The Wife Test Read Online Free PDF

furious. If experience was any guide, she would storm and rail and order penitent rations for the entire convent as a lesson in the wages of disobedience. Archibald reached for a bunch of the plump, sugary grapes and popped them in her mouth one at a time. No doubt the abbess would send someone after the bridal party to haul Chloe back to some grave and horrible punishment. Unless … unless the bridal delegation was already too far away …
    She was warming up nicely in the blankets. She wiggled her feet and took another sip from the rich wine in her cup. She really ought to call out … get rescued … warn the abbess what was afoot …
    “Help,” she said softly. Then she sipped again and leaned her head back with a mischievous bit of a smile. “Help me. I’m locked in the cellar with the convent’s best wine and cheese …”

Chapter Three
    Hugh of Sennet held his breath as the last habit-clad figure emerged from the inner gate and hurried toward where he stood waiting at the back of the cart. At last. He hoped the fact that the old nun was late didn’t mean she would cause delays on the journey. He had enough to worry about.
    Extending gauntlet-clad hands, he averted his eyes and gave the old sister what should have been a boost up into the cart. But she proved lighter than he expected, and there was a muffled cry and then a thud. When he looked, she was sprawled on the floor of the cart with her habit bunched up around her knees, baring much of her legs. He grabbed a handful of habit and yanked it down over the exposed flesh, mumbled something of an apology, and abandoned her to the assistance of the maids in the cart.
    He wheeled and looked up to find Graham’s eyes the size of goose eggs. Clearly
he
had seen it, and there were half a dozen other men staring fixedly at the cart and its occupants, trying to decide if they’d seen what they thought they had. With an audible groan, Hugh headed for his mount and climbed aboard, giving the order to move out before his rear even touched the saddle.
    The creak of wooden wheels, the clank of armor, and the thud of hooves mingled with calls of “Godspeed” from the sisters and maidens huddled on the far side of the yard. It should have been a relief to be under way, but deep in his gut Hugh had a feeling that something was not right. And as the first miles rolled by, his intuition proved correct.
    The trouble, he realized with no small horror, began with himself. All he could think about was those bare legs. Long … smooth … shapely … he scowled as he examined the image branded into his mind’s eye. He couldn’t believe that those were the knees of a old nun who had spent a lifetime on them in prayer and penitence. But, as anyone at Edward’s court would gleefully confirm, he was scarcely an expert on women’s legs. Or any other female part, for that matter. How would he know what an old woman’s knees should look like?
    Not that he had
looked,
really. He had merely glimpsed.
Seen.
And “seeing” was not the same as “looking.” As the old brothers from the monastery had often said: one couldn’t help seeing, but, with God’s help, one could keep himself from looking.
Looking
involved intent. And it was often the beginning of a chain of actions that, left unchecked, would carry a man straight to Perdition.
    A burst of girlish laughter interrupted his high-minded thoughts. He looked back and spotted Graham wending his way back to the maidens’ cart. Reining sharply around, he went charging toward the cart himself. As he reached Graham’s side, he followed his friend’s gaze to a bevy of wimple-wrapped faces turned their way. Clear young faces … cream-smooth and sun-blushed … set with big, vivid eyes and rosy lips upturned in smiles …
    God in Heaven.
    “Graham!” he barked out, startling his friend. “Take the lead!”
    As his second in command pivoted his horse and rode to the front of the column, Hugh realized that the men assigned to ride