Lady Isobel's Champion. Carol Townend

your marriage. If anything should happen to you in the meantime, the reputation of our Order would be tarnished, perhaps irreparably. Who would send their daughters to us, if they came to harm?’

      ‘My apologies, Reverend Mother.’

      ‘And there are other concerns that in your haste you did not take account of …’

      Isobel clenched her teeth. ‘Yes?’

      ‘By running off in so wild a manner you risked alienating Count Lucien. Did you see any sign that he was put off by your recklessness?’

      Isobel did not know how it was, but Abbess Ursula’s question evoked a vivid memory of a sensuous mouth pressing against hers, of a masculine arm winding possessively about her waist …

      ‘Count Lucien gave no sign that he was alienated,’ she murmured. We crossed swords a little, but I do not think I alienated him.

      ‘You are blessed.’ The Abbess made a sound of intense disapproval. ‘The town fills with felons every year because of the fair. Which is why the Guardian Knights have been established. It is their duty to deal with miscreants, not yours.’

      ‘Yes, Reverend Mother, I know. Count Lucien has explained this to me.’

      ‘Has he? That is all to the good. We shall leave this folly behind us. In future, I trust you will think twice before indulging in such impulses. If God wills it, the relics will be returned. I have faith that He will also deal with the man who committed this sacrilege.’ Abbess Ursula frowned at the ruined altar frontal, and turned for the nave. ‘Sisters, follow me. Lady Isobel and Elise can finish the sweeping. And after that there is a yard or so of border on the altar cloth to be worked.’ She held Isobel’s gaze. ‘I should like it as much as possible to be finished before you leave the Abbey.’

       Chapter Five

      The next morning, with no word from Lucien about moving out of the convent, Isobel had to assume the palace was fully occupied. While she waited to hear from him, she used the embroidering of the altar cloth to distract herself from worrying that, once again, Lucien had abandoned her.

      The wind had changed overnight, and a brisk easterly was gusting over Troyes. Instead of sewing in the stronger light of the courtyard, she and Elise took refuge half in and half out of a small storage room in a quiet corner of the cloisters. There was no window, so they sat by the doorway with their cloaks about their shoulders and the blue altar cloth stretched between them. If she leaned forwards, Isobel could see the sky. Clouds scudded past like flocks of sheep.

      Isobel was glad of the chance to talk quietly to Elise—she had much to learn and she sensed that Elise could help her. However, a barrage of questions would not be welcome. She must tread carefully.

       Elise, what brings you to this Abbey?

      No, she could not ask that, that was far too probing.

      As for the subject Isobel most burned to discuss—Elise, what is it like to bed with a man? It wouldn’t be easy working that into conversation—she had only met Elise a couple of days ago. Even Lady Anna, whom Isobel had known for years, had shown reluctance to discuss her discomfort at what happened when a man bedded his wife.

      Details had been scant. Isobel needed to know more. What is it like? Does it hurt every time? She had no idea why she supposed Elise might know the answer to that last question, save instinct. Elise was no innocent.

      The nuns at St Foye’s Convent, while elaborating on the wifely duties, had been silent on the more carnal aspects of marriage. It was not surprising. How could nuns who lived chastely know of such things? Carnal experiences were forbidden to them. The sisters had made up for their lack of experience in that area by speaking most eloquently on the importance of a wife denying herself. A wife must—they insisted—put her husband first in all things. Denial was their watchword.