Page 2 of A Sinful Virgin for the Duke

“She comes, a torch in the shadows, and it is day; Her light more brightly lights the dawn. Suns leap from out her beauty and moons are born in the smiling of her eyes. Ah, that the veils of her mystery might be rent, and the folk of the world lie ravished at her feet,” she read aloud softly.

In her wildest dreams Gemma could barely imagine someone saying those words to her. In truth, she wanted less than love. She craved genuine affection, protection, and care. She wanted to exist in someone’s eyes and heart and not be treated by people like a rag that her mother had discarded.

Hiding the book once more, she got to her feet and glanced out of the narrow window that was set high in the wall. Gemma thought that the ancient masons who’d build the priory must have designed it so the women could not escape. The weak and gloomy sunlight matched her mood.

“Where do I go?” She heard someone call out. “The cart is laden!”

Attention piqued, she returned to the window, stood on her tiptoes and spotted a cart entering the courtyard. Its thick cover concealed a load of goods and fruits that the nuns could not grow themselves.

A madcap idea birthed abruptly in her mind. If there was any chance she could leave this wretched place she would take it. She was forgotten for now, excused, and could get several hours’ head start hidden in the back of such a cart. She grasped her cloak, the one she wore on cold wintery nights during mass, balled it up and snuck down the corridor.

Gemma glanced over her shoulder as she closed the chamber door behind her and peered down either side of the passageway.

With no one in sight and nothing stirring, Gemma gathered her skirts in both hands to ensure she made no sound and padded her way as silently as possible down the corridor.

She wound through the dim passageways of the convent, familiar with nearly every nook and cranny after years of living within its walls.

She kept her head down as two nuns, chatting with each other, passed her by. One of the nuns eyed her but she kept walking, making it appear as if she were late for mass. The punishment would be severe and cruel if she were to be caught yet again. She hesitated only briefly at the thought but the beckoning song of freedom, of a future far away from the stone walls of the convent, was too compelling for her to ignore.

Gemma shivered as she doubled back and headed to a side door that led into the inner courtyard. Despite the warm summer air that existed during the daytime, the nights were always unpleasantly chilly.

In a dark corner of the corridor that opened into the courtyard, Gemma quickly donned her cloak and tugged her cowl high around her neck. She laced her hood tightly to keep herself warm and to maintain her disguise. The door groaned softly as she pushed it and cracked open the large wooden barrier a fraction of the way. Although it had required a lot of her strength, it was now open just enough to allow her to slip through the thin space.

No one seemed to notice her as she turned her back to the cart that was being unpacked in the courtyard. She tried to blend into the shadows but watched the unloading out of the corner of her eye.

“Only the crates to the left,” the driver instructed the kitchen boys who were unloading the wares. “The rest are for another.”

As the driver excused himself to use the facilities and the boys finished unloading the crates, Gemma saw a window of opportunity present itself. With her heart lodged in her throat, she climbed into the cart and scurried to the back and under the cover within a few seconds, making sure the thick cloth hid her completely. The rattle of the cart was masked as the last of the crates were pulled from around her.

“Holy Father, please help me leave this place and find happiness,” she whispered, clutching at the small wooden crossthat always hung around her neck. Her eyes were squeezed tightly as anxiousness and dread flowed through her.

The cart smelled musty and the boards were rough against her skin, but she would take it all if it meant getting away from St. Catherine’s. The cart was preferable to the smell of dried blood, rotten food, and the cold muskiness of a cell floor.

It felt like an eternity had passed before the cart began to move, but when it did, her heart grew even tighter in her chest, as if it was a caged bird, desperate to slip through its bars.

When the cart began to descend the hill without anyone stopping to search it, Gemma finally took a breath and involuntarily uttered a sob of relief.

The bleakness of her future in that wretched, colorless place slowly faded into obscurity as the cart put distance between her and the nunnery. She dearly hoped that whatever lay ahead was much brighter than what she had left behind.

She just prayed that she could get away far enough and fast enough.

CHAPTER 2

“Whoa! Easy there,” the driver’s voice echoed as the cart rattled along.

Gemma’s muscles ached from the cramped position she had held for what had seemed like hours, nestled between sacks of grain and barrels of who-knows-what at the rear of the cart.

The air was musty and heavy, and the jostling of the wooden wheels over the bumpy road had shaken her body until she felt sore in places she didn’t know existed. However, despite the discomfort, the thrill of freedom hummed in her veins as the weight of the convent finally started to lift from her shoulders.

Gemma froze and her heart leaped into her throat as the cart slowed down. With careful, cautious movements, Gemma shifted just enough to peek through a tiny gap between two sacks. Her breath hitched as she caught sight of the sprawling estate that lay before her.

This was not the humble village that she had imagined. No, this was grand; a vast mansion of grey stone with towering windows that gleamed in the dying light of the afternoon sun. Rolling hills and manicured gardens stretched out around it like a scene from a fairy tale.

Where have I ended up?

But there was no time to dwell on that.

This will have to do.

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