Page 3 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
As she rode back to the convent, she closed her eyes, recalling the unfamiliar heat that had swept through her the moment she laid eyes on the stranger. How that secret place between her legs throbbed and pulsed as if it knew him.
What nonsense!Body parts do not recognize people, especially strangers in the woods!
The nuns, however, had warned her of the sins of the flesh. How her body might react when it was tempted by wickedness. How she needed to pray for forgiveness so that the Lord would cleanse her of her impure thoughts.
They had not been more forthcoming about it, and Theresa had not given it much thought then. After all, Sister Mary often lectured her about things she couldn’t care less about.
But she understood it now as surely as she felt the sweet ache in her core. Hot. Persistent. Craving.
Craving what, exactly?
Theresa shook her head. Such musings were sinful, she had been told. If such wickedness were to overcome her, only prayer would stave off the beastly hunger, they had told her.
Lord, forgive the weakness of my flesh.My eyes have caused me to sin greatly…
Must she pluck them out now, as the Bible had suggested? She did not doubt that Sister Mary would most happily attend to the task.
Her hands tightened on the reins as she urged Pippin faster. She could see the outline of the convent just as the sun dipped belowthe horizon, the familiar dread in her chest replacing the new sensations.
She led Pippin to the stables and changed the water in the trough, smoothing the horse’s mane before heading back to the nunnery. She could already see Mother Superior standing in the doorway, Sister Mary smirking cruelly from behind her.
Theresa squared her shoulders as she approached them.
“Disobedience is the first sin that the woman committed before God,” Mother Superior told her in a cold voice. “The Congregation of St. Agatha does not condone the flagrant perpetuation of such wickedness in its members.”
“You must be punished, of course.” Sister Mary cackled gleefully. “Only then can you be rid of your sinful nature.”
Theresa winced and lowered her head. How many times had she heard them say the same things? How many times had she borne the punishment just to feel the wind through her hair, the sun on her cheeks?
If God had created such wonderful things, why were the nuns of the Congregation of St. Agatha forbidden from enjoying such gifts?
She watched as Mother Superior pressed her lips into a thin line, her cold gaze boring into Theresa as if she were looking at aparticularly distasteful insect. As if she would like nothing more than to squash her underneath her shoe.
But there was a sullen flicker in her eyes. A restraint that she seemed to chafe at with every fiber of her being.
“Punish?” A tired voice called out from behind. “What does that mean?”
Theresa saw the nuns stiffen, saw the barely leashed anger that sparked in Sister Mary’s dull brown eyes, as they turned around.
Only then did she notice the lady standing in the doorway. She was of average height and easily the most beautiful woman Theresa had ever laid eyes on. Her dark brown hair was coiled artfully underneath an elegant hat of midnight velvet. Her traveling clothes were a little wrinkled, but even the poor lighting could not hide the luxurious fabric or the fineness of their make.
However, it was her eyes, worn and weary, that had Theresa sucking in a sharp breath. They were a vivid, brilliant green that she was all too familiar with.
She looked toward Sister Edith, the nun who had raised her from infancy, and Margaret, the novice she had grown up with, their eyes glassy with unshed tears. They were the only ones who had ever shown her kindness in the dismal cold of the nunnery.
“Sister Edith… Margaret…” She whispered brokenly.
Why were their gazes filled with so much sorrow? Why had they not come out to hug her as they often did when she returned to the nunnery?
“Your punishment is… no longer ours to mete out,” Mother Superior told her in a harsh breath, her eyes flashing. “There is… someone else you should meet.”
The beautiful lady let out a soft sob, and Mother Superior closed her eyes as if praying for infinite fortitude.
Theresa trembled as her gaze darted from the lady to Mother Superior. “Who must I meet?”
The old nun’s eyes flashed open. “Your mother,” she told her flatly.
At her words, the exquisitely dressed lady rushed forward, her arms wrapping around Theresa in a tight hug. The fragrance of a summer garden invaded her nostrils as she reeled back in shock.
