vibrated with indignation. He was impressed with her passion, if not with her speech.
“We have the same flaws and desires as those we serve,” she continued, waving a hunk of bread in the air. “How can one expect a man to live perfect, without a wife, or a woman to ignore the cry of the womb? There are very few who can be expected to answer the call of celibacy in order to pay homage to an ideal. In this, at least, the Church must change, or there will be no one left to perform its offices.”
“You don’t think a man might be faithful to an ideal for its own sake?” he interrupted.
She stopped, and seemed to sink in upon herself. She gazed past him, into the flames, and drew the rug tighter around her shoulders.
“It depends on the man, I suppose,” she said dully. “I have not met him yet, if he exists.”
He stared at her delicate, forlorn profile.
“Does your womb cry out to be filled?” he asked softly.
She turned shocked eyes his way.
Sabina’s breath stopped when his gaze flowed over her like green silk. Then she realized …
Children. He must be speaking about children. What gutter had her mind fallen into for her to assume anything else?
She exhaled carefully. “You mean do I desire children?”
He nodded, his slight hesitation hardly noticeable.
“For a time I had hoped …” She shrugged. “In so many ways, a child has only her mother to stand between her and the world. What woman would not yearn for that? To love completely, to give everything, to protect with your very life—”
“To protect?” he asked, obviously surprised.
She bristled. “Yes. A woman has just as much need to protect those she loves as does a man.”
He straightened. “That’s absurd. A woman’s place is not to protect, but to be protected. It’s a man’s duty to see to those under his care.”
Her chin rose and she met his challenging glare.
“A duty many choose to ignore. My own adoptive father is a prime example.”
“He is an aberration,” he shot back.
“Granted. But the law, convention, the Church—all of them refuse to acknowledge the aberrations, and so unwanted children litter the streets. Where at least a boy may make something of himself, if he is strong and bold, the only choices the girls have left are the bawdy house or the cloister.”
“That doesn’t justify—” Wolf began, but stopped. A begrudging smile, a wry glance. “You’re an interesting woman, Baronesse. There you sit, sodden as a drowned rat, and yet you would debate society’s ills with me.”
She smiled. “You started it.”
His bark of laughter nearly shook the walls. It had a rusty, rarely used quality about it. Still, she found herself smiling broader in response. She had been enjoying herself, and she guessed he had as well. He shook his head, and tried, rather unsuccessfully, she thought, to wipe the grin from his face.
He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, now decently covered with a shirt, and considered her anew. He rubbed one finger over his jaw, and the movement drew Sabina’s gaze. They fascinated her, those hands. Mayhap it was because, despite their size, they were steady, gentle, and strong. She had discovered that when he had lifted her onto Suleiman, and again when she had taken the cup of wine from him.
“Are you a heretic, then?” he asked.
She started. “Nay, of course not. I believe in our Lord Jesus Christ. I believe he was crucified for our sins, and raised from the dead after three days to sit at the right hand of God. I believe he is both the Son of God, and God made manifest. As to the rest, well, I will let those more learned than I sort it out.”
She turned away, avoiding his intelligent eyes. “I suppose you could say I am a realist. I see what is, not what others want me to see.”
He came to her then, placed a finger under her chin, and turned her head so she faced him. She stared up at him, dark blue eyes clashing with emerald green.
“A dangerous
“We have the same flaws and desires as those we serve,” she continued, waving a hunk of bread in the air. “How can one expect a man to live perfect, without a wife, or a woman to ignore the cry of the womb? There are very few who can be expected to answer the call of celibacy in order to pay homage to an ideal. In this, at least, the Church must change, or there will be no one left to perform its offices.”
“You don’t think a man might be faithful to an ideal for its own sake?” he interrupted.
She stopped, and seemed to sink in upon herself. She gazed past him, into the flames, and drew the rug tighter around her shoulders.
“It depends on the man, I suppose,” she said dully. “I have not met him yet, if he exists.”
He stared at her delicate, forlorn profile.
“Does your womb cry out to be filled?” he asked softly.
She turned shocked eyes his way.
Sabina’s breath stopped when his gaze flowed over her like green silk. Then she realized …
Children. He must be speaking about children. What gutter had her mind fallen into for her to assume anything else?
She exhaled carefully. “You mean do I desire children?”
He nodded, his slight hesitation hardly noticeable.
“For a time I had hoped …” She shrugged. “In so many ways, a child has only her mother to stand between her and the world. What woman would not yearn for that? To love completely, to give everything, to protect with your very life—”
“To protect?” he asked, obviously surprised.
She bristled. “Yes. A woman has just as much need to protect those she loves as does a man.”
He straightened. “That’s absurd. A woman’s place is not to protect, but to be protected. It’s a man’s duty to see to those under his care.”
Her chin rose and she met his challenging glare.
“A duty many choose to ignore. My own adoptive father is a prime example.”
“He is an aberration,” he shot back.
“Granted. But the law, convention, the Church—all of them refuse to acknowledge the aberrations, and so unwanted children litter the streets. Where at least a boy may make something of himself, if he is strong and bold, the only choices the girls have left are the bawdy house or the cloister.”
“That doesn’t justify—” Wolf began, but stopped. A begrudging smile, a wry glance. “You’re an interesting woman, Baronesse. There you sit, sodden as a drowned rat, and yet you would debate society’s ills with me.”
She smiled. “You started it.”
His bark of laughter nearly shook the walls. It had a rusty, rarely used quality about it. Still, she found herself smiling broader in response. She had been enjoying herself, and she guessed he had as well. He shook his head, and tried, rather unsuccessfully, she thought, to wipe the grin from his face.
He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, now decently covered with a shirt, and considered her anew. He rubbed one finger over his jaw, and the movement drew Sabina’s gaze. They fascinated her, those hands. Mayhap it was because, despite their size, they were steady, gentle, and strong. She had discovered that when he had lifted her onto Suleiman, and again when she had taken the cup of wine from him.
“Are you a heretic, then?” he asked.
She started. “Nay, of course not. I believe in our Lord Jesus Christ. I believe he was crucified for our sins, and raised from the dead after three days to sit at the right hand of God. I believe he is both the Son of God, and God made manifest. As to the rest, well, I will let those more learned than I sort it out.”
She turned away, avoiding his intelligent eyes. “I suppose you could say I am a realist. I see what is, not what others want me to see.”
He came to her then, placed a finger under her chin, and turned her head so she faced him. She stared up at him, dark blue eyes clashing with emerald green.
“A dangerous
Similar Books
