Anne Stuart - Hidden Honor

She leaned back again and closed her eyes. She could still feel his hand on her shoulder. Still feel his mouth brushing against hers. Sweet Jesus, the sooner she was locked away in the chaste safety of the convent the happier she’d be.

She must have fallen asleep. The next thing she knew it was full daylight, her entire body was cold and stiff, and Dame Joanna had returned, freshly washed and coiffed herself, carrying an armload of rich clothing. “I’ve had them fill a bath for you, my lady,” she said. “Your prince requested I bring you something to wear, but most of my garments are unsuitable for an innocent such as yourself. Neither are they particularly useful for long journeys on horseback, but I’ve done what I can.” She tossed the armload of clothes onto the table, then turned to face Elizabeth.

Once more Elizabeth was stunned by her beauty. Dame Joanna was possibly a full ten years older than she was, with a mature, elegant body and a sad, wise smile that didn’t quite reach her beautiful blue eyes. Her hair was a golden blond, rippling down her back beneath her simple headdress, and her cheeks and lips were touched with a color at odds with her pale, unblemished skin. She smiled, and even her teeth were perfect. “You look half asleep,” she observed. “The prince wishes to leave by midday, and the monks are already grumbling about the delay. That gives you an hour. If it’s not enough, I can tell them you’re unwell.”

“And then they’d leave without me. Abandon me here with Lady Isobel.” Elizabeth couldn’t control her shudder. “She hates me.”

“She’s never been overly fond of me, either. Lucky for her I’m to accompany you to Saint Anne’s.”

Elizabeth jerked her head so abruptly that she slammed it against the hard stone wall. She rose, rubbing her scalp. “You are?”

“Prince William decided you needed another female along to keep you company. I’m to spend two months at the convent, repenting of my sins, and then return to start sinning once more.” She shrugged, seemingly untouched by it all. “I’m just as happy to get away from Owen for a bit. He’s fast and rough and far too demanding. A brief respite from the needs of men would be a blessing.”

For a moment Elizabeth was unsure what she should say. The company of another woman was a gift she hadn’t dared hope for, and from the moment she met Dame Joanna she’d felt an odd kinship with her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t subject anyone to the dangers of the notorious Dark Prince. At least Owen of Wakebryght had never killed a woman. “Are you certain there would be no…new demands from our escort?” she asked.

Joanna moved behind her and began helping her pull off the bloodstained gown. “I confess it was my first thought, and warming Prince William’s bed would be less of a chore than most, despite the danger. He’s a very handsome man.”

“He’s killed two women. At least.”

Joanna shrugged. “There are worse ways to die,” she said philosophically. “But in truth, Prince William has no interest in me as a lover, nor is he bringing me for the other men, if I am to believe what he said. And oddly enough, I do. I’m there for your sake and nothing else.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Elizabeth muttered as she pulled off the plain worsted dress that was little better than a servant’s garb. “I’ve yet to meet anyone who cared about my well-being. Besides, I’ve been doing my best to keep out of his way. He’s the one who keeps appearing wherever I am.”

Dame Joanna laughed softly. “I think it makes perfect sense. You’re very young, aren’t you? You’ll understand when you’re older. Though if you’re immured in a convent perhaps you might never need to learn.”

She helped slip the gown off Elizabeth’s shoulders, so that she stood there only in her plain linen chemise. “Your father did dress you like a serving maid, didn’t he?” she said. “I think you’ll find my chemise a little more to your liking. The fabrics are very fine.”

“I shouldn’t be taking your clothes,” she protested as Joanna herded her toward an adjoining room and the tub filled with steaming, scented water.

“I have more than I need, and I can easily acquire anything I want. Besides, in truth I have little need of clothing in my chosen profession. Don’t blush, little one,” she added in amusement, stripping the shift over her head so that she stood naked by the tub. “It’s the way of the world.”

Growing up in a household of brothers, Elizabeth was unused to having people see her nude body. She practically leapt into the tub, splashing water onto the floor and the hem of Joanna’s dress as she quickly sank up to her shoulders in the blessed warmth. “You can’t call me little one,” she said after a minute. “I’m taller than you are.”

“You’re taller than everyone.” The words were matter-of-fact, devoid of insult. “But in many ways you’re still a child.”

Elizabeth resisted the impulse to argue. The warmth of the water was too soothing to her aching muscles, and she liked Joanna. “Older and wiser than you think,” she said, ducking her head under water and letting her long, thick hair swirl around her.

“So very old and wise,” Joanna said softly when she emerged. “Fortunately you’ll be out of harm’s way soon enough, so I won’t have to enlighten you as to the true nature of most men. And in the meantime Prince William has made certain that you’ll have the best possible protection.”

“Prince William has no interest in protecting me. No interest in me at all,” she protested. There were dried rose petals floating in the water, perfuming the air.

“And we’ll keep you believing that as long as possible,” Joanna said. “Would you like a serving girl to help you with your hair?”

Elizabeth remembered the contemptuous maids of Wakebryght Castle far too well. They’d clearly deemed her unworthy of their lord, and in the end he’d agreed. No, she didn’t want any of them coming around her, mocking her.

“I’m used to dealing with it myself,” she said. “I prefer privacy.”

“In that case I’ll await you in the other room. The maids are busy enough packing clothes for my journey. I suspect when I return some of my favorite pieces will be missing. It will give Owen the perfect chance to buy me more.”

“He likes spending money on you?” Elizabeth asked. Her father had always bemoaned even a farthing spent on his wives or lemans.

“When he spends money on me he knows he can expect something in return. It gives him a way to win my gratitude, and he always takes full advantage of it.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t you obliged to do what he tells you to do, anyway?” she asked, unable to hide her curiosity. It was one of her besetting sins—one she would no longer be able to indulge in a convent.

“Up to a point. But there are certain things a man like Owen of Wakebryght enjoys that I can refuse. I’m a courtesan, not a whore. If he wants to do something painful or degrading he has to pay for it.”

“But wouldn’t that make you a whore?” Elizabeth said, confused. And then realized the severity of what she’d said. “I beg your pardon, I shouldn’t have…”

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Joanna murmured. “You’re right. In the end that’s what I am. I simply have more say in whom I bed and what acts I perform. And I do it on linen sheets, not in a stableyard.”

Elizabeth cursed her unruly tongue. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ll be spared such an existence. And it’s not without its benefits. I dress well, eat well, sleep well when I’m left alone. It’s better than being locked in a convent.”

“I think I’d prefer being locked in a dungeon to spending time in Owen of Wakebryght’s bed,” she said with a shudder.