A Mortal Bane(92)

“Those three can get it up on a dead man,” Somer de Loo said from the doorway, coming in from the stable. And then, into the tense silence that followed his words, “Oops! Didn’t think.”

“The dead man is nothing to do with us,” Magdalene said, shaking her head at the younger man. And then, turning back to her patron, “Are you hungry, William?”

“In your room,” he said. “I don’t want a lot of chatter and giggling distracting me. Bread and cheese and my wine will do, if you’ve nothing else.”

Dulcie, who heard his bellow well enough to understand that he wanted food, dropped a curtsy and scuttled toward the kitchen. Magdalene smiled, knowing that Dulcie would bring the best of everything they had, and preceded her guest into her chamber. She was aware that William of Ypres was watching her as she closed the door, and turned to smile at him, her hand going to the veil that covered her hair. His face had no expression at all as she asked, “Shall I help you to undress now, or would you like to unlace me first?”

He did not move and one brow lifted. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said. “One would think that God had designed you specially for the purpose of rousing and futtering a man. Yet you take little pleasure in the congress between men and women.”

[page]“I take pleasure in serving you, William, because you have done so much for me.”

He came forward then, smiling, and gave her a rough hug, which made her bite the inside of her lip as his mail cut into her flesh again. “Whore you are,” he said, “but only with your body. Your heart is steadier than most of the men sworn to me, some of them with more reason to be grateful to me than you.”

“I suppose it is because the selling of their bodies is not considered a sin and a shame,” she said, laughing up at him.

He relaxed his grip suddenly and stared down into her face. “Is that why you are so faithful?” he asked, grinning. “You believe in a special bond between us? That we are two sides of the same coin? That I am a whore, like you, because I sold my body to the king?”

Magdalene lifted her head, eyes wide. She had forgotten again that William might be coarse and brutal but his mind was quick, as quick as Winchester’s. He had understood more than she meant him to. Fortunately he had a wry sense of humor, but, she thought, he was tired, and under his surface good spirits, irritable. She did not want him thinking of the comparison she had made. She shook her head.

“Not that. Only that because a mercenary’s trade is not condemned like a whore’s, a mercenary can afford a slip or two in honor and honesty and expect it to be overlooked. A whore, who is thought to be evil by nature, must take care never to be dishonest with those whose trust she desires.”

“Yet there is that bond between us, that we both sell our bodies.” His lips tightened. “And if Waleran de Meulan has his way, I may be forced into true whoredom, selling myself to others than the king.”

“I do not believe that,” Magdalene said.

“No.” He shook his head. “I have given my faith and I will hold by it.” His mouth twisted. “Perhaps for the same reason as you. Waleran, who exacts lands and honors from the king for ‘love’ rather than for service, can afford a little betrayal here and there. I, who have been granted lands and honor for service, cannot.”

“Nor would you wish to,” Magdalene exclaimed. He stared at her, then snorted with wry laughter and tightened his grip in appreciation of her defense of his honor. She gasped with pain but smiled up at him. “William, love,” she said, “do let me help you undress. My skin is going to look like fishnet tomorrow from being bruised by your armor.”