Juliette poured boiling water into the three bowls and left them to seep. “Isabel would have made the worst nun ever.”
Mariot laughed. “She wasn’t very good at following orders or acting in a pious manner.”
“Was she given to the abbey against her wishes too?”
Mariot took a sip of herb tea. “Yes, indeed. She was an illegitimate daughter, one her father was eager to rid himself of. He paid handsomely to have her holed up in our abbey. This isn’t the first time she’s run off, either. But she says it’s the last. This time she means to find herself a husband, so her father can’t drag her back.”
Juliette ground her teeth. “She means to have Tam, by looks of things.”
Mariot nodded. “It appears that way.” She leaned closer so that she was within whispering distance. “Fight for him, Juliette. You must. Otherwise, Isabel will take him. If you want him, you’ll need to best her.”
Juliette bit her lip. “How?”
Mariot drew in her breath. “We’ll put our heads together and come up with a plan. You will win Tam’s attention. But we must make haste because there is nothing tardy about Isabel. She shall be doing her utmost to tempt him right now, even with her head so recently shaved. Soon, I fear that poor Tam will have no option but to handfast with Isabel.”
This was indeed startling news. “What do you mean? Tam says he will not wed anyone again. His wife was killed last year, around the time of the May Day celebrations. Tam says he has promised God that he will remain unwed.”
Mariot met her eye. “I also made promises to God, and I have broken each of them. My mother used to say, “A promise is like a whore’s maidenhead. Both are sure to be broken.”
Juliette’s breathing was strained, as if her mother had just bound her waist and ribs in an effort to squeeze her into the latest French gown. Juliette would act. There would be no more waiting, hoping he’d come around. She would do what must be done. Vienna would do no less.
“I shall insist on inspecting Tam’s injury and make a fuss bathing and dressing his head wound. Do you think that would attract and please him?”
Mariot nodded. “Yes. I hear that men love to be fussed over. And you must act seductively whilst you tend to his wound. Do you know how to be seductive, Juliette?”
She let her eyes drift downwards. “No, I have no idea how that’s done,” she admitted, sounding like a child who was about to miss out on the last strawberry.
“How is it done, Mariot? Do you know? How does one go about enticing a man?”
Mariot looked equally stumped. “I know,” she blurted. “We shall ask Florie. Florie knows womanly secrets that we do not.”
Juliette hugged her new friend. “Of course. What a grand idea. Florie will know. After all, her babe came about from her attachment to a man. Florie will tell me what to do.” Juliette picked up a bowl of steaming mint tea, and together the two of them made their way to the back of the cave.
Florie was resting on a bed of pine needles. She heard the women approach and opened her eyes. “We brought you tea,” Juliette said, carrying the bowl.
“Florie,” Mariot began, “may we ask you a delicate question?”
Florie drew herself up to a sitting position. “Of course. Make me peppermint tea and you can ask me anything.”
Mariot smiled. “It’s just that both Juliette and I are concerned. You know what Isabel is like, and now she’s gone off into the forest to hunt with Tam. We are worried about his manly response to her, especially if there is blood around. We all know how Isabel will react, and it won’t be to deny him. In a deserted place like this forest, well, mischief can easily turn into a promise, and before you know it, the pair will be handfasted.”
If Juliette wasn’t bothered before, after listening to Mariot’s rendition of events, she most certainly was now.
Florie’s face screwed up in concern. “I see.”
Mariot pushed on like a brave missionary going into hostile land. “Do you have any suggestions for Juliette? What might she do to win Tam back?”
Juliette wasn’t all that sure she had Tam in the first place or if her situation called for winning him back, but any advice the fertile, and so recently experienced, Florie had to offer was most welcome.
So as not to sound like a complete innocent, Juliette offered a suggestion. “I thought I might wash his head wound. Do you suppose that would be seductive, Florie?”
