Page 84 of My Hero
“Did you want something, my lady?”
Cynthia narrowed her eyes at the bug-eyed face peering around the door. It wasn’t Mary.
“Elspeth!” She saluted her maid with the cup. Then she drew her brows together. She couldn’t quite remember what it was she wanted. Ah, well, she decided, it was good just to see Elspeth’s friendly face.
“Oh, my lady,” Elspeth said, clucking her tongue. She shut the door behind her.
“Where’s Mary?”
“I sent her to the hall to make excuses to your guests,” she said, bustling forward. “Can’t very well let them see you like this, can I?” She shook her head. “Oh, my lady, you’ve got yourself well besotted now.”
“Aye,” she agreed, grinning wide. “Well and truly.”
“Come now, my lady, it’s time we had a chat,” Elspeth said more gently, plucking the mug from her hand. “What’s this all about? For a week you’ve moped about like a harlot sent to convent. And now, you’re so deep in your cups you can barely—”
Cynthia snickered once, then threw back her head and let out a long laugh.
“My lady!” El scolded.
“A harlot?” Cynthia guffawed, smacking one hand across the surface of the water. “Send to convent? Me, El?”
But as funny as it sounded for a moment, the thought suddenly made her horribly sad as well. Even as her laughter rang off the walls, tears welled in her eyes.
“A harlot sent to convent,” she repeated ruefully. Bless Elspeth—the maid didn’t know how close to the truth she was.
Cynthia closed her eyes and sank down into the soothing water, letting it close over her neck, her mouth, her nose.
“My lady!”
Elspeth hauled her up by the neck of her gown. Cynthia gasped, choking on the water, and slapped at the maid’s hands.
“Talk to me, my lady,” Elspeth said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Cynthia swallowed. She didn’t want to talk. “First I need another drink.”
“Pah! You need another drink like the Abbot needs another cock.”
Cynthia hiccoughed. A bemused smile slid across her face.
“Now tell me what’s amiss,” Elspeth commanded.
Cynthia drew circles on the surface of the water with a fingertip. “God,” she said. “He’s punishing me.”
“Punishing you? God?”
“Aye. He nearly seized my soul the other night,” she murmured, shivering. Her body could still recall the awful thrill of passion that consumed her as she hovered at the precipice of mortality.
“What do you mean, my lady?”
Cynthia licked her lips. Suddenly they felt very dry. “I mean…” She glanced down at the wet, transparent pocket of fabric draped between her legs. Her woman’s curls looked as innocent as ever, despite her sin and her tumultuous brush with death. “I bedded with a man.”
Elspeth’s hand flew to her mouth, but she uttered not a word.
“It was…it was…wonderful.” She smiled. Her ears buzzed as she recalled the heat of Garth’s arms about her, his warm flesh melding with hers.
Then she thought better of it. “Nay. Nay. It was terrible.” She screwed up her face. It took her a moment to recall why it was so terrible. Then she remembered. “I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. The devil put awful moans in my throat, and God…”
She frowned. Elspeth was making some strange noise. She peered at the maid beneath heavy-lidded eyes.
