Page 7 of The Conquering of Tate the Pious
Here in the tent, Adelais studied the young abbess, who sat as still as one of the granite tors standing sentinel in the hills.Immutable, rooted so deep that only lifetimes of wind and rain could hope to shift it, bit by invisible bit.
She was small, which Adelais had noticed right away, used to gauging how much of a fight a person would put up if pressed to it.And she was not only slender in a way that suggested prayerful fasting and abnegation, but she was short, barely coming to Adelais’s shoulder.Adelais was a tall woman, another gift from her Northman ancestors, but Tate would be diminutive by anyone’s standards.
And while Tate was strangely pretty, she wasn’t beautiful.Not beautiful like people said Adelais herself was.The nun had forgettable brown hair, dark brows which were thick and straight, and elfin features.Delicate but too grave for loveliness.
Despite that, Adelais found her gaze drawn again and again to the holy woman’s lips.It wasn’t a lush mouth, not the kind of mouth you’d look for in a mistress, say, but it had the most fascinating downward curve to it whenever the abbess let her mask slip.As if someone born to pout had been made to frown instead.
Adelais wondered what it would look like in its natural shape—or in a gasp.She even wondered what it might look like in asmile, which was unusual.She didn’t often find herself caring if someone smiled or not, with the two exceptions of her father, when he’d been alive, and her son, now a young man being fostered in Caen.
But there it was: She wanted to see this abbess smile.
More typically, she’d also like to see Tate’s mouth swollen, panting, wet.But Adelais set that aside for the moment.
“I have plenty of valuables already,” Adelais told the nun frankly.Her husband Gérald had been a wealthy castellan of William’s and a favored warrior, and her own dowry had been substantial.
And she’d pleased William enough with her marauding that he was planning to gift her with estates here in England as a reward—in her son’s name, of course.Because while William was happy enough for her to be his pet Amazon, his kept nightmare with which to torment the English, some walls were unbreachable.She could be William’s tool, a story meant to strike terror into the hearts of his conquered people, and she could murder and pillage on his behalf.
But she could not have a house in her own right, even though it wasn’t that uncommon in this new English land of theirs.
“I don’t need coins and candlesticks,” Adelais continued.“Come on, little nun, what else can you offer me?”
A flush spread anew over Tate’s cheeks, and Adelais tilted her head.She wanted the abbess to speak of thetreasure, the one that had so thoroughly haunted the king.But now the abbess almost looked—well, Adelais wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that look.It could have been embarrassment, or it could have been nervousness.
But there was somethingsecret-like in the way the abbess dipped her gaze and swallowed.And ah, how Adelais loved secrets.
“I’m aware there is more to plundering than taking gold, and I would offer it freely.Only myself, though.The other sisters would stay untouched.”
As in a good fight, Adelais’s body knew the answer before her mind, and heat pooled in her belly.“So it’s true what they say about the English church,” Adelais said, her voice a little huskier now.“Merry monks and married priests.A shame the Wolf is not what you expected, for it would have been a very pretty offer.”
The abbess met her stare, her eyes shining in the light of brazier.“You misunderstand me.I’m still offering it.”
A log in the brazier popped, and the wind nipped at the flap of the tent.Adelais couldn’t tear her eyes away from the woman in front of her, couldn’t stop staring at the fascinating little elf with her plain habit and her mouth made for pouting.Adelais felt for a moment like she had as a girl on King Henri’s floor hearing about Far Hope for the first time: filled with light and color and curiosity.Filled with a bright, sharp hunger.
“You’re offering to fuck me,” Adelais said bluntly, meaning to shock the abbess perhaps, but also needing to be sure.Because abruptly, she couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t having Tate squirming underneath her.
If Adelais had offended her, Tate didn’t show it.“Yes,” she said.“One night, and then you’ll leave.”
Adelais could have laughed.Here was the most interesting creature Adelais had ever found—here was the most fun that she’d had in yearsandthe seat of twenty years’ worth of curiosity—and this sweet nun thought one night would be payment enough to send her away for good.
“But I don’t want to leave,” Adelais said with a wolfish smile.“So you’re going to have to do better than that.”
Tate briefly rolled her lips inward, took a breath.“Two nights.”
“Even twovery goodnights are not that much payment, little mouse.I can find two good nights anywhere in the kingdom.”In fact, her last lay, a barmaid in Langport, had been one of the finest fucks she’d had—and that included Adelais’s late husband, who, despite being a vainglorious prick, had been incredible in bed.“How about this—for every night you give me, I shall grant you a day’s worth of reprieve, and I won’t attack your abbey.”
Tate’s dark brows lifted.“What, in perpetuity?Am I to pleasure you for the rest of our earthly lives?”
“Don’t tempt me, mouse.”She was still smiling, but she knew Tate could hear the danger in Adelais’s voice by the way she tensed.“I have half a mind to carry you off like I would a bag of candlesticks as it is.But I want what’s inside this abbey too badly to leave it.”
Tate seemed to regain control.“It’s an abbey like any other.”
“So the pious women here lie as well as fuck,” observed Adelais.“Because I’ve known there is a secret here at Far Hope since I was a child.A treasure.And I want it.I want whatever brings princes and kings here to behold.”
Tate’s lips parted.Closed.When she spoke, her words were careful.“Those are ordinary pilgrimages.To pray near our relics and see our holy spring.”
“Bullshit,” Adelais cut in.“You think Henri couldn’t find a pilgrimage to make in France or that your King Edward wouldn’t have been satisfied by making a pilgrimage somewhere more convenient than an abbey in the middle of a vast and weathered nowhere?You’re telling me that whatever saint’s knucklebone you have in your church is more important than any other saint’s chunk of rib or bitten-off fingernail?I know there’s something here, Tate, and I want it.I’ve wanted it for twenty years.”
“It can’t be stolen,” Tate replied, lifting her chin.