Florie tapped her finger tips together. “It is certainly a start.” She thought for a while longer. “How about we brew up a healing salve, one with a pleasing scent. You could add some of the salve to his washing water. Tell him that the salve will aid the healing of his wounds. You could sponge it over his forehead and then over the rest of his body. I’m sure a man like Tam has many cuts and bruises needing attention, especially after being shipwrecked.”
Juliette gasped at the mere suggestion, but Mariot was already clapping her hands. “I knew you would know, Florie. How clever you are.”
These were not like any nuns Juliette had met before. No wonder they wanted to leave the abbey. For them, celibacy was clearly an alien and thoroughly unachievable goal.
“Mariot, dear, could you rush to the steam and find some betony. Bruised betony aides the healing of scapes and wounds. We shall boil betony with mint and wild strawberry or, failing that, pick anything that is green. Tam will never know the difference. By time our hunter returns, we will have the most aromatic wash ready for him. Juliette, you must then take him to the stream and wash him down all over.”
Just thinking of what she must do, and in only a few short hours from now, sent her innards into a spin.
Mariot bolted off with her basket, headed for the stream while Juliette stayed behind with the very pregnant Florie.
“Your time is near?”
“Tis.”
“Are your afeared?”
“Only slightly. I have the Lord on my side.”
Her response surprised Juliette. Hadn’t Florie turned her back on a promise she made to God, and hadn’t she remained anything but chaste? Still, it was heartening to know, that despite all that had happened in the young novice’s life, she remained committed to God.
“Will you marry the father of your child, Florie?”
“Good Lord, no. He is a priest and cannot marry. He’s also a teacher, a gifted one. He must be allowed to continue teaching, and if he married me, teaching would be out of the question. It was God’s will that Sister Joscelin be denied her final vows. If she’d been accepted into the order, she wouldn’t have bolted into the woods with us in tow. I have no idea what I would have done without her. I needed to hide, you see. I needed to distance myself from my priest, otherwise, I’d taint him.”
Juliette reached for Florie’s hand. “You sacrificed yourself for the well-being of the man you love.”
Florie met her eyes. “I did, and willingly.”
Juliette warmed her hand. “You are like a nun to me, nay, better than any nun I know. You deserve your place in heaven.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. Tis a shame you won’t be the one choosing at the end of time. Now, go get some of that boiled water afore Joscelin returns. Take a decent amount. Pour the water into that old cauldron on the stones and put it to simmer.”
Mariot returned with an apron filled with betony and wildflowers. Together the pair pounded and flavoured and boiled until there was one giant pot of perfumed watery salve ready to apply. Juliette heard Joscelin’s hurried steps coming into the clearing. It wasn’t till then she realised they’d used every, last drop of the boiled water, and there was none ready for the night’s pottage. Nor had they cooked up the roots and dandelions for a hot drink either.
Joscelin sniffed the air like a hound in search of supper. Then her face soured. “Did you cook up the roo
ts and dandelion as I said? I have half a basket more to add to the broth.” She sniffed again. “That is a strange-smelling pottage indeed.” Her teeth locked together.
Mariot grabbed Juliette’s arm. “We’re off to the steam now. We’ll fill the pot for our eventide meal and have it boiling again in no time.”
Joscelin peered into the old rusting cauldron. “What is that?”
Mariot dropped her eyes and held her tongue. Mariot might have trouble lying, but Juliette had two sisters, so she was well versed in the art. And the idea of lying to Joscelin made the deed that much sweeter.
“Florie’s time is near. We have brewed up a potion designed to bathe and sooth her and mayhap the new babe too. But first, we shall try our potion on Tam. He has a wound on his forehead that needs attention. I plan to clean it for him as soon as he returns.” And just for good measure, she added, “Best keep our hunter in fighting condition, otherwise there’ll be no meat to share. A feeding mother needs meat. I’m sure all of you are mighty sick of eating naught but roots.”
