Crispin Guest #04 - Troubled Bones by Jeri Westerson

Author:Jeri Westerson [Westerson, Jeri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2011-11-29T08:26:06+00:00

12

CRISPIN AWAKENED IN A strange bed, his face buried in long strands of brown hair. Hand resting on a plump, pink hip, he paused, thinking about it for a moment before he remembered. He snaked his hand around her thick waist and nuzzled the back of her neck. A female moan emerged from the cloud of hair, and she turned over to look him in the eye. She smiled and sighed lustily, stretching her arms up around his neck. “Crispin Guest,” she purred.

“Ah, so you remember me.”

“Very well indeed.”

“And you are Alyson, as I recall.”

“Mmm.”

“The both of us had a bit to drink last night.”

“We managed quite well anyway. Several times.”

He smiled. “So we did.”

“That’s why I prefer a younger man. More stamina! ‘Rejoice O young man, in thy youth!’ I shall never marry a man my age again. Only younger men.”

“‘Men’?”

“Five times a widow now, Crispin. I expect there will be more than one husband hence.”

He rolled to his back and pillowed his head in his intertwined fingers. “Perhaps you wear them out.”

She laughed. Her ample breasts shook and he watched them. “Perhaps I do.” She drew the blankets to cover her chest and propped herself against the wall. “But at least it takes our mind off our troubles, if only for a while.”

“Yes.” He shifted upward and leaned against the wall beside her.

Her gaze was sympathetic. “Is this the normal course of things during an inquiry? This waiting. Searching. Worrying.”

He breathed deeply. “Yes. Especially when murder is involved. The culprit rarely confesses. And I must use all means and cunning to ferret him out.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you truly think the culprit is Sir Philip?”

He laid his head back against the wall and stared up at the beams. “I know he has something to do with it. Blood is on his hands, I am certain. As for the rest, I am puzzled.”

“The rest?”

Crispin nearly spoke of the missing relics but caught himself. He said nothing instead and let his lids fall closed.

“And what of your friend Chaucer?”

He snapped open his eyes. “Geoffrey,” he breathed. “I … I must arrest him when he shows himself again.”

“Arrest him? Lancaster’s poet? Whatever for?”

“Murder,” he growled.

Alyson shifted upward. “Murder?”

“Geoffrey’s dagger was found in the neck of Brother Wilfrid. He must face the sheriff and explain it.”

She leaned toward him. He felt her radiating warmth and all he wanted to do was sink down into the mattress again and wrap his limbs around her. The smell of their coupling was strong within the bestirred sheets. His eyes roved longingly over her bare, white shoulders and décolletage. “Do you believe he did it?” she asked softly.

“No. I can’t imagine it. But it was his knife. And he had the opportunity. And he is hiding something.” He stared at the blankets for a moment before he threw them off and stood up. He retrieved his stockings, still tied to his braies, and slipped them on one at a time, drawing them up.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.