"It is a long and troubling story," he said evasively. "No need to burden you with it."
Claudine shook her head reproachfully. "Now why am I thinking of clams?" Her fingers again sought his bruised cheek. "Do you know what I think you need? Me. Is there a chance you can get rid of that inconvenient friend?"
"I suppose he could always bed down in the smithy with Gunter. But what about the queen?"
"I'll get her to agree," Claudine said and then grinned. "Surely you've noticed that I am very good at getting what I want?"
Justin grinned, too, his spirits beginning to soar. "I can right gladly attest to that," he said, "and I'd like nothing better than to do more attesting, the sooner the better."
Claudine winked. "Wait here, then, whilst I talk to the queen. I'll be right back."
Justin sat down in the window seat to await Claudine's return. But no sooner had she disappeared into the queen's chamber than the door to the great hall was flung open and Durand strode in. Justin stiffened. This was the first time he'd seen Durand at court since confiding his suspicions to Eleanor. He had no idea how she had chosen to discipline her false knight, for she'd said nothing further. But it was obvious that Durand had lost the queen's favor. Nothing else could explain the look of fury that crossed his face now.
Justin got slowly to his feet as the other man stalked toward him. These past weeks had taught him that all wars were not fought on the battlefield, and one of the lessons he'd learned was to strike first and fast. "I'm surprised to see you, Sir Durand. I assumed that you had sailed for France with Lord John."
Durand's eyes were a brittle Viking blue, fathomless and frigid. "You'd do well to consider a sojourn in France yourself, de Quincy. If I were you, I'd ride for the nearest port as if my very life depended upon it."
"That sounds almost like a threat. But I am sure you meant it as a friendly warning, did you not?"
"Of course. You've given me such good reason to feel friendly toward you, after all," Durand said, with a menacing smile. "If not for you, the queen would have continued to see me as just another of her knights, one amongst many. That is all changed now, though — because of you."
"The pleasure was all mine," Justin said, and Durand's sarcastic civility splintered into shards of sheer ice.
"Some pleasures can be hazardous to a man's health," he said, "and some can even be fatal." He got the last word, for he turned on his heel then, not waiting for Justin's retort.
"Justin?" Claudine's eyes were wide, her brows arching upward toward her hairline. "What was that all about? I did not realize that you even knew Durand. What happened to cause such bad blood between you?"
"I accused him of being John's lackey — more or less — and he liked it not."
"You do enjoy courting danger, for certes! Luckily for you," she added, "I find madness to be well nigh irresistible n a man."
Justin smiled, but kept his eyes upon Durand's retreating figure. "You warned me about John, and with cause. But why should I accord the Prince of Darkness and one of his minions the same respect?"
"You're wrong," she said, with such vehemence that he looked at her in surprise. "John is indeed dangerous. Yet there are still occasional flashes of brightness in the dark depths of his soul." Her lips curved slightly then, hinting at a smile, for she could never be serious for long. "Lucifer was a fallen angel, after all. But you'll look in vain for any sparks in Durand's darkness, Justin. He is not a man you want as an enemy."
"Want him or not, I have him." Justin was touched by her concern, but he did not take Durand's threats as seriously as she did. How could the knight be a more dangerous foe than the Fleming?
~~
Shaking her hair over her shoulders, Claudine stretched so sensuously that Justin paused in the act of pouring wine. "You have more in common with cats than an overactive curiosity," he said admiringly. "You move like a cat, too."
"I hope you mean that as a compliment. Most people think cats are good only for catching mice and serving witches. But I fancy them myself, so I thank you." When he handed her a wine cup, she settled back comfortably in his arms. "I've been known to purr, too…"
"And to scratch."
She smiled into the wine cup. "I hope you're not complaining?"
"No… I think I was boasting," he said, and she laughed, then offered him the cup. "Drink up, darling," she urged. "You're going to be needing your strength tonight."
He began to laugh, too. "You are a shameless wench. I like that."
Reclaiming the cup, she deliberately dribbled wine onto his chest, and in the tussle that followed, the rest of the wine was spilt. After squabbling playfully over who ought to fetch the flagon, Justin dived, shivering, from the bed, for the hearth was not giving off much heat. "It is lucky the cup went into the floor rushes, ' he said with mock severity, "for I have but one set of sheets."
Claudine pretended to pout. "If you had not started squirming about like an eel, I'd have licked it off!" Lifting the covers, she patted the bed invitingly. "Hurry, I'm getting cold. I want you to warm — Jesu!"
"What?" He glanced around the cottage, puzzled, seeing no reason for her outcry.
She was staring at the huge mottled bruise on his left hip. "Surely I did not do that? Was it the man you captured yesterday? The killer?"
He nodded and climbed hastily back into bed, handing her the refilled cup. Sipping the wine, she explored his bruises with gentle fingers, a faint frown creasing her brow. "Forget what I said about your courting danger. You've taken her right into your bed!"
"So danger is a woman, then? I've always thought so, too."
She continued to survey his contusions, unsmiling. "I am not joking. You could have been killed, Justin. And it is not over, is it?"
"No," he admitted, "it is not." The afterglow of their lovemaking had begun to fade and reality was once more intruding. How were they going to find Sampson? And even if they did, could he be made to talk?
"That wretched letter had blood on it," Claudine said suddenly, and scowled at his look of surprise. "Of course I've figured out that the letter is at the heart of this, Justin! It is so obvious. You did not know the queen yet, for I had to help get you in to see her, remember? So whatever was in that letter had to be important, indeed, since she then took you into her service. You are not going to insult me now with a false denial, are you?"
"No," he said, "I am not."
"Good," she said, sounding mollified. "That was an easy guess. But I do not understand how the letter is linked to your hunt for this killer?"
Her voice had risen questioningly and he brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing her fingers. "I cannot tell you that, love."
"Why not? You could pretend this is a church and I am your confessor," she suggested impishly. "Anything you told me would not go beyond this bed, for I'd never betray the sanctity of the confessional!"
Justin was laughing again. "Listen, my beautiful blasphemer, I'd tell you if I could. But these are not my secrets, so I have not the right to reveal them, even to you."
"Yes, I am prying," she conceded. "And I'll not deny that I am curious, for who would not be? They are a most unlikely couple, after alclass="underline" the Queen of England and a Winchester cutthroat! Of course I wonder about such an odd pairing. But it is more than curiosity."
Her eyes lingered for a moment on the bruise under his eye. "Justin, I am worried about you. You were ambushed once already, and the next time you might not be so lucky. I do not know what information you hoped to gain from that outlaw, but I do know you did not get it. You admitted as much when you said it was 'not over.' What are you going to do now? I need to know if your life will be at risk. Surely you can tell me that much?"