Authors: Susan Sizemore
had happened to someone else.
He deserved whatever it was Vivienne wanted her to do.
Vivienne's fingers gently stroked her cheeks. "Don't cry, my sweet," that dark, seductive voice
whispered. "I'll make it all better. You know I will."
Simon was on his way
to find Diane when the laughter distracted him. Warned him, rather, for
his hand went to his sword the instant the sound reached his ears. He saw lights in the distance, heard the
faint strumming of lutes beneath the bright sounds of merriment.
Something felt wrong about the noise. No doubt it was nothing more than a group of young courtiers
who'd adjourned to a spot far from the king's residence for a bit of revelry. That the spot they'd chosen
was next to the hall where his household was lodged, disturbed Simon. He knew more than he wanted to
about the revels of courtiers.
He knew that if he were young and randy, and reckless, he might be tempted to seek out the favors of
a beautiful storyteller from far Cathay.
He, himself, was tempted, constantly tempted, even though he was no youth. The difference was that
he fought hard to control his impulses. He knew the heedless young men of Louis's court would take
what they, wanted. Once more, he had brought Diane into deadly danger, and for a selfish whim at that.
He should have left her sheltered at a nunnery, but had craved her company too much to really see to her
safety. She had every right to hate him for exposing her to the court and its vicious games.
She had nearly broken before the king today, nearly let her pride lead her into a fatal mistake. So had
he. He had given her a choice. He had let her decide her own fate, and his, before the king. He would
have walked out with her if she had turned to go. He must have suffered a moment of madness! For an
instant, she had been more important to him than his purpose in coming to Paris. He'd even been thinking
of her while he talked to Father Paquin.
He would have to send her away, for both their sakes. She'd be happy to go. He had seen the look on
her face when she left the audience chamber. He'd felt her anguish, and her fury.
She'd been through enough. Once he got her out of this predicament, he would find a way to make her
truly safe from this world where she didn't belong.
He did not draw his sword, but he did move carefully forward, toward the revelers he saw in the
torchlight up ahead.
******************
Vivienne hadn't granted her that wish. Vivienne hadn't liked some of the things Diane had thought while
the sorceress had been in her head, and had decided to let the Eurotrash loose on Diane. If indeed the
odd conversation had taken place. Diane wasn't sure if she'd fantasized the whole thing or not. It had all
been very weird and dreamlike.
No. She knew it wasn't a dream. It was just hard to accept the reality of the magic Jacques and
Vivienne could wield, no matter how intimately involved she was in it. Even when they screwed around
with her head and read her thoughts and messed with her perceptions.
Right now, she didn't have time to think about magic. She didn't know where Vivienne had gotten to,
and had her hands too full with Viv's friends to really care. There were three men, and Alys. And poor
Felice as well. Simon's daughter stood inconspicuously behind the man who had his arm around Alys's
waist. Felice was not one of Diane's problems, but Alys certainly was.
Alys wore a sneer, and a rather low-cut gown considering the winter weather. Her cloak was pushed
back over her shoulders to reveal her décolletage. The men's gazes kept drifting to Alys's breasts.
Diane's was on the dagger that Alys kept fingering.
"I want her dead," Alys said.
The men laughed. Diane hoped the sound didn't indicate their agreement with the redhaired woman.
She was surrounded by the group. They'd slowly backed her Against the stone wall of the building. They
reminded her of a pack of hunting vampires from a gothic horror movie. Very glamorous, and
decadent-looking, and full of glittering menace.
The servants and musicians didn't seem to notice she was in trouble. Her throat was dry, and she had
a pounding headache. She almost wished one of the waiters would offer her a drink. She also thought
that she was far too calm. Maybe she was so used to being threatened that the experience was getting a
little boring.
Well, at least she'd learned that showing fear to these savages might cause them to attack.
"Dead," Alys repeated.
The one holding Alys said, "Don't be foolish."
"I hate her."
"I care not," he responded. "She's a pretty thing."
One of the men said, "Father Raymond told me her people perform hideous sexual perversions."
The men laughed again, and gave each other smirking looks. Diane couldn't help but roll her eyes. This
reminded her of a couple of blond jocks she'd known in high school. They thought Asian girls knew
more about sex than Anglo girls—like she'd been born knowing how to give head, or something.
"No wonder Lord Simon replaced you with her," one of the other men drawled.
Alys tried to lunge at the man who'd spoken, but her boyfriend kept a firm hold on her.
"Bastards!" she shrieked. "All of you."
"Fine talk from a whore," the boyfriend said. "My whore," he added, and roughly kissed her.
Diane noticed Felice's reaction as the girl stepped back to hide among the servants. It occurred to
Diane that the man kissing Alys was the Gilbert that Felice had mentioned earlier. Her husband—who
beat her, and fooled around with his mistress in front of her. The poor kid.
Did Simon know about this?
Gilbert let Alys go. One of the other men grabbed her, but she broke away. She pointed at Diane.
"Take her!"
Diane looked around. She wondered if she could make a break for the hall door. She wondered if the
guards keeping warm inside the building would help her.
"Don't fret, Alys, we'll have her," Gilbert said. "But we'll have a story first. Then, perhaps we'll watch
while she teaches you some of her foreign perversions."
"Then we'll have you both," one of the others added.
"Perhaps even Felice could learn something from the heathen," Gilbert said. He patted Alys on the
rear. "Then I could have both of you in my bed at once, the way the Saracens do it."
"Or all three of them," someone suggested.
The men roared with laughter, while Alys screamed in outrage. No one but Diane noticed Simon de
Argent step out of the shadows.
