Elf looked suddenly stricken. She had not even considered such a thing. She would not! "I am already a nun, Isleen."
"You have not yet taken your final vows, Eleanore. When Richard placed you at St. Frideswide's, it was because the small dowry your father had apportioned for you would not gain you a proper husband of stature who possessed his own properties. Richard discussed the matter quite thoroughly with my parents, and it was then the decision was made to put you in the convent. The nuns would take your little pittance, and be glad for it; and you would have a life of safety and contentment serving our dear Lord. Now, however, you are an heiress of respectable means. You have a small manor with livestock, a house, and serfs. This makes you a most desirable commodity for a knight of good name."
"My course in life has already been determined," Elf replied in firm tones. "I pledged myself to our Lord at the age of ten years. It was then I became a postulant. At twelve I advanced to the blessed rank of novice. In October, on St. Frideswide’s Day, I shall take my final vows and become Sister Alban. This is what I want. It is what God wants. You are wrong, Isleen, to try and tempt me from my chosen path. I shall not be enticed, no matter your argument."
"Very well," Isleen said. "I think you very wrong." But, your intransigence suits me well, Isleen thought. I shall enjoy seeing Saer despoil your virtue, and force you to his will. You will be taught how to use your lips for more than just prayers. You will be taught how to kiss, to lick, to suck, and how to give your husband pleasure in ways you cannot even imagine, little nun. You will be taught obedience as you never learned it in your convent. And when you have given Saer a strong son and heir, I will kill you myself.
Chapter 4
“I shall sleep on the trundle," Elf said as they prepared for bed.
"First we must have a bath," Isleen replied. "There is the tub all ready for us by the fire. You may go first, dear sister."
Elf looked nervously at the large oaken tub. It appeared to be big enough for two people, not at all like the small modest tub they bathed in at the convent. Bending, she undid her garters, which were fastened at her knees, and rolled down her stockings, kicking off her shoes first. She drew her round-necked gray tunica off, and laid it aside, placing her long skirt atop it. Then she pinned up her braid and started to mount the steps of the tub.
Isleen shrieked. "Do you mean to bathe still clothed?" she cried to Elf. "You still have your camisa on, Eleanore."
"I was taught to bathe like this in the convent," Elf answered. "It is more modest. It is not good to flaunt one’s body shamelessly."
"You are not in the convent now," Isleen said. "Take it off so you may bathe fully. There is no one here to see you. I shall not look, I promise you, if you are so modest that you fear my gaze."
"Turn your back, then," Elf said, not of a mind to argue, and frankly curious to learn what the water would feel like on her bare skin. When Isleen had turned away from her, Elf drew the long garment off, dropping it on the floor, and stepped down into the tub. The water was scented, and hot. It felt wonderful. She sighed with the decadent pleasure of it. She would not know such luxury once she returned to the convent. Then she silently chided herself. She had lived her life very well without such delights. She would readjust perfectly well.
From his hiding place behind a tapestry, Saer de Bude had let his eyes wander over the young girl’s body as she stood naked for that brief moment. She had not the lushness of his cousin, Isleen, but she was perfectly formed for her size. He was sorely tempted to step from behind his shield and violate her now, but he restrained himself, remembering her violent reaction to his nearness the day before. No. He had to attempt to win her over, at least a little before he seduced her.
Isleen moved next to his hiding place. "Well," she whispered, "what do you think, cousin?"
"She will prove an amusing tumble," he murmured back so softly, she could barely hear him.
"Go!" she said low, and was relieved to hear the soft click of the little door behind the tapestry open and close as he departed. She turned, saying, "Are you enjoying your bath, Eleanore?"
"Oh, yes!" Elf admitted. "It is ever so much better without my camisa, but of course at the convent we must be more modest, sister."
"Oh, Eleanore, you should at least consider my earlier words," Isleen said, her tone kindly. "You are a lovely young girl, and there would be at least a dozen offers for your hand if you would but say so. My father, Baron Hugh, would be delighted to act as your guardian in such a matter. Ashlin needs you."
"God has called me," Elf said, "and to disobey his call would be wrong. Do not peck at me so, Isleen. You knew marriage was for you. I know the convent is for me, and that is an end to it."
Isleen clamped her lips together. Saer thought he could breach the girl’s defenses, but he was wrong. In the end he would have to rape her to have his way, and to have Ashlin. "Here is a warm drying cloth for you," she said. "Come forth from the tub while the water still has some warmth so I may bathe, too."
"Turn your back, then," Elf commanded her, standing, although the tub concealed her nakedness from Isleen. Taking the toweling she climbed out, wrapping the cloth about her, blushing as Isleen turned, pulled off her own camisa, and moved to encase her voluptuous nakedness in the warmth of the water. Elf dried herself, put her camisa back on, and lay down upon the trundle. When Isleen had bathed and exited the tub, she protested Elf’s decision to sleep upon the trundle.
"You are the mistress of Ashlin. The bed is yours," she insisted.
"It is a bed for a man and a woman," Elf replied. "It was my parents' marriage bed, and your marriage bed. I would be uncomfortable sleeping in it, I fear."
"Then, we will share it, silly," Isleen said.
"Nay," Elf responded. "I am content on the trundle, Isleen. God give you a good rest. Good night." And Elf quietly, but audibly began to say her prayers.
Little prude, Isleen thought to herself, and rolled onto her side, drawing the feather coverlet over her shoulders. She would have to sleep alone tonight, and the notion did not please her at all. When the little nun was fast asleep, Isleen decided, she would creep from the solar and up into the attic room, where Saer was now residing. Would he have some ripe little serf girl in his bed tonight? She hoped so! She always enjoyed it when there were three of them. She had often longed to bring one of the young, well-muscled serf lads into their bed, but Saer did not fancy that kind of a game. There were times when she thought him very difficult, but it never caused her to cease her affections. She had loved him since they were children together, for he had been in fosterage with her parents since he had been six. As the youngest of her parents' children, she had not been sent off as had her three sisters and her brother. Isleen closed her eyes, and dozed. She would awaken when she needed to, and she would go to Saer.
When Elf awoke, the sun was well up. At first she wasn't certain where she was, and then she realized she was in the solar. Stretching, she arose from the trundle and reached for the rest of her clothing. She was fully dressed when Ida bustled into the chamber.