Jemma wondered if the girl had a true calling, for she appeared to take the duty of being a nun very seriously.
“Forgive me, but the laird wishes to see ye in the church sanctuary.”
Claire frowned and looked at Jemma.
“The laird bid me care for his wife while you attend him.” The nun was meek and her tone mild. She even lowered herself when she finished speaking.
“I see. Yes. Thank you.” Claire walked toward the wall where her length of rust and orange Barras wool was hung. She placed it over her shoulder and belted it at her waist as she had been instructed to do. There was nothing to show that she was anything but another girl brought into the castle to work during the busy harvest season.
“I will return, my lady.”
The door opened and closed softly behind Claire. The nun seemed to be frozen in place for a long moment. She stared at her with eyes that were impossible to read. She suddenly stiffened and walked to the window. Reaching out she placed her hands in the opening and rested them on the thick stone of the wall.
“I saw you looking out of the window.”
Jemma felt a shiver go down her back. There was something in the tone of her voice that seemed cold. “Yes, the sunlight drew me toward it.”
“No, that is not what drew you toward the window.” The nun spoke sharply.
Jemma jerked and pushed herself up off the pillows. The nun turned slowly and watched her while shaking her head.
“It was God who drew you to this window.
“Yes, of course, since God made all things.”
The nun had a smile on her lips that looked strange. It was almost as if the woman enjoyed seeing how much Jemma had to strain to sit up. She turned and looked out the window before turning back around to aim her attention at Jemma.
“God sent you to the window so that I might find you and finish the duty that He charged me with.”
The chill went down her back again, this time much colder because the nun was moving slowly toward her.
“What duty is that?”
“To help my husband live a pure life.” The nun’s voice turned sweet. “We shall be blessed in too many ways to count just like Abraham if we remain free of sin. But he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t trust in the gift that God can grant to those who listen to him.”
“Your husband?”
The nun moved closer and nodded. “Gordon, my husband. My father made me swear to wed him in spite of my devotion to God, but I see now that I may serve both God and my husband.”
“Imogen?”
“I am Mary Job. Sister Mary Job, and God sent you to that window so that I might know where you were and finish removing ye from tempting my sweet husband away from me.”
“Sweet Christ.” Jemma scooted across the bed, horror filling her. The woman was mad; Jemma could see the insanity burning brightly in her eyes.
“Yes . . . why yes . . . You understand. I am going to send you to our sweet savior where there shall be no earthly sin.”
“Imogen, no! This is not what God wants.” Jemma swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
Imogen didn’t like hearing her name. She frowned, her face turning red. “It is, and you are naught but a usurper! Trying to take my husband, oh whore! Ye shall not sully him! I shall smother you and remove ye from his path!”
Imogen lunged at her with her hands outstretched like the claws of a wolf. Jemma screamed and stood up. She had strength for enough steps to get to the door and pull it wide, but even the fear of her life was not enough to overcome the weakness that the poison had left. She stumbled into the wall, and Imogen slammed into her. Pain slashed through her as Imogen grabbed her braid and yanked.
“I must smother you in yer bed to show him what lust brings! Nothing but death.”
Jemma forced herself to draw enough breath in to scream again. This time the sound echoed down the stairway.
Imogen snarled and tried to drag her back into the chamber, but the door had shut, making it necessary to open it with one hand. Jemma jerked against her hold while it was divided between the door and her hair. Imogen snarled and pulled on her head, but Jemma allowed her legs to crumple, making her body dead weight. Imogen was jerked off her feet and fell over the top of her.
A shriek came from the nun’s lips as she began falling down the narrow stairs. Her hand tightened in her hair, pulling Jemma after her.
At least the truth will be known . . .
It was little comfort, and her body tumbled down the steps. Pain tore through her as her spine struck the edge of one step and then her shoulder fell against another, and over she tumbled to strike her cheek. She lacked the strength to stop her fall, and it felt like time was standing still. Jemma heard each one of her heartbeats, listened to them and discovered that the wait between one and the next was very long indeed when you were anticipating the end of your life. They fell for what seemed like an hour before landing on the bottom floor.
