by one Sir Robert Clarwyn, Baron Ravensmere.
He had wheedled out of her that promise to return to England. How had she been so careless? To go back to England meant to abandon freedom and the Beguine way of life. It meant subjugation and misery as some man’s wife. She would not marry. She could not go back, yet she had promised.
Right now, no better solution occurred to her than disappearing into the streets of Palermo when Robert decided it was time to leave. That she would be breaking a promise bothered her. ’Twould leave a stain on her soul. To eradicate that stain would require much prayer, many good works, and perhaps years in purgatory. No doubt God would forgive her, for her dedication to his work was without question, but would she be able to forgive herself?
She shook her head. No sense borrowing trouble. Time enough existed for a viable solution to present itself. Her other problem was more pressing. Sir Robert Clarwyn, himself.
On those few occasions when she imagined someone coming to take her back to England, she had thought it would be one of her uncle’s knights. Perhaps even Uncle William in person, although she knew that to be unlikely. He would hardly consider a woman important enough to bestir himself from the comfort of his home. She never dreamt her royal cousin would take an interest in her.
Robert had promised Edward to return her to England, and to keep that promise he must guard her safety. He seemed to value his word as much as she did her own. Part of her wished he had made no such promise. Foolishly, she wished he guarded her safety because he desired it.
Not that she longed to depend on him, but for once, just once in her life, she yearned to be valued by a man for who she was. To see admiration, even respect, in the eyes of a man might well be worth her hope of heaven. She cast a quick glance across the deck to where Robert conversed with Berthild and Gretle, causing the older women to blush. Despite his often visible anger, he was a more than capable guide and leader who tolerated much that other men would not. His care of her fellow Beguines throughout the journey would endear him to any woman. She was coming to have a great deal of admiration and respect for Sir Robert. Too bad he would never return that regard.
Steps approached from her left. “Juliana,
mia bella adorata
. Your eyes put the sea to shame, for its blueness cannot pretend to compare. Do you know,
bella mia
, why the sea is so full and blue? As punishment, a jealous god placed in the sea a woman who chose to love over him an ordinary man.”
Juliana arranged her expression and turned to Luigi. She brushed a stray curl behind her ear and folded her hands. The little man made her nervous with his fulsome compliments. He also made her laugh with his nonsense.
Across the deck, Robert glowered at her, as if he thought her smile some sort of sin. The look reminded her too much of her uncle and smelled of hypocrisy, given Robert had just been laughing with Berthild and Gretle.
“I have heard this story,” she said to Luigi. “Do you truly believe that an ancient god put this woman in the sea where she would see her lover wherever he traveled but could never touch him? That she weeps so greatly that the seas will never run dry?”
“But of course,
bellissima
. There can be no other reason for the beauty and majesty of
Il Mare Mediterraneo
than as home to a woman of great passion. A woman like yourself. No?” He lounged against the rail and much too close.
“And how would you know if I am a woman of great passion?”
“By the fervor with which you pursue God’s work and from the pink on your delicate skin that moments ago was an exquisite, yet pale, alabaster.”
He had taken her fingers and played idly with them. Juliana longed to snatch them away. To do so would reveal feelings other than the placid serenity she wanted the world to see. So she brightened her smile and waited patiently for an opportunity to
He had wheedled out of her that promise to return to England. How had she been so careless? To go back to England meant to abandon freedom and the Beguine way of life. It meant subjugation and misery as some man’s wife. She would not marry. She could not go back, yet she had promised.
Right now, no better solution occurred to her than disappearing into the streets of Palermo when Robert decided it was time to leave. That she would be breaking a promise bothered her. ’Twould leave a stain on her soul. To eradicate that stain would require much prayer, many good works, and perhaps years in purgatory. No doubt God would forgive her, for her dedication to his work was without question, but would she be able to forgive herself?
She shook her head. No sense borrowing trouble. Time enough existed for a viable solution to present itself. Her other problem was more pressing. Sir Robert Clarwyn, himself.
On those few occasions when she imagined someone coming to take her back to England, she had thought it would be one of her uncle’s knights. Perhaps even Uncle William in person, although she knew that to be unlikely. He would hardly consider a woman important enough to bestir himself from the comfort of his home. She never dreamt her royal cousin would take an interest in her.
Robert had promised Edward to return her to England, and to keep that promise he must guard her safety. He seemed to value his word as much as she did her own. Part of her wished he had made no such promise. Foolishly, she wished he guarded her safety because he desired it.
Not that she longed to depend on him, but for once, just once in her life, she yearned to be valued by a man for who she was. To see admiration, even respect, in the eyes of a man might well be worth her hope of heaven. She cast a quick glance across the deck to where Robert conversed with Berthild and Gretle, causing the older women to blush. Despite his often visible anger, he was a more than capable guide and leader who tolerated much that other men would not. His care of her fellow Beguines throughout the journey would endear him to any woman. She was coming to have a great deal of admiration and respect for Sir Robert. Too bad he would never return that regard.
Steps approached from her left. “Juliana,
mia bella adorata
. Your eyes put the sea to shame, for its blueness cannot pretend to compare. Do you know,
bella mia
, why the sea is so full and blue? As punishment, a jealous god placed in the sea a woman who chose to love over him an ordinary man.”
Juliana arranged her expression and turned to Luigi. She brushed a stray curl behind her ear and folded her hands. The little man made her nervous with his fulsome compliments. He also made her laugh with his nonsense.
Across the deck, Robert glowered at her, as if he thought her smile some sort of sin. The look reminded her too much of her uncle and smelled of hypocrisy, given Robert had just been laughing with Berthild and Gretle.
“I have heard this story,” she said to Luigi. “Do you truly believe that an ancient god put this woman in the sea where she would see her lover wherever he traveled but could never touch him? That she weeps so greatly that the seas will never run dry?”
“But of course,
bellissima
. There can be no other reason for the beauty and majesty of
Il Mare Mediterraneo
than as home to a woman of great passion. A woman like yourself. No?” He lounged against the rail and much too close.
“And how would you know if I am a woman of great passion?”
“By the fervor with which you pursue God’s work and from the pink on your delicate skin that moments ago was an exquisite, yet pale, alabaster.”
He had taken her fingers and played idly with them. Juliana longed to snatch them away. To do so would reveal feelings other than the placid serenity she wanted the world to see. So she brightened her smile and waited patiently for an opportunity to
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