The Templar's Penance: (Knights Templar 15) by Michael Jecks Page B
Authors: Michael Jecks
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rueful grimace and stood. ‘I see I am not in your favour today, my lady. I am greatly sorrowed for that. My apologies. Perhaps you will permit me to see you again?’
‘I should be delighted,’ she said, unbending a little now that he was actually going to leave her. She gave him a warm smile. ‘I apologise, but I must have a little time to clear my head before praying.’
‘But of course.’
His mildly aloof manner told her in no uncertain terms just how he felt, like a young swain who was rejected on the first attempt at wooing. He would live. In the meantime, Doña Stefanía had other things to occupy her mind.
First among these, of course, was: how was Joana, and how had the rendezvous gone? She should know soon. Second, and a close second at that, was: where had the Fleming found his money? He was suddenly in possession of large amounts of gold, if the weight of the purse was anything to go by, yet when she had first met him out on the road, he had declared his absolute poverty. That was part of his attraction to her at the time. It was no smutty lust which had made her notice him, but the fact that he came from a different land, a completely different class and was therefore highly unlikely ever to meet her again; this meant that she could afford to take the plunge with the reasonable hope that she was safe from discovery. Only she and Joana had known that she had submitted to Parceval’s clumsy attempts at seduction, so far as she knew, until later, when the other man walked in, anyway: Señor Ruy.
That damned knight had appeared at the chamber’s doorway and had stood there stock-still as though shocked; she had seen him. Her view had necessarily been confused, being upside-down at the time, but she had recognised him. Parceval continued bulling like an ox on his cow all the while, hoarse grunts bursting from his throat at every thrust, oblivious to any interruption – to be fair, she herself hadn’t stopped encouraging him at the gallop – and Señor Ruy stood there staring, drinking in the sight and sounds of their lovemaking. In a curious way, his silent presence stimulated her still more. It gave the Doña an especial thrill to think that she was exciting the knight while helping her lover to a climax. She had felt safe in the dark of the room, thinking that the man couldn’t recognise her. All he would know was that a couple had been rutting.
Then he turned and marched away, just as Parceval gave aloud groan, called upon God in his guttural voice, erupted, and collapsed panting sweatily on top of her.
In reality, she hadn’t cared much about the knight at the time, and soon after Señor Ruy left, Parceval recovered enough to tease her to a fresh bout and she found herself responding enthusiastically. That was then;
now
she was worried.
The next day she saw Señor Ruy talking to another pilgrim out in the yard of the place, and realised with a jolt of horror that the man to whom he spoke was Gregory, curse his cods – the man she’d divorced; the man who knew she was a nun. Hardly the sort of fellow she wanted to hear about her nocturnal escapades. Just then Parceval appeared and saw her, all but shouting out to her, his face beaming, and she had hurriedly ducked away from him before Gregory could notice her. The little man had given her enormous sexual pleasure, true, but he was a scruffy churl, penniless and clad in worn clothing that would have shamed a
mudéjar
.
It was immediately obvious that she must flee the group as soon as possible, and it was her good fortune that the others decided to remain at that village, to rest and visit a local shrine. All that day, Doña Stefanía had kept herself away from the others and the next morning, she, Joana and Domingo and his men all rode off long before dawn, their destination: Santiago de Compostela.
In a way it was lucky that she had seen Gregory before he had seen her. Perhaps by now, Gregory had heard of Parceval’s nocturnal exercises
‘I should be delighted,’ she said, unbending a little now that he was actually going to leave her. She gave him a warm smile. ‘I apologise, but I must have a little time to clear my head before praying.’
‘But of course.’
His mildly aloof manner told her in no uncertain terms just how he felt, like a young swain who was rejected on the first attempt at wooing. He would live. In the meantime, Doña Stefanía had other things to occupy her mind.
First among these, of course, was: how was Joana, and how had the rendezvous gone? She should know soon. Second, and a close second at that, was: where had the Fleming found his money? He was suddenly in possession of large amounts of gold, if the weight of the purse was anything to go by, yet when she had first met him out on the road, he had declared his absolute poverty. That was part of his attraction to her at the time. It was no smutty lust which had made her notice him, but the fact that he came from a different land, a completely different class and was therefore highly unlikely ever to meet her again; this meant that she could afford to take the plunge with the reasonable hope that she was safe from discovery. Only she and Joana had known that she had submitted to Parceval’s clumsy attempts at seduction, so far as she knew, until later, when the other man walked in, anyway: Señor Ruy.
That damned knight had appeared at the chamber’s doorway and had stood there stock-still as though shocked; she had seen him. Her view had necessarily been confused, being upside-down at the time, but she had recognised him. Parceval continued bulling like an ox on his cow all the while, hoarse grunts bursting from his throat at every thrust, oblivious to any interruption – to be fair, she herself hadn’t stopped encouraging him at the gallop – and Señor Ruy stood there staring, drinking in the sight and sounds of their lovemaking. In a curious way, his silent presence stimulated her still more. It gave the Doña an especial thrill to think that she was exciting the knight while helping her lover to a climax. She had felt safe in the dark of the room, thinking that the man couldn’t recognise her. All he would know was that a couple had been rutting.
Then he turned and marched away, just as Parceval gave aloud groan, called upon God in his guttural voice, erupted, and collapsed panting sweatily on top of her.
In reality, she hadn’t cared much about the knight at the time, and soon after Señor Ruy left, Parceval recovered enough to tease her to a fresh bout and she found herself responding enthusiastically. That was then;
now
she was worried.
The next day she saw Señor Ruy talking to another pilgrim out in the yard of the place, and realised with a jolt of horror that the man to whom he spoke was Gregory, curse his cods – the man she’d divorced; the man who knew she was a nun. Hardly the sort of fellow she wanted to hear about her nocturnal escapades. Just then Parceval appeared and saw her, all but shouting out to her, his face beaming, and she had hurriedly ducked away from him before Gregory could notice her. The little man had given her enormous sexual pleasure, true, but he was a scruffy churl, penniless and clad in worn clothing that would have shamed a
mudéjar
.
It was immediately obvious that she must flee the group as soon as possible, and it was her good fortune that the others decided to remain at that village, to rest and visit a local shrine. All that day, Doña Stefanía had kept herself away from the others and the next morning, she, Joana and Domingo and his men all rode off long before dawn, their destination: Santiago de Compostela.
In a way it was lucky that she had seen Gregory before he had seen her. Perhaps by now, Gregory had heard of Parceval’s nocturnal exercises
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