She wished she had some confidante with whom she could share her worries and fears and her hopes. Certainly the nuns at the convent were not about to listen to her stories of love and virtue surrendered. Even when she spoke to the cook, a woman who had borne five children, she could not bring herself to mention matters of the heart, for she was of a noble family and her father's status was one of honor and high standing and …
And she should have known better than to lie with a man outside the bounds of holy matrimony.
Apparently, the extensive education she'd received in the language arts, mathematics and even some topics thought unnecessary for a woman did not prepare her for the emotional onslaught of a charming, handsome, rich young man intent on pursuing passion. So long ignored by family so far from home, she'd lost the ability for all logical reasoning when faced with his pledges of love and promises of a future together.
Finn answered all her questions about the world outside the walls of the convent and made her feel important and loved for the first time since before her mother died and she'd been exiled here. And if she'd been a little infatuated or had not seen the folly in her actions, well, she could understand it now as she looked back on those magical days.
Margriet rolled to her side and tucked her hand under her cheek. Remembering the thrill of passion in his touch and in his kisses, she felt her lips tingle and her core pulse with life and heat. How could she have resisted when he did things she'd never known could happen between a man and woman? Even now, when doubts raced through her, her body responded to just the memories of it.
Men were truly strange creatures-honorable when it suited their purposes, strong when they must be and subtle when guile worked over force. They did not think as a woman thought or expect the same things in life as a woman wanted and needed. Watching the men who escorted her now, Margriet could see more of the differences between men and women and also among the group of men. With her only exposure to the opposite gender being those men who lived on the convent grounds-old ones, blind ones, crippled ones-seeing these young, healthy, hardy, muscular warriors afeared of nothing and no one gave her pause.
So, could she not be forgiven for not having that understanding and wisdom when she'd met Finn to realize the kind of man he was? Surely the Almighty would consider it even if her father did not?
The pitiful ache in her stomach grew as she felt the doubt grow inside. Each thought and memory brought with it recognition and revelation … and guilt and shame. Reaching in her bag, she took some of the herbs and tucked them inside her cheek, waiting for them to soften so she could chew on them. She brushed away the tears that flowed and tried to quiet the upset within her.
Margriet was not accustomed to self-pity and she blamed this bout of it on her exhaustion and her fears. Torn from the only place she remembered as her home and taken back to people and places she could not recall, 'twas no wonder she was falling victim to such doubts and terrors.
Just when she calmed herself down with some deep breaths, shouting broke the silence of the night. She sat up and began to reach for the flap when the guard spoke. He must have heard her rustling around in the tent.
"Just some of the men in the river, sisters. Naught to worry about." Leathen, one of the Scottish men in the group, chuckled then. "Apparently your mishap gave them an idea."
"My thanks for watching over us, Leathen," she said. Then, for good measure, she added in a solemn tone, "May God bless you."
Hopefully, the man did not hear Elspeth's giggle, muffled by the blanket she held over her mouth as she did so. So, the girl did not yet sleep, either. As though hearing her thoughts, Elspeth whispered softly, "All will be well, Lady Margriet."
It was the girl's gentle patting of Margriet's hand that gave her comfort, and finally she lay back down and fell to sleep.
'Twas when the lantern light threw her shadow on the side of the tent that Rurik knew he was losing the battle once more.
His body gave him all kinds of messages and warnings as he watched the silhouette undress before him. He did not need to see inside-his mind filled with images of his own making. Having helped her onto and down from her horse, watched her walk and then seen the garments plastered to her skin by the weight of the water, he did not need to see the reality in order to imagine how the feminine curves of her body would appear.
Ripe breasts that would fill his hands.
Hips wide enough to bear children.
Muscular but soft thighs to open in welcome to him.
He cursed then, in a low grumbling voice, letting out some of his frustration, not at what he saw but at what he allowed himself to imagine. Stepping back from the tent, he motioned to Sven and Magnus to follow. Then he walked back toward the river, flinging the soaking wet garments over various bushes as he passed them. If they landed in the dirt, he knew not, for he did not dare to pause when his desire was so strong.
Rurik reached the riverbank and stopped only long enough to remove his weapons and boots, breeches and tunic, before diving into the deepest area of the river. Luckily, the cold water did exactly what he needed it to do, so that when Sven and Magnus joined him, there was no evidence of his unholy urges.
They dove and surfaced, letting the cold water cool them for several minutes before Rurik finally swam to one of the rocks that was submerged at the river's edge. Sitting on it, he reclined mostly under the water. After the others followed, he spoke.
"Why did you allow her in the river?" he asked, rubbing his face. "Did she tell you of her plan?"
"Her plan?" Magnus asked, looking from one to the other.
"Aye, her fall was no accident," Sven admitted. "They asked if they could step in the water to cool their feet. What could I have done?"
"Said nay?" Rurik offered.
"There was no sign of danger and it seemed like such a little thing, so I said aye." Sven laughed. "I knew they were plotting something when they put their heads together as they removed their shoes. So, when Sister Margriet fell, I knew the other would also."
Sven swam away from the rocks now and dove back under the water. This water was cold, but they were all used to much colder, for they'd all swum in the sea at home. Rurik considered that Margriet's plan was a good one to relieve the heat of the day. At least he was not covered from foot to head in swaddlinglike garments and could simply remove his cloak when too hot. Not like the women-the nuns-who must, for decency's sake, remain covered. When Sven returned to the river's edge, Rurik thought it best to warn him.
"Do not be cajoled or misled from any order I give, Sven. Not even when the young one teaches you a new word or smiles at you."
Sven batted Magnus's arm and then met Rurik's gaze. "And I could warn you of the same thing with the other. You devour her with your every look."
He lunged without thinking, grabbing Sven by the throat and taking him down under the water. Sven did not make it easy, not with his words or actions, for the struggle went on until neither could hold their breath any longer. Gasping as they rose from the water, Rurik released him and flung himself aside to gain some distance and to gain some time to gather his control.
That Sven was right simply made it worse. That Rurik himself recognized his own weakness did not help. Now, with the words spoken, his lust for the nun would have to be acknowledged, at least among these friends.
"You saw her comely figure when she ran out without her habit on at the convent. That hair," he said, meeting Sven's gaze. "That face and body," he said, winking at Magnus. "But for her assurances that she has taken the veil, there is nothing about the woman that would declare her a nun."
And he realized that the problem had begun then, in that very moment when he'd seen her as a woman. Her defiance and challenge to him as he carried out his duty and then her respectful capitulation added to the appeal. No matter though, he had never taken a woman against her will or dallied with those who were virgins or married and he would not begin to now. In spite of his body's urges to the contrary. After the others joined him in his moment of appreciation, he knew it was time to put this aside, both within himself and among them.
"Old habits die slowly and not without a fight," he said to both of them. "Since I have been old enough to have hairs on my … chin, I have loved women. Nun or no', Margriet Gunnarsdottir is a woman and some things-" he paused and threw a glance down to the part of him in the water "-have not a care about her vows. But, those vows and my duties to her father and mine are a line I will not cross."