Page 92 of Her Dark Seduction
“Father!”
I’d asked for a priest to hear my confession but had not expected my last request to be honored.
“My child,” he said, his light voice indicating his youth. “I have come to give you absolution.”
I knelt at his feet. “Thank you Father. I will find much solace in the confession of my sins.”
He placed a gentle hand on my head before uttering a prayer for my soul and the souls of the people of Shoreton.
“Father,” I whispered, “do you know what became of the servants at Shoreton—the villagers?”
“They have been found new homes, my child. The king was merciful.”
“Elspeth…”
“She is well, lady.” He said, before resuming his prayer, the soft Latin words giving me little comfort.
“I am ready to confess my sins,” I said. He nodded and waited.
“I killed a man.”
He started a little before responding. “Who?”
“Wulfric de Tourrard,” I said. “I intended to take the poison myself, but he took it instead, and I could not stop him.”
“The lord will forgive—” he began but I interrupted him.
“I seek no forgiveness, for I am glad he is dead. I will confess my sin but to face God in truth I cannot tell you I regret his death.”
“Why, my child?”
“He killed the only man I have ever loved,” I whispered. “He tore out his heart and handed it to me on a platter. He made me whore myself by lying with him, and I was too weak to fight him, for I knew he would take me by force whether I resisted or not.”
“Who was the man he killed?” the priest asked.
“His name was Sawford. A servant; the bastard son of a cooper,” I said. Hysteria bubbled up inside me. I wanted to expel the sins from my body by relaying all the sordid details to the priest.
“I committed adultery with him, though at the time I thought I loved another man who was also not my husband. I hated my husband.”
“My child…”
“…and I hated my father. It gladdened my heart to see him killed. I care for no one, and I only look forward to joining my Maman in death. She was a whore and an adulteress as well, branded a sinner in this world yet she was the kindest person I have ever known and I loved her.”
“What of your son?” he asked.
“How do you know about my son?” I said, my voice breaking. “He is gone.”
“Is he?”
“Yes!” I cried. “Do not speak of him. He is—was—innocent.”
The priest remained silent.
“Please!” I begged, “Do not speak of my son.”
He nodded. “Of course, my lady. What passes here today will remain between you and me and him who loves you.”
“Who do you mean?”
