Very discreetly, she reached into a pocket in her tunic and then put whatever was there in her mouth. He could almost feel her holding her breath as she chewed on something. And when she thought no one was looking, she poured most of the ale in her cup into Sister Elspeth's. Then, she took a small cloth square and wrapped the chunk of bread and wedge of cheese given her to break her fast in it. She covered her furtive movement by hiding the bundle in her pocket with her motion rising from her seat.
Rurik thought it interesting. She did not eat the food he provided, but hid it away for … what? Later? For someone else? Sister Elspeth ate her food, slowly and steadily, but every morsel and drop given her was consumed. She asked not for more, so he would think her contented by it. Sven called to him across their encampment and he strode over to him, pushing the questions aside to handle the more pressing needs of his duties.
A short time later, he glanced over to see the women being helped onto their horses and he caught a glimpse of the joy on her face when she noticed the extra blankets folded as padding to soften the effects of riding long hours. Her gaze moved to his without a moment's delay and he found himself once more contemplating the womanly curves of the one beneath the garb.
And as the corners of her mouth tilted up in a gentle smile, his breath stopped in his chest. But when she licked her lips and mouthed the words many thanks, his body shuddered and hardened so quickly he thought he'd been struck by Thor's Hammer.
He realized in that moment that this journey was fraught with dangers he'd never considered when he agreed to the task. What kind of a man would lose control over a nun?
Rurik gave the signal for everyone to mount up and, within minutes, they were moving away from the clearing and back into the forest. He allowed Sven to take the lead, preferring to lag behind and consider his irrational actions.
Lusting after a nun? Was he daft?
Mayhap too many years of loving women, for he did love women, had brought him to this? He'd loved and touched and lusted after every sort of woman since he arrived in Scotland and began his life with his uncle's people. Once awakened, his appetite grew.
In spite of the fact that his ancestors' history of going a-viking and taking property and women-whether willing or no'-had died long ago, he'd never bothered to correct those living under the protection of the MacLerie who still believed it. And since that reputation handed down through generations continued among them, Rurik had tried his best to live up to the expectations of those willing to be wooed.
'Twas said he rarely slept alone, but he never took a woman who did not wish to be taken and that was true. But, once her willingness was clear and consent given, there were no restraints between them.
Rurik took in a deep breath of cool, mountain air and let it out, watching the column of riders ahead of him moving down the worn path and remembering in that moment some of the best of times and the best of women in his past. A wave of sadness passed through him as Nara's image came to mind.
Regardless of his reputation and the wild stories told of his womanizing ways, when Rurik was with a woman who expected faithfulness, he was. He and Nara had been together for almost three years when his father's first call had come. Whether that was behind her leaving, he knew not. He'd shared with her alone the truth of his life with his father, and only kenned that, before his friends returned the second time, she left both him and Lairig Dubh behind to travel to her own family in a distant village.
As their time on the road passed and he allowed himself to wallow in these unfamiliar maudlin feelings, he noticed that Margriet now shifted on her mount and took something from her pocket. As she tried to adjust to the movements of the horse beneath her, the small bundle nearly went loose. Grabbing for it, she held it close and he could tell she ate it in small bites. If anyone glanced at her at that moment, they could not tell what she was doing. He knew.
He knew because nothing she did escaped his gaze.
Not a thing.
Not the way her mouth curved when she spoke.
Not the way her hand lightly touched the surface of everything she could as they passed by.
Not the way her voice grew husky as she whispered her prayers over meals or before sleeping.
Not a cursed or blessed thing.
Realizing what he did, Rurik closed his eyes and begged forgiveness from the Almighty. Not the many gods of his ancestors, but from the One who truly ruled the heavens and earth.
For he was a man whose heart missed the one woman he'd allowed himself to love even while his body lusted after a nun.
Chapter Five
Nary a hint of a breeze offering a respite from the encasing heat of the habit she'd chosen to wear passed over her. Margriet cursed her own foolishness as sweat gathered on her brow and trickled under the wimple to trace a path down her neck, between her shoulders and onto her back. This was one aspect of her disguise she'd not thought through.
She expected that the habit would offer protection from the untoward advances of the men in the traveling group, and it had. The men treated her and Elspeth with deference and respect and kept a decent distance from them. None seemed to even consider that they were not nuns. None but their leader, for she caught him watching her at the oddest moments and suspected he knew something was amiss.
Or mayhap 'twas her own guilty conscience over the matter?
Her plan made sense; even the reverend mother seemed to agree that it was sound. That was before the journey began, before they left the enclosed valley that surrounded and protected the convent and its lands with an abundance of forests and streams … and blessed shade! They'd left the valley the morning before and still crossed a piece of land that offered nothing but flat, hard ground and nothing growing save for some short bushes and ground-hugging plants.
Aye, her plan had made sense at the beginning. However, the heat had not been one of her concerns and she did not ever remember any of the sisters complaining of it. Yet another bit of proof that she would never be suitable for the religious life. Then, as though he sensed her unspoken acknowledgement, Rurik turned and met her gaze. The moisture increased on her face and now she could feel it trickle down between her breasts. Made worse by her hair, now tucked under her tunic to hide its length, Margriet considered that mayhap she'd chosen the wrong course of action.
Again.
As always.
She sighed and turned her eyes from his. Reaching into her sleeve, Margriet tugged a square of linen free and dabbed at the sweat that threatened to soak her if left untended. It was very difficult to attain the same attitude of unruffled calm that the nuns seemed to have, especially when the clouds cleared above and the sun offered more heat than they needed this day. Looking around for Elspeth, she noticed the girl seemed to like it even less than she did herself. Touching the cloth to her forehead, Margriet wondered if the girl would keep her silence … and their secret until the journey's end.
"Sister?"
Margriet turned to discover that Sven rode now at her side. He was the most pleasant of the men and he was always considerate of her comfort. "Have you need of something to drink?" He held out a skin and offered its contents to her.
"Many thanks, Sven," she said as she accepted it, took several swallows and then held it out to him. The water was not cold, but it refreshed her nonetheless. He passed it over to Elspeth, who partook of it as well.
"You might wish to pour some on your cloth and cool your face," he said and then the man blushed as he realized he spoke of something probably more personal than a man should to a nun. He stammered a moment or two before he got the words out. "My pardon, Sister, but your face is very red and I thought you might be … uncomfortable."
Trying to lessen his embarrassment, Margriet replied, "I thank you for such concern for my well-being. I would not want to waste our supply on such a selfish thing, no matter that 'twould be a welcome relief in this heat."
Fearing that her words did not sound religious enough, she added, "And I offer such suffering up in the name of Our Lord." She raised her eyes heavenward and then closed them for a moment, mimicking the gesture she'd witnessed hundreds, nay, thousands of time during her years at the convent.
Margriet did unfold the cloth and try to find a dry patch to absorb the gathering beads of sweat. She knew not of the plans for their journey, but hesitated to use their water for her own comfort. Again, the thought that she'd made a mistake crossed her mind. Sven nodded and offered the water to them again, and after each took a few sips, he urged his horse into a quicker pace than she could maintain and took his place at the front of the group.