Mariot stared at Juliette in awe. Juliette knew what she was thinking: How clever you are, and how skilled at telling falsehoods too. Juliette shrugged, as if to say back, That’s nothing. Aloud, she whispered, “I have two sisters.” Those four words explained everything.
A short while later, when the dinner pot really was boiling and awaiting meat, Tam and Isabel sauntered into the clearing, happy as you please. Tam dumped a huge bag of felled game at Joscelin’s feet. Collectively they gasped, as if salivating over the memory of rich meat flavours and imagining the warm fat and juices dripping from their chins. It was as Juliette had guessed. It’d been a long while since any of them had eaten meat.
Isabel trudged behind Tam, in a merry mood. She dropped her sling and snare.
“Did you master the sling?” Juliette asked because she couldn’t help herself.
“We ran out of time. Better things to do.” Isabel winked at her.
She actually winked at me! Juliette was amazed. She looked over at Tam.
He smiled in return, a grin bigger than a snowman’s smile. “Are you not happy with what we’ve caught? Tis plenty for all. I’ve more than enough meat here to keep everyone satisfied.”
“That be for certes,” Isabel said in a voice as thick as treacle.
Juliette itched to slap the rosiness from her cheeks.
Of course, Joscelin ignored Isobel’s lewd comment and the friction she caused. “Ladies, you may skin and gut now,” she ordered. Juliette had no idea how that was done, having only ever skinned and gutted an eel. No matter. Mariot would know, and she would show her how.
Tam spoke at last. “Juliette’s not had that sort of upbringing. She’s a lady, you ken? You cannot ask a lady to skin a beastie. Tis not right.”
Joscelin growled like a bear caught in a trap. “High time your lady in her fine tower climbed down and helped us lowly folk on the ground.”
Juliette caught Isobel’s eye and smiled. Tam had just jumped to her defence. She really shouldn’t gloat, but the temptation was strong.
“Do not fret about me, Tam. I’m happy to help Mariot. I can follow her lead and do whatever she needs me to do. And when I’m done, I’m taking you to the stream for a cloth bath. We’ll be back by time supper is ready.”
Tam looked like a wee lad who’d woken up and discovered it was yuletide morn.
“Tam is a grown man. He can bathe himself,” Isabel said, her eyes narrowing. “He doesn’t want your pawing hands all over him like an overbearing nanny from his nursery years.”
“Ahhh, hold on there, Isabel,” Tam interrupted. “Mayhap Juliette should be allowed to . . .” His words stumbled out, seeking a way to keep the peace and keep his sponge bath too.
“I can promise you, Isabel,” Juliette said, “that once I’m done, Tam will not be reminded of his nursey days, nor of his nanny. I have a women’s touch, and I shall not be timid.”
Tam swallowed, making a gulping sound loud enough for them all to hear. Juliette glanced his way. His eyes were huge, like a hare who suddenly finds himself in a field of carrots. The air hung heavy.
Juliette bit her lip. In a burst of anger, she’d gone and mouthed off, and now she had to make good on her big talk and promise. Somehow, she had to be up to the task.
Chapter 19
Tam worked alongside the novices, helping them to skin and gut the game meat. The job was naught to him, and if his labours meant that Juliette was saved from the unsavoury task, then he was more than willing to work. Juliette tied half of the rabbit meat over the fire to smoke and put the rest into the cauldron on a slow simmer. Then she rubbed mint leaves over her hands and announced, “Right, Tam, let us be away.”
His eyes flickered to Mariot. She looked down at her boots. Then he sought out Sister Joscelin’s reaction, but she wasn’t the least bit interested in their goings on. Lastly, he caught Isabel’s eye. She returned his gaze, looking none too pleased.
Juliette motioned for him to carry the betony brew. She slung washing clothes over her back and led the way. “We’re off to the stream,” she said to no one in particular and stomped off.
