Heaven's Fire by Patricia Ryan

attractive...”
    Laughter bubbled up from her. He laughed as well, marveling in the feel of it as it shook his chest, the sound of it, blending with hers.
    He reached out and tried to wipe the mud off her face with his fingers, but that only made it worse.
    “Do you have a bathtub in that wonderful big house of yours?” she asked.
    “I do indeed. Would you like to go first?”
    “You can. I’d rather eat first.”
    “It’ll be cooked to the bottom of the pot by now.”
    “I’ll eat it anyway,” she said.
    “As you wish.” With a light hand on her arm, he turned her around and guided her back in the direction from which they had come.
    *   *   *
    The man called Pigot watched from a narrow, unlit alley as the ex-priest and the dark-haired youth walked back up St. John Street and disappeared into the enormous house.
    So... the Magister Scholarum of Oxford likes boys . Then why, Pigot wondered, had he appeared so grief-stricken at the grave of the old rector’s young mistress? Perhaps he was one of those whose passions encompassed both sexes.
    Even so, he mused, a man like Rainulf Fairfax could do better than a whore like Constance of Cuxham. And not just a whore, but a tricky one—devious, deceitful, cunning. How well he knew her kind. He could teach her a lesson or two, he and his steel.
    But first he had to find her. His instincts told him to keep a close watch on Master Rainulf Fairfax, because sooner or later, she would come to him...
    And Pigot’s instincts had never failed him yet.
     
     

 
     

Chapter 5
     
     
    Corliss woke up slowly, surrounded by softness.
    I’m in a cloud , she thought dreamily, her eyes still closed. I’m in Heaven.
    Heaven smelled lovely, like fresh laundry hung out to dry in fragrant breezes. It sounded like the giggly, careless chattering of birds. And it glowed with a rapturous golden light that she could see even through her closed eyelids, a light that surrounded her, soothed her, warmed her...
    If I open my eyes, ‘twill all be gone . For long, peaceful moments she lay motionless, cocooned in her golden paradise. Gradually a sense of wakefulness—of reality—stole upon her, yet the birds still laughed and sang, the light still glowed.
    “Ah,” she breathed, remembering where she was.
    Opening her eyes, she saw morning sunlight sifting through the saffron damask of the drawn bed curtains, illuminating the space they enclosed—as sizable as a small room—with extraordinary yellow light. This is my bed now , she thought with an awestruck grin. My bed! Mine alone! She yawned and stretched like a contented cat, then lay still, remembering last night, after she had fled and Master Fairfax— Rainulf —had brought her back.
    The first thing he’d done—thank a merciful God!— had been to cut her a thick slice of bread and heap it high with fish stew. While she ate her fill, much too quickly, he set up a wooden tub in front of the fireplace and put a pot of water on to boil. They took turns bathing, shielded from each other’s view by a portable screen, then sat at the table and talked well into the night.
    They talked about her plans to find work as an illuminator. Rainulf told her everything he knew about Catte Street, where most of Oxford’s books were produced. They talked about this small walled city and the changes it was undergoing, with the recent influx of scholars and masters. They talked about teaching, and how troubling it had become for Rainulf; about the chancellorship he so desperately wanted, and the necessity for his remaining celibate in order to secure it.
    So you see, Corliss, he had reassured her, you’re perfectly safe with me. I would never jeopardize this opportunity by making you my... trying to make you my...
    Mistress?
    He’d looked away quickly, nodding . Not even in secret. Discretion is pointless. The truth is very stubborn, and people always discover it. I’ve seen more than one churchman stripped of his position—ruined—over a