~~
Justin followed Will from the queen's great chamber out into the hall. Heading for the hearth, Will began to warm his hands over the flames. "Mayhap gloves are not such a foppish, newfangled fashion, after all," he conceded. "Jesu, how I hated to bring her more bad news!"
"What happened?"
"You know about John's disappearance on Candlemas Night? Well, when we got word that he'd been spotted on the Winchester Road, I took out after him. I suppose he could have been bound for the West Country or a sojourn in Wales. But Winchester is just twelve miles from the coast, so I rode for Southampton like my horse's tail was on fire — to no avail. He was already halfway across the Channel by the time I got there."
"What did you have in mind?" Justin asked curiously, and Will gave him a rueful smile.
"Damned if I know! Try to talk some sense into him, I guess. Not that I've ever gotten him to listen in the past. I had to try, though, even if I got nothing out of it but saddle sores and frostbite."
Justin knew — along with most of Christendom — that John and Richard had a brotherly bond in the tradition of Cain and Abel. He found himself seeing John in a new light now, for if he could inspire such loyalty in a man like Will, he could not be utterly beyond redemption. "I agree with the queen," he said. "You did your best and what more can a man do than that?"
Will shrugged. "The trouble is, lad," he said, "that the French king is doing his best, too, and if he has his way, King Richard will never see England again."
~~
Bidding Will farewell, Justin crossed the hall and entered the stairwell. It was quite dark, for a wall rush light had gone out, and he started down slowly. His mind upon the hunt for the Fleming, he did not hear the footsteps below, light and hurried. He was not aware of the woman hastening up the stairs, not until she turned the corner and they collided. When she stumbled, he reached out to steady her and breathed in a familiar perfume.
"Oh!" Her voice was low, startled. "I am so sorry!"
"I'm not."
Claudine smiled in the shadows, recognizing the voice. "Justin de Quincy, you are the most unpredictable man I've ever met. Why are you lurking out here in the stairwell?"
"Hoping to run into you, demoiselle."
"Well," she said softly, "here I am."
Justin might not have been involved with a woman like Claudine before, but he was still experienced enough to know an invitation when he heard one. Shifting so there was no longer space between them, he slid his fingers under her chin, then tilted her face so he could claim her mouth with his own. Her response was all he could have hoped for; her lips parted, her arms going up around his neck.
Eventually the sound of an opening door above them intruded, breaking the erotic spell, and they moved apart. "Come on," Claudine whispered. "That might be the queen's chaplain!"
They fled hand in hand down the stairs and out into the bailey. It had been snowing intermittently all morning, and lacy flakes were drifting down lazily around them, so soft and gentle to the touch that it was like a shower of delicate winter flowers. When Claudine caught one on the tip of her tongue, Justin began to laugh. "Do that again and I'll not answer for the consequences!"
"I've never given a fig for consequences," she said airily, pretending to lick another snowflake from her lower lip. "I've been meaning to ask you, Justin, if you found my mantle brooch, a silver crescent? I may have lost it at your cottage, for I missed it after I visited you that night."
"I'll take a look for it," "Justin said, and brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing her palm and then the inside of her wrist. "We'd probably have a better chance of finding it, though, if we looked for it together."
"What are we waiting for?" When she slipped her arm through his, he decided that if Eve had a smile half as bewitching as Claudine's, no wonder Adam had been so willing to taste that forbidden fruit.
~~
The cottage was cold, for they'd not taken the time to build a fire in the hearth, lighting one in bed, instead. Afterward, they burrowed under the covers for warmth and shared a meal Justin scrounged up from his bare larders. He apologized for the plain fare, but Claudine merely laughed, assuring him that he was an ideal host in the ways that mattered. He'd never known a woman who was so playful and provocative, too, and, watching as she ate heartily of his brown bread and goat cheese, he felt a prickling of unease. It would be so easy to fall in love with her, so dangerously easy.
She had hair as soft as silk and as dark as a summer midnight. When he wrapped a long strand around his throat, she smiled and nipped his earlobe with teeth like small, perfect pearls. Pillowing her head against his shoulder, she asked, "What are you thinking about? Me, I hope…"
He could not very well tell her what he was really thinking — that she was far too beguiling for his own good. Instead, he said lightly, "I was thinking there ought to be a law against any woman being so beautiful. Not only is it unfair to other women, but you must be a hazard to city traffic. Men riding by are likely to watch you instead of the road, dropping their reins and losing their stirrups and getting themselves thrown into the street at your feet."
She laughed softly. "How very true. The mayor even asked me not to venture out into the city during the daytime, for they cannot cope with the chaos I cause. Will you mind if I confine my visits to those hours after dark?"
He propped himself up on his elbow. "I'll have to give that some thought. Ought I to worry that you might be a succubus? They only come out after dark, too."
She blinked. "A what?"
"A succubus — a sultry female spirit who comes in the night to steal a man's seed whilst he sleeps."
"You caught me out," she confessed. "I am indeed a succu… whatever, and a very successful one, too. I've stolen your seed twice already this afternoon and you did not offer even token resistance!"
Justin grinned. "The laws of war stipulate unconditional surrender to succubi. How could you not know that, Claudine?"
"Alas," she said, "my education has been lacking. Yours, however, seems to have been very thorough. Are you sure you are not one of King Henry's out-of-wedlock sons, after all? Who are you, Justin — truly?"
"I'm a man bedazzled by your dark eyes," he parried, "a man getting thirsty again for your wine-sweet kisses." She'd been as generous with her history as she'd been with her body, talking freely of her late husband and her brothers back in Aquitaine, telling him about a sun-drenched childhood that seemed worlds away from the solitary years of his own youth. What could he tell her in return? About the taunts of "Bastard" and "Devil's
whelp" and Aubrey's stubborn denial of paternity?
She twisted around so she could see his face. "You want to remain a man of mystery, then? As you wish. But I ought to warn you that I'm very good, indeed, at solving puzzles. First things first, though…" Leaning over, she gave him a "wine-sweet" kiss. Drawing back then, she studied him pensively. "I know little of Latin," she said, "no more than the responses to the Mass and a few odd phrases… like 'Carpe diem.' Do you know the meaning, Justin?"
"Yes," he said slowly, "I do. 'Seize the day.'"
She nodded. "It is a fine thought, is it not?" When he nodded, too, she smiled and kissed him again.
Justin understood more than the Latin translation. He comprehended what she was trying to tell him, as tactfully as possible — that they could have no future together. That he already knew. She was a child of privilege, with dower estates in Aquitaine and a distant kinship to the queen. Whereas he was a child of sin, with no land of his own, not even enough soil to be buried in, all that he possessed able to fit into his saddle bags. They could share a bed, but no tomorrows, make love but not plans. He was glad of her gentle warning. For both their sakes, he must not ask for more than she could give.