Tam shrugged at the others, grabbed the old cauldron half-filled with salve, and rushed after her. Once they were at the wee brook, he placed the pot securely on the bank and waited. He watched Juliette bite her thumbnail.
“Shall I remove my head dressing first, Lass?”
“Yes, yes of course,” she said, swooping onto that activity. She pushed his hands aside and unwound the dirty linen. Once the bandage was off, she anchored an end of it under a rock and let the lengths of linen trail in the water, cleaning the cloths. Then she inched closer, her chest pressed against his.
He smelt her scent, mint and grasses and warm Juliette. He had a yearning to breathe in all he could, hold his breath and commit her scent to memory. She placed her delicate wee hands on each side of his head and peered at his wound. He closed his eyes, embracing the feel of her warm fingers in his hair. He might have sighed, he couldn’t be sure.
“Tis looking rather good,” she said. “I’ll bathe the wound, and then we’ll leave it to air and dry a while.”
He nodded. He’d have let her do anything she pleased, as long as she stayed right where she was. He could feel the press of her breasts against his arm. He was in heaven. She spent a wonderfully long time bathing the wound, and he would have liked to stay there all night feeling the press of her body and her fingers against his flesh. But the darkness would soon fill the sky.
“Lass, shall I remove my shirt?”
“What?”
He couldn’t miss the hint of alarm in her voice. No matter. She’d promised a sponge bath, and, with a vengeance, he wanted one. He slid his linen shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. She stared at his chest. He wondered if she found his cuts and scars not to her liking. This lass was nay used to hefty Highlanders and likely she found them uncouth.
“Lass, do not pay attention to all the scars and marks. Just act as though they’re not there.”
“But,” she said, chewing her thumbnail, “you have lots of fresh cuts.”
“Not so fresh. They’re better now.”
“You really got bashed about in that cruel sea.”
“Aye, the rocks were nay kind to me. But I thank God that it was me they attacked and chose to leave your beautiful body alone. It would have been wrong for you to suffer, slashed and maimed, you being so fine and . . .”
He wasn’t sure he should finish his sentence. He was about to say, “So desirable,” but he knew he best remember she was a maiden still. “I’ve a thick hide. Those scratches don’t bother me.”
As gently as fresh falling snow, she touched a mark. “That one has been bleeding today, by looks of it.”
“Aah? Ooh that. Ti
s nothing. Isabel was aiming for a bird and missed. That’s naught but a scratch too.”
Juliette shook her head, and her face hardened. Anyone would think that the gravest of sins had just been committed. She picked up her cloth and gently washed the scratch. He’d take a hundred such scratches if it meant he could feel the touch of her fingers against his chest.
She moved to his shoulder and pressed harder, dragging her cloth over his wide arms. “She’s a clumsy one, that Isabel. She had no business going hunting with you. A silly woman like her should not be trusted with a knife.”
“Don’t fash so. It’s naught but a nick.”
Juliette dragged her cloth over the width of his back, and he closed his eyes again. The feel of her touch on his raw skin . . . He sighed then, not being able to hold the sound in.
“Tam, she’s quite tricky. That woman has many tricks up her sleeve.”
“Ahhh?”
“Isabel. She’s entirely untrustworthy.”
Juliette pressed the knot of muscles at the back of his neck. He wanted to drop his head and languish in the blissful feeling. Actually, what he really wanted to do was draw her around to his front. But if she got near his mouth, he might just kiss her. Then he’d nay be able to stop himself.
“How was that woman ever a novice?”
Now Juliette was moving, coming around to face him again, and his man-sword stiffened. She began rubbing his chest, hard. His lungs rose and fell in rapid succession. He itched to pull her into his arms and then . . . Best not think of what would happen then.
She moved and stood betwixt his parted thighs. Lord in heaven! Her salve was dribbling down his torso, but in truth, he barely felt the trickle. What he did feel was the pressure of her thumbs and her wee body betwixt his legs. He could barely think.
Thistles and Thieves Page 15
