even justifying it to himself? The stupid woman didn't know what she talked about. He could see this was going to be a long journey. With any luck some of them would fall overboard tomorrow. There would simply be no saving someone in one of those big, heavy, shapeless habits.
Pity, that.
Minutes later the soldier returned, breathless.
"Yes, Dominic, what is it now?"
"She says it would be too cold to sleep outside tonight, my lord, and the ground is too damp. And she says wild animals aren't the only things the women need to be wary of outside the tent."
In the process of pouring wine into his goblet, he spun around, spilling some on his tray. " What? "
"She refers to us, my lord—the soldiers."
Of course, Thierry knew what she'd meant by her comment. His reaction stemmed from disbelief and amusement rather than any misunderstanding. The old woman actually thought that she and her cohorts were in danger from being molested by his men? He shook his head, laughing again.
"She says, my lord, that men are filthy beasts and can't be trusted."
He almost spat out his wine. "You can assure the old harpy that no one—no one—is desperate enough to slake their lust with one of her companions." He grinned. "Although I can't vouch for the goat. He might take one look at her and think he's found a soul mate."
Dominic hesitated.
Thierry swigged his wine. "Well, what else?"
"She wants blankets, my lord."
"It's not going to be cold tonight."
"She said if any one of them get ill, you'll be to blame, my lord. She'll be sure and tell the king how they were treated."
Thierry considered, one finger to his lips in mock solemnity. Finally he grabbed a small fleece from the back of his folding chair. "Give her that."
Now no one could say he didn't try to accommodate their needs, could they?
* * * *
Vivienne looked at the fleece and then the soldier offering it. Despite the fearsome appearance wrought by a long, vicious scar across his cheek, he regarded her timidly, holding this gift toward her at arms length, as if she might bite. Now how did he know that?
"I am teary-eyed at thisgenerosity and kindness." The fleece was just about big enough to wrap around her shoulders. Just. "Are you certain he could spare it? I wouldn't want him to get cold this evening. In his own, personal tent."
The soldier squinted down at her, shifting uneasily on his feet.
"Do you know, I just had an idea," she exclaimed brightly. "I should thank him personally."
Alarm quickly took possession of the soldier's face, grime and sweat gathering in the deep folds between his brows. "Oh, I wouldn't..."
Grabbing the fleece she marched around him. She had a job to do and if she didn't act soon it would be too late.
Sister Vivienne had to be in that sinner Thierry Bonnenfant's breeches before morning.
Chapter Two
He heard the squawking noise and thought at first that the hens had got out of the crate, or else a wild hog was running rampant through the camp. Then he heard a woman's voice.
"Put me down at once, you filthy pig. How dare you manhandle a Bride of Christ?"
Munching on a leg of roast pheasant, Thierry strolled leisurely to the flap of his tent and raised it with one hand. Dominic was midway between the campfire and his tent, struggling with a wriggling bundle over his shoulder.
That, he thought, taking another bite of his supper, must be the one who did all the talking.
She kicked and cursed, using a surprising variety of oaths for an innocent, pure-minded "Bride of Christ". Even stranger, as she squirmed, showing a slender pair of ankles and a goodly amount of bare leg, Thierry felt a stirring of interest. For a nun of all things.
Just a little more wriggling and her gown would ride up above her knees. And then higher.
He tentatively checked his forehead with his free hand, afraid he might have sun stroke after riding all day. No. Probably just the usual impulsive need for a female. He hadn't fucked one in almost a
Pity, that.
Minutes later the soldier returned, breathless.
"Yes, Dominic, what is it now?"
"She says it would be too cold to sleep outside tonight, my lord, and the ground is too damp. And she says wild animals aren't the only things the women need to be wary of outside the tent."
In the process of pouring wine into his goblet, he spun around, spilling some on his tray. " What? "
"She refers to us, my lord—the soldiers."
Of course, Thierry knew what she'd meant by her comment. His reaction stemmed from disbelief and amusement rather than any misunderstanding. The old woman actually thought that she and her cohorts were in danger from being molested by his men? He shook his head, laughing again.
"She says, my lord, that men are filthy beasts and can't be trusted."
He almost spat out his wine. "You can assure the old harpy that no one—no one—is desperate enough to slake their lust with one of her companions." He grinned. "Although I can't vouch for the goat. He might take one look at her and think he's found a soul mate."
Dominic hesitated.
Thierry swigged his wine. "Well, what else?"
"She wants blankets, my lord."
"It's not going to be cold tonight."
"She said if any one of them get ill, you'll be to blame, my lord. She'll be sure and tell the king how they were treated."
Thierry considered, one finger to his lips in mock solemnity. Finally he grabbed a small fleece from the back of his folding chair. "Give her that."
Now no one could say he didn't try to accommodate their needs, could they?
* * * *
Vivienne looked at the fleece and then the soldier offering it. Despite the fearsome appearance wrought by a long, vicious scar across his cheek, he regarded her timidly, holding this gift toward her at arms length, as if she might bite. Now how did he know that?
"I am teary-eyed at thisgenerosity and kindness." The fleece was just about big enough to wrap around her shoulders. Just. "Are you certain he could spare it? I wouldn't want him to get cold this evening. In his own, personal tent."
The soldier squinted down at her, shifting uneasily on his feet.
"Do you know, I just had an idea," she exclaimed brightly. "I should thank him personally."
Alarm quickly took possession of the soldier's face, grime and sweat gathering in the deep folds between his brows. "Oh, I wouldn't..."
Grabbing the fleece she marched around him. She had a job to do and if she didn't act soon it would be too late.
Sister Vivienne had to be in that sinner Thierry Bonnenfant's breeches before morning.
Chapter Two
He heard the squawking noise and thought at first that the hens had got out of the crate, or else a wild hog was running rampant through the camp. Then he heard a woman's voice.
"Put me down at once, you filthy pig. How dare you manhandle a Bride of Christ?"
Munching on a leg of roast pheasant, Thierry strolled leisurely to the flap of his tent and raised it with one hand. Dominic was midway between the campfire and his tent, struggling with a wriggling bundle over his shoulder.
That, he thought, taking another bite of his supper, must be the one who did all the talking.
She kicked and cursed, using a surprising variety of oaths for an innocent, pure-minded "Bride of Christ". Even stranger, as she squirmed, showing a slender pair of ankles and a goodly amount of bare leg, Thierry felt a stirring of interest. For a nun of all things.
Just a little more wriggling and her gown would ride up above her knees. And then higher.
He tentatively checked his forehead with his free hand, afraid he might have sun stroke after riding all day. No. Probably just the usual impulsive need for a female. He hadn't fucked one in almost a
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