my head for a pillow.”
The sound of Nicolaa de la Haye’s laugh sent Servanne cringing deeper into the folds of cloth. The sheriff’s wife strolled out of the shadows and took a seat on the claw-footed chair that perched at the end of the bed, giving her a clear view of the area of the wardrobe Servanne would have to cross in order to effect an escape.
“Well? Should we expect foam and fits from our hallowed regent when we greet him in the morning? I assume you have not been with him all this time discussing his political affairs.”
“He was not overly pleased to hear of Lucien’s resurrection,” De Gournay admitted dryly. “But he was remarkably calm, all things considered. No doubt he had planned from the outset what to do and say if the whole ugly matter came to light.”
“He played an equal role in discrediting the Wardieu name. I would have thought his reaction would be much stronger.”
“Why? The charges and warrants he drew up were valid; his generosity in clearing Robert Wardieu’s name and restoring certain properties would be viewed now as a magnanimous gesture to try to right a dreadful wrong. If my brother rears his vengeful head, our valiant Prince Softsword will simply claim to have been duped the same as everyone else. Deus volt: God wills it.”
“God help us if he becomes king,” Nicolaa muttered, and stretched a delicate foot forward. She was dressed in a sheer, sleeveless tunic, belted loosely at the waist, and the sinuous movement caused the neckline to gape wide, baring the full half-moons of her breasts almost to the nipples. “I waited up for you,” she added in a purr. “Are you not curious to know why?”
“You have already advised sleep, so I cannot imagine.”
She formed a seductive pout with her lips and blew him a mock kiss. “If you are going to be spiteful, I will not tell you where I spent my time earlier tonight. And I certainly will not tell you what I learned while I was visiting La Seyne’s encampment.”
“You were in La Seyne’s camp?”
“Not in any official capacity, you understand. But I was bored, and thought I might be able to discover a thing or two about our mysterious visitor that could be of some use to you tomorrow.”
“I was told his men were as close-lipped as the bastard is himself.”
Nicolaa sighed and clucked her tongue. “No man can keep his lips closed under certain methods of persuasion. I found one yeoman in particular who was so engrossed with what I could do with my lips, he answered any questions I put to him. Boastings, for the most part, but one could glean a taste of the truth here and there, if one delved deep enough.”
De Gournay moved into Servanne’s field of vision and she felt sure her gasp would have been audible if not for a timely fountain of sparks bursting in the hearth. He was completely naked, his body a solid, gleaming spectacle of muscular symmetry. There were no scars, no blemishes to mar the sculpted perfection. His chest was hairless and smooth, the powerful bunches of muscle finely delineated by veins that swelled or receded in accordance with the movement required. His belly was flat and hard, his thighs thickened by countless hours on horseback. Shoulders were like slabs of granite, bulked by the weight of heavy armour, sloping down from a proud, bullish neck.
This further evidence of similarities between the two brothers took Servanne’s breath away. There could be no two more evenly matched combatants, judging by size and shape. As to strength, she could only stare at De Gournay’s unmarked flesh and pray that an unknown physician had indeed excelled in his skills fourteen years ago. “Well? What have you learned?”
The glistening, jewel-green eyes rose grudgingly from the junction of his thighs.
“I was told La Seyne comes down the course like a black wind from hell, clad in steel, riding a demon-bred rampager. He scorns the use of blunted tips on the lance, and does not hesitate to neglect the niceties of chivalry by aiming squarely at his challenger’s visor. Further, in the nine years he has been in the dowager’s service, he has never lost a match, never even been jostled from the saddle.”
Nicolaa paused and stretched sinuously. “At first I thought this last to be just another case of braggadocio, for even you, my lusty lord, have found the ground beneath you a time or two, yet