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laugh and attempted to entwine her arms around his neck. "And why not? I thought that in the morning we could—"
    "No! I will have to attend upon my grandfather. He did not look well when he retired from your table this evening."
    "So? You are not a physician. And I have seen to the old man's comfort. I gave up my own chamber for his use. Of course I thought I would be sleeping elsewhere." Her wide red lips curved into a pretty pout. She tried to kiss him, but Jaufre pried himself free and pushed her away.
    "Out!"
    Finette gasped and drew herself to a kneeling position on the bed. Even in the dying firelight, Jaufre could see her large breasts swaying with her indignation. "You forget whom you are addressing. I am a noblewoman, not some peasant girl you have carted off for a romp in the fields."
    "I do not share my bed with any woman, noble or otherwise." He fingered the long white scar running from the base of his neck down to the region of his heart. A legacy from his beautiful departed Yseult and a permanent warning of the dangers of sleeping too soundly with a woman nearby.
    "Come, Finette," he said softly. "The mating is done and we are both satisfied. I bid you good night."
    "Remember whose castle this is, sirrah. When you are under my roof, you do not give me commands. I sleep where I choose." Finette tossed her head and flung herself back down onto the feather mattress. Jaufre regarded her for a moment and then raised one foot against her exposed rump and shoved. She tumbled out of bed in a welter of sheets, furs, and pillow.
    Legs and arms flailing, she straggled to her feet, plucking the straw rushes from her hair, her eyes spitting fury. "English pig! I will scream to bring the rafters down. You—you take advantage of a lonely widow, despoil my honor, rape me!"
    "If we are going to speak of rape, it was you who came in here and straddled yourself over top of me when all I wanted was a good night's rest." Jaufre got out of bed and draped the discarded sheet around his midsection. While Finette continued to rail at him, he went to a large chest lodged near the health and opened it.
    "I will demand satisfaction for this insult. Do not think that I will not."
    "Here is your satisfaction." Jaufre pulled a silver brooch from the chest and flung it at her. It landed near her feet, the brilliant gemstones winking through the darkness.
    Finette glanced down at it and paused a moment, licking her lips. "You—you dog. Do you take me for a whore to be paid thus?" She snatched up her chemise and gown and yanked the garments over her head. " Tis you who will pay for this night—with your blood."
    "Ah, yes, I forgot. I have heard it said you prefer to be paid in coin when your honor is offended," Jaufre drawled. "I am afraid I have better use for my money. You will have to be content with the brooch."
    "Auggh!" Finette heaved her pillow at him, but he caught it easily and dropped it onto the bed. "Now I see why your wife tried to kill you. When she scarred that chest of yours, she scarred your heart as well."
    "You are mistaken, my lady," he said icily. "I have no heart."
    She sucked in a deep breath, and her fingers curled as if she were about to spring at him. Jaufre tensed for the attack, but she apparently thought better of it. Still muttering curses, she tossed her head and whirled to leave. The dignity of her exit was marred when she dipped down at the last moment to retrieve the brooch before she quit the chamber. As he had known she would.
    Jaufre's lips curved into a cynical smile. Was there any woman—or man, for that matter—who would not sell his honor a dozen times over for less than he had offered Finette? Reaching into the chest, he caught up a handful of silver coins and allowed the cold metal pieces to trickle between his fingers.
    He'd seen greed win out time and again. Even with Richard Coeur de Lion, with whom Jaufre had traveled as a boy on the Crusades. Had the mighty Lion's Heart died stinking down the