Wages of Sin by Kate Benedict

sound and she froze, then laughed softly as she realised it was nothing more than a ladylike snore from the adjoining cell. Barefoot, she crept along the corridor to the outer door, wincing as the huge iron key screeched in the rusty lock. Closing her eyes she waited, expecting Mother Ursula to sweep down on her in a fury at any moment. Nothing. Pulling the door open barely a crack, she slipped through.
    She stopped on the threshold, breathing in the clean night air after the stench of the previous few days. Moonlight silvered the trees and the dew-pond gleamed like a dark mirror in the hollow between them. For a moment she stood there, savouring the beauty of the night, before running lightly down the hill towards the cool inviting water, her bare feet leaving dark prints in the soft damp grass.
    Stripping off the stinking shift, she threw it into the shallows to soak, and stood there, a slim white statue in the moonlight. Then, bracing herself, she waded in, sending silvery ripples across the still surface of the pond.
    She shuddered as the water crept up her thighs, caressing her sweaty skin with cold fingers. When it reached her waist she flung herself forward, gasping as it enveloped her completely, her nipples shivering into tight buds with the shock of the icy embrace.
    Laughing, she rolled on her back like an otter, kicking her legs to propel herself towards the centre of the pond. A few sleepy quacks protested this unexpected disturbance, only serving to make her laugh the more. Buoyed by the silky water, she lay there staring up at the starry sky as a feeling of peace washed over her.
    All too soon more prosaic thoughts crept in. If she had not done this on impulse she could have planned it better, and stolen some lye soap from the laundry. As it was she would have to do the best she could without it.
    Using her hands she rubbed every inch of her body, to remove the last lingering traces of sweat and grime. Her skin tingled beneath her fingers and she could feel herself moisten in ready response, but briskly she pushed the tantalising feelings away. There was no time for that sort of thing when her absence could be discovered at any moment.
    Ducking her head beneath the water she scrubbed her hair and scalp, hoping the itching she experienced there was due to sweat and not lice. When she re-emerged her wet hair clung to her in dark tendrils. Sighing regretfully, she swam back towards the edge. Time to wash her shift and get back to the convent before anyone noticed she was missing.
    Despite its soaking and her feverish scrubbing, there were still faint stains on the threadbare garment. But she had done the best she could under the circumstances and at least it no longer stank. She wrung it out as much as possible and struggled back into it, the wet linen clinging to her equally wet body, outlining every curve and hollow, her nipples jutting against the harsh material. Shivering with the cold, she set off up the hill towards the dark hulk of the convent.
    She breathed a sigh of relief when she found the door still open as she’d left it. Slipping through, she closed it carefully behind her. She’d got away with her little escapade...
    â€˜Dear, oh dear,’ came the voice she hated more than any other. She whirled to find Mother Ursula standing behind her, tapping her foot, a mocking smile on her lips. Behind her, in the shadows, other figures stood, waiting. Gasping with shock, Jane pressed her back against the door as if she could force herself through it by sheer will alone.
    Mother Ursula heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘Such a headstrong girl,’ she tutted, through pursed lips. ‘It seems that one lesson was not enough. We shall have to teach you again.’ She put a thoughtful finger to her lips and cocked her head to one side. ‘I fear a harder lesson is needed this time, but what to use? The quirt? The rod? Yes, the rod, I think.’ She clicked her fingers, motioning to the shadowy