment.”
He knew they would cover Vivienne with her gown before they would unlatch the door. He pulled the dagger free from its sheath and stood ready.
The bolt lifted and the door opened a crack. Crispin shoved hard and the maid fell over with a squeal. The other screamed and ran to a far corner. Vivienne jumped to her feet and grabbed the nearest object of any weight, an iron poker.
Crispin sheathed the dagger and rushed her. He grabbed the wrist holding the poker and twisted. With a cry she dropped the makeshift weapon to the floor. The maids rushed out screaming into the night and when they did, he lunged for the door and bolted it after them.
With a snort he stood back to gaze at Vivienne. Her gown fell open exposing the light shift beneath. He fondly recalled touching all the curves and valleys revealed by the shift’s transparency, until he also remembered in what manner she left him.
“Surprised?” He sat in her chair.
She inhaled deeply and strolled to the hearth, all the while rubbing her wrenched wrist. “Indeed. I did not think you had a horse.”
His smile was not meant to comfort, and by her pale expression he could tell it did not offer it. “We have unfinished business.”
“Do we? I said all I intended to say.”
“I believe you have something of mine.”
A ghost of a smile raised one corner of her mouth. “Yes. I do.” She moved to the chest and opened it. Neatly folded, she took out Crispin’s clothes.
He took them without ceremony and tucked them beside him in the chair. “I am obliged to you for not taking my belt with its dagger and money pouch.”
“I am not a monster, after all.”
His lips curled but not to smile. “No indeed. Let us begin, then, where we left off. What is it you sought from Gaston D’Arcy? What is this ‘object of great price’?”
“Well it certainly is not the Holy Grail.” She relaxed and leaned against the wall. She did not try to close the gap of her gown.
At first, Crispin did his best not to look, but then decided that courtly manners had no place with her. “For the sake of argument, I will believe you on this point…for now. If not the grail, what then?”
“It is something of mine. Rather, of my husband’s. Something he gave me and wishes to see me wear again. A valuable piece of jewelry.”
“D’Arcy stole it?”
She rolled her eyes and ran her hand up her other arm. “No. I gave it to him. A love token.”
Crispin laughed. “You gave your husband’s love token to your lover?”
“Do not laugh at me!” The relaxed stance dissolved. “You do not know what I endured at the disgusting hands of my husband! Do you know how old he is? How fat and how diseased? How would you like to be sold like livestock to the highest bidder?”
“Forgive me for stating the obvious,” he said, “but you agreed to the marriage.”
“And my alternative? Some other old wealthy creature? Or worse, a nunnery. Could you imagine me in such a place?”
“No, my lady. I admit I cannot.”
“You think your choices were few without your knighthood. Imagine it as a woman.”
He sighed and stared at his boots. “Very well. I concede it. And what does this have to do with Stephen St Albans?”
“Gaston sold it to him.”
“Ah!”
“And he would not sell it back to me.”
“So you became St Alban’s lover as well.”
“It was not for lack of trying, but he would do neither. The last time I confronted him he claimed he did not have it.”
“May I ask?”
“You are a stubborn man!” She whirled again and paced erratically, casting her arms about and rippling the gown that tried vainly to follow her unpredictable moves. “It is a ring! A ring. Now I must return to my husband empty-handed. He will surely suspect the worst and I shall be put in a nunnery after all. How would I look, I wonder, in habit and veil? I do not favor black, Crispin.”
Crispin burst into laughter, so much so that he leaned forward to slap his thigh.
Amazed, she planted her fists in her hips and glared.
He tried to stop but just as it subsided it flared up again. Finally, he reached into his purse and pulled out D’Arcy’s pouch. He opened it and pulled out what he took for a man’s pinky ring. “Is this your ring?”
She fell on it with a cry and landed at Crispin’s feet. “Where did you find it?”
“Forgive me, Madam, but I had it all along. And this you did not manage to steal. Had you but said earlier…”
“Oh, Crispin, I could kiss you!”
His laughter rumbled down to a low chuckle. “Can you?”
Looking up at him, she rested her hands on his knees. “Yes,” she whispered. “And more, if you wish.”
He sat back and gazed at her languidly. “You already paid me. Remember?”
“Was it enough?”
Vivienne was a most pleasant sight kneeling between his thighs, her fingers resting lightly on his knees. He could think of any number of ways she could repay him. By the flush of her cheek and the dewy moisture of her lips, she must have thought of them, too. He took a breath. “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “It was enough.” He rose and her hands fell away from him. He stood beside the shuttered window and inhaled the fresh, cold air creeping in from a chink in the wall. “I always thought that a Knight Templar is bound by a vow of celibacy.”
She rose. “He never told me he was a Knight Templar.”
“Do you know a Guillaume de Marcherne?” He turned to watch her face.
She said nothing for a long time. Too long. “No. Should I?”
Crispin scowled. “Vivienne.”
She gathered her gown about her with trembling fingers. “Perhaps…I have heard of him.”
“In what sense?”
“He…is from court, no?”
“A guest of the court. How do you know him?”
She squared her gaze on him. “Perhaps I simply met him there.” She said nothing more.
He debated with himself whether to confront her with his knowledge that she knew him far better than that, but the truth seemed more painful to bear. “Didn’t he ask you to get the grail? From me, perhaps?”
Her gaze wavered toward Crispin but mostly stayed fixed on the fire. “Why should he do that?”
He grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him. “Don’t lie to me. I will take almost anything but a lie. I’ll only ask you once more.”
“Yes! Yes! So he did. You may recall, I never did ask you for such.”
“Not directly. But instead you sent me on a futile errand to find D’Arcy when you knew-”
“I did not know he was dead. Not then. Not when I first came to you.” Her eyes searched Crispin’s. Once more he was uncertain if that look was calculated or sincere. “But once I did know he was dead,” she went on, “I thought Guillaume did it.”
Guillaume? He growled and pushed her back. “Did he?”
“I thought so at first. But now…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. So many people despised Gaston. It matters not,” she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Her hair fell away from her cheek.
Walking away from her, he ruminated on her words and the unnaturally harsh manner she said them. So if it was true that de Marcherne tried to force her to find the grail, her own purpose was stronger. But did this mean she had nothing to do with D’Arcy’s death? He wasn’t so certain. “Do you know Lady Rothwell, Sir Stephen’s sister?”
“You asked me this before and I told you that we are only acquainted by sight.” She lifted her chin to throw back her tossled hair. “Don’t you believe me, Crispin?”