You can find Part I on 1st October and Part II on 3rd October posts.
PART III
Andrew looked at her. "Don't cry, please. I’ll make
sure that nothing bad will ever happen to you. I’ll do my best and help you
forget your troubled life. I promise."
"Yes," she said in a voice full of agony and bowed
her head to prevent him from seeing the silent tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Yes, I believe you."
Andrew brought his mare to a sudden stop, almost colliding
with Genevieve's horse. They were by the mossy banks of the stream. He reached
across and touched her wet face. "Have faith, my love. I'll always love
you and stand by you. These three days, I thought only about you and your
future. Our future. Your face didn't leave my mind for one single moment.
Nothing in the world matters to me more than you."
"I know, Andrew, I know. I feel the same."
"And... I intended to tell you something after reaching
my mother's manor. I think I can't postpone it until then." He caught
Genevieve's hand and met her gaze. "Dear Genevieve, please, would you do
me the greatest honor of agreeing to become my wife? I want to spend the rest
of my life making you happy. I'll help you forget all your troubled past.
Mother will move soon to my sister's castle. She wants to be close to her
little grandsons, so don't worry about having a mother-in-law on your
head."
Since she didn't utter a word, Andrew went on assuring her
of his most honorable intentions. "The course of our lives depends on your
answer. If you agree, we'll both have to leave our clerical life. God will
forgive us. God's not spiteful or vengeful, and He doesn't punish those having
a pure, honest heart. He can read deep in our souls and can see we still love
Him. He's kind and forgiving, and will understand our love for each other is
untainted... and He will approve of it."
Caressing Genevieve's hand he continued, "I'm not
rushing you. Take your time, my delicate wood anemone. I'm willing to do
everything in the world for you."
Genevieve nodded. Her heart drummed in her chest with
happiness at his words. Tears of elation welled in her eyes. Despite her
happiness, she shivered under the nagging feeling of close danger that gripped
her body in its cold claws. An irrational fear clogged her heart.
"Oh, Andrew, I love you too, and yes, I'll gladly
become your wife, but what about your family?" Her voice trailed off. She
raised her hand and touched his face as if to make sure he was real. "I'm
so afraid--”
Andrew brushed his lips across her hand. "No need to be
afraid. I'm not hurrying you, my darling. There's no trouble with my family.
We'll talk later after we safely reach my house.” He took off a cross that he
wore round his neck and held it out to her.
Here, wear this cross. The Abbess forced it on me last week. She said
she'd be offended if I refused her present. I wanted to return the cross to
her, three days ago, but the circumstances made me forget all about it."
Genevieve shook her head reluctantly. Andrew insisted
gently. "It doesn't matter that she gave it to me. It can’t harm you. It's
a cross, after all. Take it, please, to protect you, my precious wood
anemone," he whispered and held out a richly bejeweled cross she
recognized at once. The cross the Abbess wore around her neck all the time,
until a couple of weeks ago.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at the sight
of the cross Andrew presented her. Genevieve shrugged. “Everything touched by
that evil woman bears her demonic seal."
"Nonsense. Please, take it." He punctuated his
reassurance with a soft caress on her cheek.
She took the cross from Andrew. As soon as she touched the
golden chain a chill pricked the tips of her fingers. The unpleasant coldness
spread through her body, making her shudder. Dark feelings passed over her in a
dizzy spell. She didn't say anything and slipped the cross around her neck. She
trusted him and his judgment, and in view of what he said, the piece of jewelry
represented her belief and his love, not something evil.
Andrew turned his horse and headed along the narrow path in
silence.
Genevieve pressed a hand to her breast to calm her humming
panic. Any other woman would have been thrilled by Andrew's proposal. In her,
his words triggered contradictory feelings. On the one hand, it confirmed, once
again, his deep love and honest intentions for her. On the other hand her mind
returned to a day, years ago, when she talked to the former Abbess, the late
and regretted Sister Dominica, about joining the order and Sister Dominica's
slight hesitation.
The old woman read her like an open book. Dominica foresaw
that Genevieve would be easy prey to her body's desires; that she wasn't made
for a life of piety.
"Was my father
right when he claimed all his children were seeds of evil? Am I a seed of evil
too?" she bitterly whispered to herself.
Doubt swamped her. What was the right thing to do? It was
difficult to decide when she'd just tasted the bittersweet savor of love.
What if time and life together turned her and Andrew into
another couple resembling her parents? 'The happily ever after,' the blissful
ending of the stories Genevieve's mother used to tell her, never came true for
her parents, no matter how deep their love had been at first.
