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The Fifth Knight(94)

By:E. M. Powell


Frowning, he bent toward her, his face inches from her mouth. “Have you been drinking wine?”

“What if I have? It’s only my stupid, silly naiveté that listens to the teaching that says it’s a sin, that keeps my head covered because loose hair is a sin, that keeps me from sight because that’s a sin, that, that — ”

“Hush.” Benedict raised his hands as he glanced around uneasily. “You’ll wake the whole house.”

“And if I do?” Theodosia glared at him for his interruption.

She got a stern look in return. “If Brother Edward or your mother finds us here, alone, half-dressed, in the dead of night, they’ll have my manhood lopped off. Lord knows what they’d do to you. Please, go back to bed. I am, before someone hears us.”

He went to return to his own room, but Theodosia didn’t budge.

Instead, she turned back to the window, folded her arms, and looked out once more.

“Oh, forcurse it.” He came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You can’t stay here,” he said, tone low and forceful. “You’ll freeze, your skin’s already like ice. You don’t feel it right now because of the wine.”

“Like ice.” She raised her eyes to his. “Like the night I fell in the river?”

He shook his head with a half-smile. “No. Not as cold as that.”

She didn’t drop her gaze. “Like when you found me in that cell in Knaresborough? Like when we rode all those miles in the snow? All you’ve done for me, the number of times you’ve saved me, and all for a stupid lie. You’ve been made as big a fool as I.”

“You talk in riddles. There is no lie to you, to who you are.”

“Not riddles. The truth. For once. Everything about me was a lie. My calling. My life. My religion. Even my name. I’m no gift from God. I’m just a worthless woman.”

Benedict brought his other hand to her shoulder and pulled her none too gently from the window. “My room. No arguments.”

“Take your hands off me.” She squirmed in his hold.

“As soon as no one can hear you.”

Benedict hustled her through to his room and pushed the door shut behind him with one foot. He sat her down on the hard bed and hunkered down with his back to the wall opposite her. It was far less fine than her and her mother’s room; their knees almost touched in the narrow space.

“I’m not staying in here, Benedict.” She went to rise, breath fast in her chest.

“Yes, you are.” Reaching forward with one long arm, he pulled the rumpled rough cover from his bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Keep that on. You need it.” He pinned her with his dark gaze. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“My squire master used to say it to me. He’d say it to any of the lads who fumed and raged. It’ll eat you up, he’d say, if you keep it in. And not only are you angrier than a she-bear who’s had her cub stolen, you’re drinking wine, telling me you’re worthless. So out with it.”

Theodosia’s lips tightened. “Do you presume to be my new confessor?”

“I never said I was here to grant forgiveness.” He raised his eyebrows. “Worthless?”

Her own word tore into her soul. “Yes.” Her anger was twisting her so hard, she felt tears build.

“Why?”

“I told you. I’ve only lived a lie.” Realization bit. “Because…I’m not chosen. I’m not picked by God.” Her tears spilled over, running hot and unchecked down her cheek.

Benedict said nothing, did nothing. Only sat in silence as she cried quietly, painfully.

Then his hands covered hers. “Can I tell you what I think?”

“Please don’t. I know what your opinions are about my religious calling, the religious life. I don’t need you to gloat, to tell me you were right all along.”

“That’s not what I was about to say.” His grip tightened, held her hands fast within his. “I want to tell you that you are the furthest thing possible from worthless. You’re brave. Headstrong. Resourceful. Clever. Quick-witted.” He let go of one of her hands and gently brushed away her tears. “You have courage that makes you foolhardy. But I admire it to the soles of my boots, and that’s not worthless.”

“It is good of you to say such things.” She collected herself, brought her sobs to a stop with a shuddering breath. “You have said them before, I’ve not forgotten.” She tried to smile. “Even though they make me sound more of a knight than a woman.”

“Believe me, you’re a woman. I’ve seen you, remember?” He gave a sheepish smile. “In my sinful way.”