"Gilbert."
He spoke quietly, but the deadly tone of his deep voice cut across the merriment more effectively than
if he'd shouted. The courtyard was silent an instant after he spoke. The men whirled around. Alys moved
behind Gilbert. Swords were drawn. The servants backed out of the way and the musicians scattered
into the night. Felice lifted her head and took an eager step toward her father.
He halted the girl with a gesture. "Peace, child. We'll be going home soon."
Diane crossed her arms under her breasts. Simon was good at rescues. His timing was impeccable.
She was too scared at knowing he was outnumbered to know if she was happy to see him or not. In
fact, she wasn't even sure if he was here to rescue her. His attention was centered on Felice. As it should
be, Diane told herself. Felice was his daughter, and she definitely looked like she could use rescuing.
Diane's heart twisted at the grim, implacable expression on Simon de Argent's handsome face. Who
was there, she wondered, to rescue Simon?
Simon didn't care about the other two swordsmen. He kept his attention on Gilbert. "I'm going to kill
you," he told the younger man.
Gilbert laughed at Simon's words. Simon understood Gilbert's attitude. The lad was tall, strong,
younger, confident. Confident in the protection of the king as well as in his own abilities. Gilbert sneered
as he stepped forward.
"We have no quarrel," Gilbert said, though he made no move to put up his sword. He put a hand over
his heart. He sounded sincere as he said, "Call me son and we will be at peace with one another."
"You are no son of mine."
"Son-in-law," Gilbert answered. "The deed's accomplished. Let it be, Simon."
"I told you no when you came sniffing after Felice at Marbeau. She wanted none of you."
Gilbert's gaze flicked to Felice for a moment. "What does it matter what the girl wanted? The king
wanted the match. It's a good alliance."
"The king does not decide where my children marry. I do. Felice did not want to marry. I agreed that
she could enter a convent."
"That would have been a waste."
"Not to me," Felice spoke up. Her bruises shone dark and ugly in the moonlight. "I wanted to take the
veil. It's all I ever wanted, to be a bride of Christ." Her voice was choked with anguish.
"Then that is what you will do," Simon told his daughter. He wanted to take her in his arms as he'd
done when she was young. After nearly a year with Gilbert Fitz-William he doubted she was young
anymore. This was no time for a fatherly embrace. He tried to reassure her by saying, "As soon as you
are a widow you can take the veil."
"She's not going to be a nun," Gilbert said. "She belongs to me, my lord."
"I would have killed you sooner," Simon said to Gilbert, "if you hadn't hid in Paris behind Louis's
throne. I might have waited to kill you in a challenge before the court. But —" He glanced briefly at
Diane. He was glad he'd found Gilbert among the men tormenting Diane. It would make killing him
doubly enjoyable. "This is more convenient," he said, instead of bothering to explain his reasoning to
Gilbert and the curs with him. They'd pay as well, if any of them had touched Diane.
"I am under the king's protection," Gilbert pointed out. "We are both under the Peace of God while at
court."
Simon shook his head. "You kidnapped my daughter on her journey to join the holy sisters at
Fontrevault. It's time you paid for your sins."
"I wed the girl. The king sanctioned the marriage."
"I did not."
"I will be your heir after you've sent Denis to his grave. The king agrees that I should follow you as
lord of Marbeau. It's a good match."
There was a note of desperation in Gilbert's voice, as though he'd just realized that Simon was not
going to let him get away with abducting Felice. Simon wasn't going to let him get away with anything.
"Everyone thinks so," Simon agreed. "You fled to Paris, and the king denied my petition to return my
child. The king sanctioned your marriage. Then he invited me here. Do you know why?"
Simon had spoken calmly, he hadn't raised his voice and his tone was reasonable, but Diane could tell,
from her unnoticed spot by the wall, just how furious he was. Furious and determined. His cold resolve
frightened her. She was looking into the face of a stone killer. She remembered the visions Vivienne had
shown her. She was reminded of Vivienne's promise.
She wondered what she could do.
Simon watched as confusion crossed Gilbert's face. "The king brought you here to marry Marguerite
deHauly." His face split in a wide grin. "I will gladly call her mother."
"Though she's no older than your own wife?" Simon questioned.
"Her motherly kiss will be all the warmer then."
Simon almost laughed. "By the saints, lad, I can see the lust for committing incest with my wife burning
in you already." He did laugh when Alys moved from behind Gilbert. "Must you crave every woman of
my household? Even the sluts and the ones I haven't married yet?"
Gilbert chose to treat his words as a jest, a shared attitude between sophisticated men of the world.
He gestured over his shoulder, toward Diane. "Aye, my lord. I was just about to sample that member of
your household when you arrived."
Simon wondered at the foolhardiness of the man's words. "Are you drunk? Mad?" he questioned as
he gripped his sword tighter in his gloved hand. "Or merely too stupid to cherish life?"
"None of those things, my lord."
"Good. I'd hate to kill a drunken man. There's no sport in it."
"We are under the Peace of God," Gilbert reminded him again.
"Aye," Simon agreed. He decided to inform this pup who prided himself on his worldliness about the
treachery and shifting needs of court politics. "Father Raymond of Chartres, the king's favorite priest, has
offered me your life if I can take it, in exchange for my aiding the King of France against Henry
Plantagenet. That's why I've come to Paris," Simon added. "Do you want me to kill him, Felice?" he
asked his daughter as Gilbert moved closer to her.
He hoped the girl hadn't developed any fond feeling for the man, since Simon intended to kill Gilbert
for Diane's sake, no matter what his daughter answered.