On the way, they passed the stable, a large gatehouse, a chapel, and a moat surrounding the inner wall and court.
Passing through the gatehouse, they dismounted, and their horses were taken.
Silene would have been relieved to be here, if not for the heaviness on her shoulders.
Riding in the captain’s lap all day was pure torture. At first, she had been angry while she prayed. That changed as she became aware of one of his arms around her waist and the other hand holding the reins. Looking down at his long, tanned fingers and scarred hands distracted her. Moving around on his hard, well-muscled thighs with nothing to hold on to but his forearms had begun to make her perspire.
She was glad to be between her noon and late afternoon prayers. She wondered if the captain had planned for them to arrive at the castle at this time, giving her some time to settle in.
Her heart warmed thinking about how he’d done everything in his power to make her trip as pleasant as it could be.
“How are ye feelin’?” he asked, slowing his pace and waiting for her.
“I do not know,” she answered honestly with a quirk of her mouth.
She couldn’t tell him the truth about her indecision. She couldn’t wait to be out of his arms and away from him, and yet she missed him already and he was still here! She wished she was in his arms again. She should laugh. She was mad.
“Ye are smilin’. That is a promisin’ sign,” he said with humor flashing across his eyes.
“I smile,” she told him, “because I think I have gone mad.
He glanced down at her. “I dinna think one knows they are goin’ mad if they truly are.” His voice, along with his gaze, deepened.
She couldn’t tell him that he made her melt all over and think of things she should not be thinking of. He made her smile, and laugh, and more miserable than she’d ever felt in her life.
Her prayers were more frantic and unfocused.
“Do you think I can have confession? Is there a priest in the chapel?”
“Of course,” he promised. “I will bring him to ye after—”
“Now.”
He looked around at the men, then sent Morgann to alert the high steward that his niece had arrived safe and sound and wished to stop in the chapel before being presented.
“Aye.” Morgann frowned, obviously not wanting to leave her. But he obeyed his orders and took off through the inner gate.
“Come, we will find ye a priest.” The captain forced himself to smile and then led the way to the chapel.
This was what she needed, to tell someone who would not tell anyone else. Someone who could absolve her, perhaps advise her what to do.
He’d told her he wouldn’t leave her. But she didn’t want to see him everywhere she looked. How would she ever resist him? How would she make him stop haunting her?
She quickened her pace and entered the chapel first, pushing open the doors.
There was a priest standing off to the right of the altar. He looked up, his stern, weathered face set toward her. “Who is there? Who comes barging into the House of the Lord?”
Silene slowed her pace. She touched her hooded head and wished she’d worn her bloodstained wimple and veil.
“Who is there?” the priest demanded again.
“Sis…Sister Silene Sparrow, niece to John the Steward, here at his command.”
His frown made the creases in his face even more defined. “Remove your hood! Where is your habit?”
“’Tis in my bag. ’Tis covered in bloodstains.”
“Put it on, child!” the priest barked. “You are in the Lord’s house!”