a fiancée, and a goal to accomplish. "Save it for your priest. And you know damned well that even if he can get married, he's not supposed to be looking at you that way."
"Ah, well. I imagine the religious life is a great temptation for men and women who enjoy their own sex. Close-knit communities of one's own kind, a certain amount of seclusion from the world—"
"Wait." Dean sat up straight. "Did you say 'men and women'? Women.. .with women?"
Rob laughed. "That's never occurred to you?"
"Well, no."
"Believe me, it happens. Easier to hide, too—no one turns a hair when two spinsters set up house together to save expense. And then, of course—"
Dean groaned. "Don't tell me: Discreet young gentlewoman sought as companion for mature widow. You know, Rob, I've lost
a certain amount of innocence since making your acquaintance."
"Well, if you ever want to lose a little more..."
"Shut up. What on earth do they do together?"
"Women with women?" Rob again tilted his head skyward, shading his eyes with one hand as he watched a falcon circle above the cathedral. "How would I know? I'm not all that clear on what they do with men."
"You've never been with a woman? Not even once?"
"No."
"Then how do you know you wouldn't like it?"
Rob sat up and looked at him, dark eyes sparkling. "Well, you've never been with a man. How do you know you wouldn't like that?"
Dean could feel his shoulders tighten, and a betraying heat spread up from his neck. "I'm not—it's not that I ever—but—" He broke off, wrapping his arms around his knees.
"Oho," Rob crowed. "That's a rather guilty expression, my Lord Carwick."
His face got even hotter. "There was this boy at school." "There frequently is, from what I've heard. Go on—how far did it go?"
"Well, not very! We didn't—I mean, we... Oh, hell." Dean laughed. It was a relief to tell someone. "Just touched each other some, with a bit of rubbing together. We didn't even like each other that much. He'd torment me mercilessly all day: calling me names, kicking me, stealing my sweets, stomping my books into the mud. That sort of thing. But almost every night, as soon as the lights were out, there he'd be, crawling under the covers again."
"So I'd have better luck with you if I kicked you more?" Rob leaned toward him, grinning.
Dean put up a hand, palm out. "I'm sure it's good for business to keep your flirting skills in practice," he said primly. "But I do wish you wouldn't waste them on me. I do have a fiancée, you know. Or I will as soon as we get to Bath and clear this whole mess up."
"Miss Lewis. Will you tell me about her? I like romantic stories." Rob sounded wistful, and Dean shifted uncomfortably.
"Maybe later. Come on, we should get back on the road. We've wasted enough time as it is."
Rob got to his feet with grace and extended a long-fingered hand to help Dean up.
His grasp was warm, and strong. "The weather's beautiful, and the days are still long.
We'll make it up."
Dean hesitated. "Then we have time for a quick bite to eat before we go. Climbing up here made me hungry, and we can hardly leave Gloucester without seeing the New Inn."
"A new inn? And I thought you were showing me all the historical sites."
Dean smiled. "Not that new. Lady Jane Grey was staying there when she was proclaimed queen. And...you'll never guess."
Rob grinned. "She haunts the place still?"
"Of course she does."
The New Inn was impressively old, built around a central medieval courtyard that had seen a century's use before Queen Jane began her nine-days reign there in 1553.
Located in Northgate Street, the establishment bustled with trade from the London-Gloucester coach route. Still, the landlady, Mrs. Austin, took the time to show them around the inn. A hearty older woman with carefully-arranged white curls, she must have told her stories a thousand times, but her voice was colored with the enjoyment of a good tale.
"This here is the Queen's Suite," she said, her voice low and
"Ah, well. I imagine the religious life is a great temptation for men and women who enjoy their own sex. Close-knit communities of one's own kind, a certain amount of seclusion from the world—"
"Wait." Dean sat up straight. "Did you say 'men and women'? Women.. .with women?"
Rob laughed. "That's never occurred to you?"
"Well, no."
"Believe me, it happens. Easier to hide, too—no one turns a hair when two spinsters set up house together to save expense. And then, of course—"
Dean groaned. "Don't tell me: Discreet young gentlewoman sought as companion for mature widow. You know, Rob, I've lost
a certain amount of innocence since making your acquaintance."
"Well, if you ever want to lose a little more..."
"Shut up. What on earth do they do together?"
"Women with women?" Rob again tilted his head skyward, shading his eyes with one hand as he watched a falcon circle above the cathedral. "How would I know? I'm not all that clear on what they do with men."
"You've never been with a woman? Not even once?"
"No."
"Then how do you know you wouldn't like it?"
Rob sat up and looked at him, dark eyes sparkling. "Well, you've never been with a man. How do you know you wouldn't like that?"
Dean could feel his shoulders tighten, and a betraying heat spread up from his neck. "I'm not—it's not that I ever—but—" He broke off, wrapping his arms around his knees.
"Oho," Rob crowed. "That's a rather guilty expression, my Lord Carwick."
His face got even hotter. "There was this boy at school." "There frequently is, from what I've heard. Go on—how far did it go?"
"Well, not very! We didn't—I mean, we... Oh, hell." Dean laughed. It was a relief to tell someone. "Just touched each other some, with a bit of rubbing together. We didn't even like each other that much. He'd torment me mercilessly all day: calling me names, kicking me, stealing my sweets, stomping my books into the mud. That sort of thing. But almost every night, as soon as the lights were out, there he'd be, crawling under the covers again."
"So I'd have better luck with you if I kicked you more?" Rob leaned toward him, grinning.
Dean put up a hand, palm out. "I'm sure it's good for business to keep your flirting skills in practice," he said primly. "But I do wish you wouldn't waste them on me. I do have a fiancée, you know. Or I will as soon as we get to Bath and clear this whole mess up."
"Miss Lewis. Will you tell me about her? I like romantic stories." Rob sounded wistful, and Dean shifted uncomfortably.
"Maybe later. Come on, we should get back on the road. We've wasted enough time as it is."
Rob got to his feet with grace and extended a long-fingered hand to help Dean up.
His grasp was warm, and strong. "The weather's beautiful, and the days are still long.
We'll make it up."
Dean hesitated. "Then we have time for a quick bite to eat before we go. Climbing up here made me hungry, and we can hardly leave Gloucester without seeing the New Inn."
"A new inn? And I thought you were showing me all the historical sites."
Dean smiled. "Not that new. Lady Jane Grey was staying there when she was proclaimed queen. And...you'll never guess."
Rob grinned. "She haunts the place still?"
"Of course she does."
The New Inn was impressively old, built around a central medieval courtyard that had seen a century's use before Queen Jane began her nine-days reign there in 1553.
Located in Northgate Street, the establishment bustled with trade from the London-Gloucester coach route. Still, the landlady, Mrs. Austin, took the time to show them around the inn. A hearty older woman with carefully-arranged white curls, she must have told her stories a thousand times, but her voice was colored with the enjoyment of a good tale.
"This here is the Queen's Suite," she said, her voice low and
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