His sister squeezed his shoulder. “I shall do everything I can, William.” She would earn the prioress’s disfavor by giving aid to this woman, but threats of retribution wouldn’t stop Christina from doing what was right—which was one of the many qualities he appreciated about her.
Will stood and straightened his shoulders with renewed determination. “Have no fear. Ere I depart, I shall ensure your safety along with that of your patient. No harm will befall either of you.”
Christina nodded but was working to divest the woman of her habit. She’d pulled the loose-fitting garment away from the woman’s back, revealing numerous purple and blue welts. At the sight, an oath slipped from Will’s mouth. “Saint’s blood.”
The marks crisscrossed the pale, beautiful skin all the way down to the low dip at the base of her spine. Even with the swollen discoloration marring her back, the outline of her form was exquisite and womanly and showed her to be very desirable.
Christina tugged the habit lower toward the woman’s buttocks but stopped and peered up at Will pointedly. “I shall be able to tend her wounds more efficiently with privacy.”
He averted his gaze and backed out of the room into the hallway, fighting a wave of embarrassment. He hadn’t been interested in any woman since Alice died two years ago. As much as his mother had encouraged him to remarry, as much as Lord Percy had pressured him for a union with his youngest daughter, he’d rebuffed their endeavors, claiming he was yet in mourning.
Not that he’d had a close relationship with Alice, since he’d been gone to war for most of their ten years of marriage. But she’d been good to him whenever he’d been home, and she’d been an excellent mother to his sons. He had no complaints about her.
Nonetheless, he hadn’t grieved her loss the way a better man would have. He could blame his lack of remorse on his distress over what had happened with Thomas. But the truth was, he’d never known Alice well enough to miss her in life or death.
He wouldn’t deny he had carnal needs like every other male. But he abhorred the practice of pillaging and raping after a battle as many of his companions were wont to do. Even with the availability of poor French wenches in every town and village who were willing to sell themselves, he always resisted the urge, no matter how strong.
He gave a curt shake of his head and stepped farther from the cell and the beautiful red-haired woman. The problem was that it had been too long since he’d allowed himself to think about a woman. And now his urges were causing strange dreams and desires. In fact, the dreams of this woman had been so realistic that at times he’d even felt her touch.
Maybe he needed to finally consider taking a new wife. Before he went mad altogether.
At the pad of footsteps from the next hallway, he tensed and braced himself for confrontation. Within a moment, Prioress Margery rounded the corner, a number of nuns trailing behind her.
Keen dislike pierced him as it did whenever he was required to speak with this woman. He spread his feet slightly and crossed his arms.
“Sir William.” She halted in front of him and dipped her head in deference. Her retinue paused a dozen feet behind her, keeping heads down and hands hidden. When the prioress raised her eyes, they contained a disdain she’d never been able to hide, likely because he’d intervened on Christina’s behalf in the past.
“Shall we step outside, sire?” She motioned toward the door at the end of the hallway.
Although she was tactfully suggesting that he remove his presence from the convent, he didn’t budge. “You will cease the discipline of Lady Marian.”
The old nun’s lips pursed together, her fleshy jowls shaking.
Will lowered his voice to the volume he used to incite fear. “If I discover you have brought further harm to the lady in any form whatsoever, I shall report your abuse to the archbishop.” He wanted to threaten to do everything to her that she’d done to Lady Marian, but he bit back the clipped words. He wouldn’t harm a lady ever, not even a tyrant like the prioress.
“You will also allow Sister Christina to tend to Lady Marian until I retrieve her ladyship.” He knew naught about Lady Marian’s situation, where she’d come from, why she was at the priory, what her future plans were, or even if she needed retrieving. But the prioress didn’t need to know that.
The prioress’s small eyes gleamed sharply, but she lowered her head in a nod. As much as it pained the woman, she would do as he commanded. She had no other choice.
He spun on his heels and strode with firm footsteps down the corridor. He held himself rigidly, vowing to return within a sennight to check on his sister and Lady Marian. But as soon as he was mounted and riding again, he thrust all thoughts of the women from his mind. He had too many other concerns, too many battles, too many demons. And he didn’t need any more.
~ 13 ~
DESPERATION NEEDLED MARIAN AWAKE. She opened her eyes and pushed herself to her elbows on the pallet in the cold infirmary cell.
She’d been inside St. Sepulchre’s Priory for six days, which meant she had only one to go until Ellen checked the Canterbury Cathedral crypt for a supply of holy water.The last three days had passed quietly, with Sister Christina coming in to feed and tend her every couple of hours. It had been blissfully uneventful compared to the first three days of her stay . . .
Marian shuddered with such force it sent pain shooting through her bruised body from where she’d been beaten across her shoulders and back. And not just one beating. But two.
Of course, when they came for her a second time, she disclosed where she’d hidden the pouch of coins. But even after she informed the prioress, they marched her out to the courtyard and beat her anyway.
After they tossed her back into her cell, she lay on the floor, hardly able to swallow the sips of water Sister Christina gave her. She wasn’t even able to lift her head to look at the cross on the wall. All she could do was pray she’d make it out of the living nightmare of 1381.
When the nuns arrived at her cell on the third afternoon, she wasn’t able to resist as she had previously. She was too weak and passed in and out of consciousness as they hauled her into the yard and hooked her to the post.
It was only then she understood the magnitude of what she’d done by coming to the past. She’d been stupid to think she could handle being in a time so foreign to her own, when rulers like the prioress wielded unrestricted power, when justice wasn’t always served, when corporal punishment was unrestrained, when women lacked the same rights as men, especially a foreign woman abandoned by her family—which is what they assumed of her.
How naïve she’d been to believe she could save her dad when she couldn’t even save herself.
While she hung on the post waiting for her third beating, she’d braced herself for the first blow across her back but was suddenly cut loose. The next thing she knew, strong arms were carrying her. The touch was so gentle, so careful.
Nevertheless, she passed out again only to awake with his face above hers and those intense blue eyes peering down at her. Certain she was delirious, she reached out to touch him, to thank him, and he felt so real. The stubble on his cheeks was scruffy, the strength of his jaw hard against her hand.
Had she only dreamed him? Or had he been there?