Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress. Carol Townend

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СКАЧАТЬ Was it the counterfeiters his friend Raphael had mentioned? He couldn’t think what else it might be.

      ‘When will André be back?’ he asked.

      ‘I’ve no idea. We shall have to ask Vivienne. Sometimes he—’ Elise broke off, frowning.

      Gawain followed her gaze and then he was frowning too. A sword lay on the bed, half-obscured by gowns and baby linens. A sword? Vivienne must have unearthed it from the bowels of her trunk and in her haste she hadn’t put it away.

      ‘Whatever’s that doing here?’ Elise freed her hand and picked it up.

      The sword had a leather scabbard that was black with age. It made a scraping sound as she drew it. The sword looked old. Antique. The blade was dull, but a large red stone flashed in the pommel of the hilt.

      ‘It’s very heavy,’ she added, looking at him. ‘Heavier than yours.’

      Gawain’s stomach tightened. After the All Hallows Tournament she had expressed an interest in his arms and he remembered explaining how damascened swords were forged. It shouldn’t please him that she remembered too, but it did. Sad to say, the pleasure of that memory was pushed aside by his growing disquiet. What the devil was this sword doing in Elise’s pavilion?

      There was a slight scrape as she pushed it back into its scabbard. With a shrug, she dropped it back on to the bedroll. ‘André told me he’d met up with a troupe of players,’ she said. ‘Old friends, apparently. They must have left it behind.’

      Mind working, Gawain grunted. He was trying to remember exactly what Raphael had told him in the Black Boar. A man had been arrested for attempting to trade a fake relic. No, not a relic, a crown. Raphael had also mentioned rumours of someone making a replica of Excalibur. They were thought to be attempting to pass it off as having once belonged to the legendary King Arthur. The idea had seemed so unlikely, Gawain had hardly heard him.

      Could this be that sword?

      If someone was about to fool some idiot into parting with good money for a counterfeit sword, Raphael would have to be told. Gawain couldn’t keep something like this from the Captain of the Guardian Knights, not when he knew Count Henry had asked the Guardians to watch out for suspicious goings-on in Strangers’ City.

      ‘I’d like to look at that,’ he said, holding out his hand.

      With a shrug, Elise retrieved it and passed it over.

      Gawain’s brows shot up as he drew the sword and tested the weight for himself. ‘You’re right, it is heavy. Clumsy.’ He ran his thumb along the edge—it was startlingly keen. ‘It has a surprisingly good edge.’

      Brown eyes found his. ‘Gawain, what’s bothering you?’

      He continued examining the sword. Trying the weight, shifting back to give it a swing. He looked at the pommel. Lord, that yellow metal looked very like gold. And the stone...

      ‘It’s a garnet,’ he said. He could hear the surprise in his voice. ‘A genuine garnet.’

      A crease formed on her brow. ‘It’s not real, Gawain. It can’t be.’

      ‘It belongs to some players, you say?’

      ‘André said he saw the players shortly after we arrived in Troyes. I can’t think where else it might have come from.’

      Gawain stared at the garnet in the pommel with a heavy heart. The more he looked at the sword, the more uneasy he became. He couldn’t keep this to himself. It might well belong to a troupe of players, but Raphael would have to be told about it. He didn’t want to believe that Elise was involved with counterfeiters, but it was beginning to look as though her friends might be. ‘This sword doesn’t feel right,’ he said. ‘The balance is skewed and the blade is a horror, but because of the hilt and the gem it’s worth a fair bit.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘It can’t be! It’s a stage sword—just a prop.’

      He gave her a direct look. ‘A man might kill for the garnet alone. And if the hilt is gold...’ Gawain let the silence stretch out, well aware that what he was about to do would damn him in her eyes. Which was a pity. He liked Elise and he wanted her to think well of him when they parted. He shoved the sword back into the scabbard with a snap. ‘Ask Vivienne to step inside, would you? I need to speak to her.’

      Elise blinked. Gawain’s voice had changed. It was clipped and curt. Military. Thankfully he was distracted from Pearl, but he looked so serious. ‘Gawain, what’s the matter?’

      ‘I need to speak to Vivienne.’

      Elise searched his face. It was closed. Unreceptive. ‘Vivienne, would you come in for a moment?’

      Vivienne came in with the babies. Pearl was whimpering so Elise took her and draped her over her shoulder. Gawain looked so stern that despite the heat of the day, a chill ran through her.

      Vivienne glanced at the sword in Gawain’s hand. She bobbed into a curtsy, deposited Bruno into his cot and stepped forward with her hand out. ‘I’ll put that away, shall I, my lord?’

      Slowly Gawain shook his head. ‘I’ll hang on to it, thank you,’ he said, voice like ice.

      ‘But, my lord—’

      Elise rubbed Pearl’s back.

      Gawain took a deep breath. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Vivienne. ‘I’d like you to tell me what a sword like this is doing in your belongings. A sword the hilt of which is, if I am not mistaken, pure gold.’ An eyebrow lifted as he touched the garnet. ‘And this gemstone is genuine. The setting is really very good.’

      Vivienne’s mouth worked. ‘I don’t know much about it, mon seigneur. It belongs to a friend of André’s. I think he wants to sell it.’

      ‘And the name of this friend, if you please?’

      Vivienne stood there, opening and shutting her mouth. Elise put her hand on Gawain’s sleeve. ‘Gawain, there’s no need to bark at Vivienne. You’re frightening her.’

      He looked at her, eyes stony. ‘I’m merely asking questions.’

      ‘You’re frightening her.’

      ‘If she has done nothing wrong, she has nothing to fear.’ He turned back to Vivienne. ‘The name of your friend, madame?’

      ‘I...I’ve forgotten.’

      ‘How convenient. Do you think André might know?’

      Vivienne made a little moaning noise. Or it could have been Bruno, Elise wasn’t sure. Bruno was definitely stirring. A little fist was moving about in his cot.

      Gawain’s frown scored heavy lines in his brow. ‘What does André call himself when he’s performing?’

      ‘André de Poitiers.’

      ‘Do you think he will recall the name of the friend to whom this belongs?’

      ‘Most likely, my lord.’ Bruno started to wail. Vivienne looked distractedly СКАЧАТЬ