“No. Not all women. I need only know two to know it is not worth the risk.”
“Two?”
“My own mother died delivering me. My father never missed a day reminding me of that.”
“But surely you know that it was not your fault your mother died.”
“That mattered little to my father. He would have chosen her life over mine and told me as much. Repeatedly.”
“That is cruel.”
“Yes. My father was certainly that.”
“So to live your life alone is the course you will take? You, my lord? You? A man of great passion and caring? You would choose a life of what? Of soldiering? Of no one to return home to?” Mort laughed quietly. “No, my lord, that is not the life for you.”
“Enough of this prattle.” Peter moved into the moonlight once again fully under control. “You’re like an old woman.”
He jerked the door open, intent on making his way to the little room without talking to anyone. He’d had enough talk for today. A woman with long, black hair had other ideas. She threw herself in front of him, leaning her body against him for emphasis. “Where are you going in such haste, my lord?”
The woman’s eyes were hooded and there was no question of her occupation.
“Waiting for me?” Peter asked. He did not need this now.
She let go a throaty laugh and tossed her hair over her shoulder. Peter recognized the little act for what it was but she was only doing her job. He decided to play along then let her down easy. “And where should I be going?”
She twisted toward him, rubbing up the length of him.
The men around them were enjoying the display, murmuring their encouragement. He just wasn’t sure if the encouragement was meant for him or her.
“She’d take care of you.” One grizzly man smiled a toothless grin, lifting his mug toward them.
“She don’t charge much either,” a skinny, young man behind him added. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen.
Peter looked at the two of them. “And has she taken care of you?”
“Not a few minutes before you and your man came in,” Grizzly responded, his laugh more of a gasping chuckle.
The woman smiled provocatively. “It can be as long or as short as you want it.”
She moved in closer, her lips hovering near his own, surrounding him with the scent of rotted teeth and barley soup. He wouldn’t have touched this woman for all the power in the world.
He pulled back. “Well, I don’t doubt you but I’ve no need of you tonight.”
The instant silence in the room was the first clue. Mort had come in quietly and stood by the only exit, no doubt watching the scene unfold.
“You too good for our Cinda?” The gauntlet had been effectively dropped. The grizzly man stood from the bench, hitching his pants up as he swayed.
Skinny beside him was not as drunk. He stood beside the man, his chest puffed out. They presented an intoxicated, unified front. Father and son? Perhaps.
“I’m afraid it’s the ‘our Cinda’ that I find objectionable.” Peter’s hand was itching to draw his sword. These two seemed ready for a fight. Let them start something. He knew it wouldn’t be a fair fight but that release was much more to his liking. He smiled his apologies at the woman. “I’m sure you understand.”
“I’m good enough for the priest but not good enough for you?” She spit in his face. It dribbled down his cheek.
Peter wiped his face. Mort came closer, his sword drawn. “That’s no way to treat a representative from the crown.”
“King William?” She spit on the ground.
Grizzly and Skinny pushed her behind them, their daggers poised for defense.