They'd also married, against the will of others, because
they were madly in love. Their love turned sour over the years, quenched by a
life of difficulties and want, ending in the tragedy that brought her to live
at the abbey.
Thinking back over her life, starting with her childhood
days, Genevieve concluded she brought only misfortune to the people around her;
above all to the ones she cared about: her family and her few friends, old
Bertha, sister Benedicta, Francesca and Ryan. All dead.
Andrew was the first and only man she'd ever loved. For his own good she had to reject his
proposal. She must tell him she changed her mind. He'd never know the way her
skin tingled under the warm touch of his hand. How her heart quickened at
hearing him call her my wood anemone. He'd never know her love for him was the
most beautiful thing to have ever happened to her.
If only everything hadn't been so complicated.
No, she couldn't risk his life too. Her presence next to him
and her feelings for him might become a curse bringing him an undeserved death.
God would punish him because of her. For loving her. A knot tightened in her
chest. If something bad happened to Andrew it would be solely her fault.
She wouldn't let it happen. If love meant sacrifice, she
must do it. For Andrew's sake, she ought to accept even the bitter sacrifice of
her one and only love.
When they reached the manor house, she would find a moment
to talk to Andrew's mother and tell her she decided to join another abbey. It
might upset and distress Andrew. He’d recover after a while, understand and
forgive her, and in the end forget her. Genevieve didn't doubt that such a
piece of news might bring Andrew's mother great relief. Her son wouldn't leave
his clerical life, bringing shame and dishonor on all his kin, at what he intended
to do -- leave his priesthood and marry a nun.
Genevieve shook her head in deep thought. Was she the
Genevieve who years ago made up her mind never to love and trust a man? The
Genevieve who took vows of celibacy? The one who considered God her bridegroom?
Yes, she was probably all those Genevieves, adding to them the Genevieve who
discovered love, the special feeling enlightening the spirit. Something she, no
doubt, didn't deserve.
Andrew's horse neighing nervously startled Genevieve back to
reality. She followed Andrew's disconcerted gaze and waited.
He narrowed his eyes as if to guess the right way to follow.
They'd been riding in darkness for about an hour, and Genevieve couldn't break
free from the nagging sensation they had lost their way.
The mist had cleared a bit. Dismayed she discovered they
were back at the stream, a clear sign they'd moved in a circle. It meant they’d
wasted precious time. The Abbess might have already noticed her disappearance.
The thought that the nuns wouldn't leave the abbey to go down to the village
and ask the villagers to start a search party until morning calmed Genevieve a
little.
Andrew dismounted his horse and helped her climb down too.
He knelt by a hollowed oak tree, that stretched its branches over the water,
and washed his face in the cool waters running between the grassy 
banks.
banks.
Genevieve moistened her lips and brow. The whisper of threat
enveloping them became almost palpable, no matter how hard she banished the
thought from her mind. She sighed, a barely audible sound of distress, still
loud enough for him to turn a concerned look to her. A sickening sense of
inevitability gripped her heart, warning her about the menacing stillness
closing in on them. It had to do with the Abbess, no doubt.
Andrew pulled her to his chest. "Do you regret you've
come with me?"
Passion smothered Genevieve's doubt and guilt.
"Never," she answered, aware of her body's response to his touch, and
she succumbed to his embrace.
The moonlight bathed his face in silver light. Andrew
lowered her wimple, and his fingers threaded into her curls. She swayed,
enveloped by the dizzy sensation of drowning in the tumultuous ocean of his
gaze. The tenderness of his touch raised in her the wish they had lived in
another time and been simple, ordinary people. She longed to feel the warmth of
his lips on hers. How much she'd have liked to live the rest of her life beside
him and bear his children. A dream not likely to ever come true for her. Why
not let the feeling lurking in the pit of her stomach take over and consume her
whole being?
Aware of the track of her thoughts, she shifted uneasily, a
hot flush warmed her cheeks. Drawing in a deep breath in spite of herself,
calming the gnawing unease in her mind and the thought of Sister Dominica guessing
she was the dough of a sinner, Genevieve repeated, "Never."
With her eyes closed and their bodies touching she became,
for the very first time, simply a woman. She melted in his embrace in spite of
the invisible vicious threat breathing around them. Aware they might never be
alone again, she fought hard to silence the voice of conscience berating her.
"Oh, God. Please forgive me," Andrew muttered
under his breath when he bowed his head to kiss her. Their lips met in a
passionate first kiss.
End of Prologue
