"I'd be much beholden to you, Molly," he said, and she winked as Bennet pushed away from the table and got to his feet.
"I'd best find a man to ride to Wich Malbank and spoil Piers's week. I am also going to put the word about that Piers will pay to find out who burned his warehouse, and pay well. With luck, we might learn who was the true target last night. No offense, Justin, but I hope it is you and not me!"
"You took the words right out of my mouth," Justin said and they both laughed.
Molly was not amused. "If you two do not mind, I'd rather not jest about which one of you was supposed to be turned into kindling last night!"
"You are not usually so squeamish, Moll," Bennet teased, leaning over to give her a hug. "I'd say we were both lucky beyond belief, Justin. Where were you, anyway? Why did you not go back to the warehouse?"
Justin hesitated, not wanting to lie to Bennet but not wanting to tell him the truth, either. Bennet had always been quick; he glanced from Justin to Molly and then to the rumpled, unmade bed. "Well," he drawled, "you did not waste any time, did you, old friend?"
Justin could not blame Bennet, for he was sure that if he'd had a sister, he would be protective of her, too. That did make it difficult, though, to offer a defense. Fortunately for him, Molly was more than up to the task.
"What, you think he seduced me? Do not be stupid, Bennet. I may not have many choices in this life, but I damned well pick my own bedmates!"
~*~
Just had once been told by a Norwegian trader that when they'd still worshipped the old gods, men believed that one who was slain in battle would be welcomed into Valhala or Paradise by beautiful, flaxen-haired maidens, the daughters of Odin. It was a pagan superstition of course, but he could see how it might appeal to men facing death, and it had lingered in his memory. When he first saw Molly's friend, Barbele, he remembered, for she was almost as tall as he was, big-boned with a plenitude of womanly curves, a mass of hair the color of honey, a lusty laugh, and a surprisingly carefree disposition for a woman who made her living in one of the most precarious of professions.
"Is that all you need done?" she asked blithely, waving her hand as if it were already accomplished. Justin described Rutger to her and told her where she could find him at the alehouse where Baltazar had said he'd been passing all his days in port. She was so confident of her powers to charm that she waved aside Justin's offer of partial payment, saying she was content to wait until she'd gotten him the information he needed, adding playfully that she was not usually so trusting of men, but if Molly trusted him enough to take him into her bed, that was good enough for her.
They left her standing in the doorway of the bawdy house and continued down Cuppinges Lane. This was one of the more sinful streets of the city, and it amused Justin that it was in such close proximity to St Mary's nunnery. If the good sisters thought Molly was an unseemly neighbor, he wondered how they dealt with the bawdy house whores. "So how did she know we'd lain together he asked. "You introduced me only as a childhood friend."
"Women always know." Slipping her arm through his, she turned to wave a final farewell to Barbele. "Let's stop at the cook shop, Justin, ere we go home. I do not think either one of us has eaten since yesterday eve, and I am for certes not in the mood to cook. Ah, wait, I forgot — we have the food that the neighbors brought. Unless we have to give it back now that Bennet is not dead!" She giggled at that, sounding like the Molly of memory, and he felt a vast, sweeping relief that she'd been spared more grief.
"I am still not sure I ought to go back to the cottage with you," he began, and she reached up to lay her fingers against his lips.
"Hush, now, we've already settled that. I truly would feel safer with you than if I slept alone tonight. And Bennet said he was going to put men to guarding all of Piers's properties till he gets back from Wich Malbank, and that includes the cottage. I doubt that there is a need for all that, but Bennet does love to spend Piers's money. For that matter, so do I!"
Justin knew he was making a mistake, but he could not help himself. "Have you given any thought, Molly, to what you'd do if you did not have Piers to keep you in such comfort? There must be other means to earn a livelihood — "
"Name three," she challenged. "Unless you want me to earn my bread on my back the way Barbele does, I'd say I'm doing right well for myself these days."
Justin was not ready to concede defeat. "But surely Bennet makes enough for the both of you with all he does for Piers?"
"I make more," she said matter-of-factly. "Ah, Justin, you are talking of plans and prospects as if such things were ever within my grasp. If I've learned nothing else in this life, it is that to plan for the morrow is folly, especially for the likes of Bennet and me. Now you… it may be different for you. It does sound as if you've risen in the world since we last met, lover. For example, you said that you 'answer to the Earl of Chester,' but I got the sense that this was temporary. Who do you answer to the rest of the time?"
"You would not believe me, lass, if I told you."
She gave him a pensive, speculative look that promised further interrogation. But before she could persevere, Justin heard his name called out behind him. "De Quincy!" He swung around, pulling Molly with him, to see Thomas de Caldecott striding to ward them.
Thomas was smiling. "This is better luck than I expected for I've been searching the town for you. The earl wants to know when we'll be returning to Wales." His eyes had already moved from Justin to Molly, subjecting her to an appraisal that was so openly admiring it evaded giving offense. "Are you not going to introduce me to your lovely lady, Justin? I understand now why we've seen so little of you at the castle!"
"Mistress Molly, may I present Sir Thomas de Caldecott?" Justin said, hoping he did not sound as trapped as he felt, and Thomas at once shifted into his courtier mode, kissing Molly's hand with a gallant flourish. Justin took some solace from Molly's composure. Unlike so many of the women he'd seen exposed to Thomas's practiced charm, she did not appear to be in immediate danger of succumbing to the knight's seductive smile and beguiling blue eyes.
Thomas turned his attention back to Justin then, saying candidly, "Look, about our earlier dispute, I want to offer my apologies. I ought not to have flared up like that. But you made me look foolish in the earl's eyes, and I have my fair share of vanity. I hope you are not one for holding grudges?"
"No, Thomas, I am not."
"Glad I am to hear it. Well, I'll not intrude further upon your time with the fair Molly. What should I tell the earl about your plans?"
"Tell him," Justin said, "that I expect to be done in Chester by week's end," and Thomas bent over Molly's hand again. But as he started to turn away, Justin suddenly remembered something that the knight had shared during their ride into Wales.
"Thomas!" The other man glanced over his shoulder, a quizzical smile upon his face that disappeared with Justin's next words. "I was curious about something. I envy you your gift for languages. I was wondering if you'd ever learned any Flemish?"
Thomas's smile came back. "No, I cannot say that I have," he said, sounding faintly puzzled by the question. "Well… a pleasure, Mistress Molly. Justin, I'll see you at the castle, and I'll tell the earl that we'll be departing soon."
They stood watching as Thomas sauntered off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Molly said, "That one fancies himself too much for my taste. Why did you ask if he spoke Flemish?"
"I know little about the outlaw leader, only that he spoke both Welsh and Flemish. Thomas is quite fluent in Welsh, and I remembered his telling me that his mother was raised in Pembrokeshire."