Heaven's Fire by Patricia Ryan

young man winced. “But I’ve had this shop for years, and I can’t bear it give it up. Also, I live right upstairs”—he pointed toward a narrow staircase in the rear of the shop, near a stack of coffins—”so I don’t fancy letting someone else conduct business down here. I like my privacy.”
    The oaken table on which the young patient sat was long enough for a man to lie upon, and featured a carved channel along the edge for blood, as well as leather restraints with buckles, not in use at present. A smaller table laid out with surgical tools stood to the side, and cupboards lined the walls. The coffins in back attested to the difficulty and unpredictability of the surgeon’s art. Rainulf doubted he would have the stomach for such work.
    Geary assisted the young man off the table and helped him on with his cappa. “Keep that arm clean, boy,” he ordered, then held out his hand. His patient withdrew his purse, made payment, and took his leave.
    “By the way, Master Geary,” Rainulf said, “it’s not ‘Father’ anymore. I’ve just received word that the Pope has released me from my vows.”
    The surgeon frowned as he counted the coins. “I didn’t know that was possible.”
    “Neither did I, until I did it.”
    “So this was something you wanted.”
    “Aye.”
    “Then you must celebrate. There’s a public house next door. Let’s share a pint, shall we? I’ll even pay, providing you promise not to call me ‘Master Geary.’” He grinned and pocketed the silver. “The name’s Will.”
    The public house in question turned out to be the downstairs room of a brothel. As soon as the two men were seated, half a dozen working wenches gathered around their table, all silken smiles and undulating hips. The boldest—and prettiest—laid claim to Rainulf immediately, planting herself firmly on his lap and pressing his hands to her ample bosom.
    “You’re wasting your time, Hulda,” said one of the other whores. “I recognize that one. He’s a priest.”
    “Are you, now,” Hulda purred as she wrapped her arms around him; Rainulf dropped his hands to her waist. “I’ve got some impure thoughts to confess, Father... thoughts I started having as soon as you walked through that door.” Bringing her painted mouth close to his ear, she shared those thoughts in a voice throaty with sexual promise. She whispered things she could do to him... things she’d let him do to her.
    Will chuckled. “Your ears are turning the most remarkable color... Father .”
    Rainulf’s body reacted to her lewd suggestions, even as he sought some graceful way to extricate himself from her clutches. Hulda felt his grudging response. “Ah,” she murmured, lifting her skirt and placing his hand between her warm thighs, “this is what you need.”
    “Yes,” said Rainulf, realizing how pointless it would be to deny what was patently obvious. Nevertheless, he withdrew his hand and lowered her skirt. “But I am obliged to resist.” Grinning, he nodded toward Will. “Perhaps my companion...”
    “Him?” Hulda snorted in derision and rose from his lap. “That one never goes with any of the girls.”
    “They’re diseased, most of them,” Will said.
    “Liar!” Hulda spat out.
    Ignoring her, Will lifted his tankard. “I seek my... diversion... elsewhere, and if you value your health, I’d counsel you to do the same.”
    The girls dispersed in a huff, whereupon Will leaned across the table toward Rainulf and said, in a low voice, “If it’s a woman you want, I’ll find you a clean one.”
    Rainulf swallowed down a goodly portion of his ale. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ve resisted the temptations of the flesh for eleven years now. I think I can manage to continue doing so.”
    “But why should you? You’ve been released from your vow of chastity, have you not?”
    “I’m sure you know that even lay teachers are, by custom, celibate.”
    Will chuckled. “You and I both know that’s more a