"Do you mean the men or the women?" he asked with no levity in his voice. "Is temptation the sin or is it only when we give in to it and commit the trespass?"
Margriet turned now to look at him, not trusting her judgment that he did not jest in his question. His face, outlined by moonbeams, appeared stern and serious, but she had the deep sensation that this was a different side of him than he showed to most. Recalling the lessons of the convent, ones she'd failed in the last few months, she repeated Mother Ingrid's words to him.
"If temptation is offered apurpose to draw someone in to sin, then the tempter sins as well as the one who falls."
He leaned in closer and whispered, "And if the tempter knows not what they do?"
Memories assailed her, images of Finn and his soft words and touches that drew her along a path to her own sin. Now thinking on it, she behaved with him the same way the men behaved with the harlots at the inn. He enticed her, making her want more, making her want things she did not know possible between a man and woman, things best kept from innocents with no defenses. Then he taught her to respond to his call, whether it was his touch or his voice or the love he offered her.
Oh, aye, she'd fallen hard and fast into the sins of lust and fornication. Calling it love, calling it temptation, did not change its true nature … or her own. It was a sin and she'd trespassed greatly.
Tears gathered in her eyes and she blinked to hide them from him. This realization, how much alike she was to the men inside clamoring for what the women offered, and how much like the women, clamoring to give their virtue away, hurt deeply. She would be called "whore" when her condition was known, proving her sin to one and all.
"Sin is sin," she answered back, without the true conviction that a daughter of the church should have.
Did she know the temptation she offered, just by standing and speaking? With every movement of her hands or every step she took, she called to something inside him, something that should know better than to answer. But answer it did, and the desire for her grew with each day.
His plan to befriend her failed only moments after he'd decided upon it. His years of appreciating women, and all they offered, had taken his control and crushed it cruelly, making him consider that it was an apparition and never truly there at all. Rurik did not know which was worse, which more a threat to him and to her-the enticement of her flashing eyes, soft bow mouth and womanly curves, or the pain that lashed through her now.
When she lifted her head and he caught sight of the tears that filled her eyes, he searched them for the truth-what could Gunnar's daughter know of sin? Her life, at least the part of her life when her conduct was her own, had been in a convent, sheltered from the worst life had to offer. Yet, pain seeped into her voice as she spoke and into every part of her that he could behold.
Rurik felt his own pain well up inside him. The rejection by his father and the insult to his mother's honor brought about by his birth and their life stung and made him recognize something in her gaze. Something he wanted to ease and to soothe and to warn away. He forgot himself in that moment. He forgot what she was and all the reasons why he should not touch her.
He leaned down to touch his lips to hers, just as he'd been craving to do since the first time he'd glimpsed her beauty and felt the desire rise within him. Rurik slid his finger under her chin and tilted hers higher so that he could taste the mouth that drew him in.
"Temptation is temptation, Rurik," she whispered.
He heard the words and felt them, too, since his lips were nearly touching hers now. Then her hand slid up and pressed against his chest, stopping him from moving that last fraction of distance between them. He ached to taste her now, especially now that he could feel her breath on his face and smell the scent that was hers alone. His manhood swelled and he shifted closer to her as his whole body throbbed in readiness.
And then he did taste her lips and he felt her surprise as he touched his lips to those that bedeviled him in his sleep and all his waking hours, too. If she had pulled back, Rurik would have stopped himself, but when she pressed against him, he slid his tongue along her lips until she opened to him. He released his hold on her chin and slid his hands down to grasp her shoulders-steadying him or her he knew not. He only knew that she was as delectable and enticing as he suspected she would be.
Rurik tilted his head and covered her mouth completely with his, dipping his tongue now in the heat of it, hearing and feeling her gasp as he continued his invasion. Not willing to retreat or relent, he played now with her tongue, drawing it forward and sucking on it gently. Margriet softened against him, and he took it for permission to deepen the kiss.
Using every bit of persuasion he'd ever learned in loving women, Rurik teased her mouth while he pulled her closer. Lifting his mouth only long enough to draw in a ragged breath and to allow her one, he possessed her once more … and then again … and again. He reached up slowly, not willing to disturb the growing passion, and slipped his hand under her veil. Tangling in her hair, he began to unravel the braids he found, when she suddenly stepped from his embrace.
Rurik met her desire-filled gaze and smiled at her, reeling from the very taste and scent of her. Margriet shook her head and looked away.
"I cannot."
The words, spoken almost too low to be heard, were like a battle cry to his ears. Her words had vibrated against his lips before, but this time he heard them and they were words he could not ignore. As if to confirm that this was unseemly at the least and sacrilege at the worst, Sven's voice called out through the silence. Her hand remained on his chest until that moment, when she reached up and touched her lips.
Sven broke through the trees and whether 'twas Rurik's action or hers, Rurik stepped away from Margriet so quickly that she stumbled. When he reached out to steady her, his hand slipped, knocking her away. Putting some distance between them was a good thing, but what was not was that Margriet stood on the edge of the stream. His slight push was enough to send her stumbling off balance and off the uneven ground and into the water.
Sven yelled.
Rurik yelled louder.
And Margriet screamed as the icy water sucked her down under its surface.
Chapter Ten
When he grabbed for her, all he could reach was the end of her habit, which tore as he held it fast. A glimpse of naked legs was more than the situation needed at this moment and Rurik cursed under his breath as Margriet flailed about in the water.
Sven arrived at his side and Rurik unbuckled his scabbard and jumped into the water after her. The stream's current was much stronger than it appeared from the edge and he found that it moved both of them rapidly away from where Sven stood, his mouth agape, watching them as they floated downstream.
It took some effort, but Rurik was finally able to take ahold of Margriet and plant his feet in a shallow enough place to stop them from moving farther away. The darkness made it more difficult to judge how and where to move. And so did Margriet's struggles against the water, her heavy clothing and his hold.
"Stay still or I will lose my grasp," he warned, waiting for his men to reach them.
"You pushed me!" she accused as she also fought the wimple and veil that now covered most of her face.
"You slipped," he said through clenched jaws.
They were surrounded by help just then so her arguing ceased. He handed her across to Sven and Magnus, who pulled her out of the water. Standing on the bank as he climbed out, she looked like an old dog dragged in from a storm. Margriet glared at him, an action ruined by the chattering teeth and shivering of her body in reaction to the very cold water and the cool night's air.
"Sister," Donald said, "what happened to you?" He took a blanket one of the others held out and tossed it around her shoulders.
"I slipped."
"She slipped."
They offered the explanation at the same time and, if the vehemence of it belied the truth, no one said a thing to dispute their words. Looking from one to another of his men, Rurik knew some had their doubts about what had happened when he followed the nuns from the inn and only one returned with Sven.
"Sven? Sister Elspeth?" he asked, drawing attention to something other than this.
"She is safely back at the inn. Harald made ready the upstairs room for the sisters as you asked and promised to send up food when Sister Margriet returns."