Just before he could reach the door that led to their rooms, a female voice had called out to him. Luckily, a dog named Pirate had distracted her. It had only taken a second to realize who Pirate was and who she had to be. And like a fool, he had turned to look at her.
Tatiana. So close. And even more beautiful than he’d imagined.
How long did she intend to pray in the chapel? He couldn’t afford to be trapped in the priests’ rooms until she left, not when the priests could return at any moment. A quick look around gave no sign of another exit. Before she could finish fussing at Brody, he slipped inside a confessional booth. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would enter the next booth. Shit!
When was the last time he’d confessed? Ten years ago? Twelve? He’d seen no reason to tell anything to the king’s spies. But apparently, others still went through the ritual. Perhaps they feared the priests would report them if they didn’t. These days, a bad report from a priest could get a person killed.
She cleared her throat as if she thought he might not be aware of her presence. How could he not be aware? Her voice was soft with the tiniest hint of a lilt. Charming. Her scent of rose petals wafted through the grate. Sweet. He could hear every rustle of her skirt as she settled on a chair. Feminine. If he dared to turn his head, he would see her. Beautiful.
He clenched his gloved hands. Dammit.
“Greetings, Father,” she said softly. “May the Light shine upon you always.”
What was the proper response? He cleared his throat. “Blessed be the Light.”
“Blessed be the Light that can illuminate my sins,” she answered.
He winced. Did she actually have something to confess? Like consorting with one man while she was betrothed to another? He turned his head slightly so he could see her through the grate. She was staring straight ahead, biting her lower lip. Her skin was pale and luminous. Her profile sweet and delicate. Small nose, pink cheeks, and a soft curve to her jaw. She looked so young. And innocent.
“First, if you don’t mind,” she began shyly, “I would like to give thanks to the Light for restoring my health.”
He leaned closer to the grate, trying to see any lingering signs of her close brush with death, but her cheeks were pink and full, her eyes unmarked by shadow. “I heard you were quite ill.”
Her blush deepened and she lowered her head. Her loose black hair swept forward like a silk curtain, hiding her face. So close. He rested a gloved hand against the grate, imagining how soft her hair would be. How soft her skin would be.
“The Light was merciful. I am much better.”
“Beautiful,” he whispered, then turned away quickly when she glanced sharply toward the grate.
“Excuse me?”
“The … the Light is beautiful in his mercy.” He winced and pulled the hood forward to better hide his face. “Did you have something you needed to confess?”
She hesitated, then answered, “I’m afraid so.”
His jaw clenched. If he had to hear about her lover—
“May the Light shine upon my transgressions for the world to see. I—I took a long bath.”
He blinked. “That’s it?”
“Well, it was a really long bath.”
He snorted. “You should be ashamed.” He certainly was, for he was starting to imagine her naked body immersed in warm, sudsy water.
She sighed. “I’m afraid I lounged in the tub for hours. And I used far more soap than was necessary. I must have lathered up my entire body three times. It was terribly wasteful.”
He groaned silently as more visions flitted through his mind. Long, shapely legs extending into the air with soap sluicing down her skin, headed for her sleek thighs. Rounded breasts, slick and glistening, peeking above the water with soapy bubbles clinging to her nipples.
“And I sent my poor maid out in the heat to gather rose petals to scent the water.”
No wonder she smelled so good. He shifted his weight on the hard chair. His breeches were getting too damned tight.
“And she had to keep heating more water over the fire, because the bathwater would cool down, and I like it hot.”
“Enough!” He rubbed his brow. “No more, please.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry, Father. I won’t take such a long bath again.”
Not unless I’m there to watch. Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. Didn’t a husband have the right to watch? And if she liked it hot … Get ahold of yourself. “If that is all, you may go.”
She hesitated, then peered at him through the grate. “What about my penance?”
“What about it? Come back when you’ve done something you actually regret.” Like killing your own nanny.
She bit her lip and was quiet for a moment.
Oh, shit. She had done something.
“I’m not sure if I should talk about it,” she said.
He grimaced. No, dammit. I don’t want to hear about your lover. Although it was safer for her if he was the one who heard it. If she confessed it to an actual priest, she could be in serious—
“You have probably heard that I’m betrothed.”
He cut a quick look at her. She was looking down at her lap. “Yes, I have.” He eased closer for a better view. She was gripping her hands together.
“He’ll be here in a few days. I-I know I must marry him. It’s the king’s command.” She looked up at him, and he quickly moved back into the shadows. “And I would never disobey. But I—” She lifted her clenched hands to her chest. “I’m afraid … of my betrothed.”