Undone (2 page)

Tightening his jaw, he glanced out the window and watched as the darkened trees threaded past. He’d been a colossal fool. And now he was caught in a treacherous trap. How the hell was he to get out of this? He wanted out. He
had
to get out. But how do you stop dancing with the devil once you’ve sold him your soul?

The carriage stopped dead with a sharp lurch, Simon’s shoulder bumping against the window frame. Instinctively, his hand shot to the hilt of his sword.

He jumped from its plush interior, sword drawn, battle-ready.

“I’m sorry, Captain.” Paul leaped down. “It is one of the wheels. We will fix it quickly, sir, and be on our way.” The young man raced around to the other side of the carriage to join the driver and the broken wheel.

The delay grated on Simon’s already thin patience, his frustration churning inside him.

Before he could utter the profanity burning up his throat, a blow to his chest shot the air from his lungs and knocked him off his feet. The back of his head slammed against the ground, dazing him. He squeezed his eyes shut. His sword, still clutched in his hand, lay with him on the packed dirt.

As he drew air back into his lungs, awareness seeped into his senses. There was a body on top of him. Not just any body, but a soft one, with ripe breasts pressed to his chest—the unmistakable body of a full-grown woman.

She gasped near his ear and struggled to an upright position. He could feel the firmness of her thighs on either side of his hips, her hands shoving at his chest, and her lower body squirming against his groin.

Steadying himself against the pain at the back of his skull, he opened his eyes. She stilled. Her gray garb and shoulder-length headdress covered her entirely, leaving her face her only visible feature.

And it was
exquisite
.

The moon’s silver light caressed her soft-looking skin, but it was her eyes that drew him. Although the night forbade him the ability to detect their true color, they were light, bright, and spectacular to behold. Her dark brows were delicately arched. Her cheekbones beautifully pronounced. And her mouth—
Dieu
. A hot current rushed through his veins as he stared at that lush mouth. Just the right fullness.

The kind of mouth sure to offer a man untold carnal bliss.

Her lips were parted. The sound of her quickened breaths burned in his ears. Inflaming him further.

Every bedazzling detail of her face and the erotic press of her lower body against his own seared into his senses.

Transfixed, he sat up slowly, his cock straining against his breeches. The heated reaction she effortlessly elicited from him was astounding. So was being suddenly knocked off his feet by a beautiful woman in an unattractive garb in the middle of the night.

Her eyes widened. She squirmed again and made to flee. The friction shot a bolt of sensations along his prick that reverberated all the way up his spine. He gripped her arms, stilling her, barely catching the groan that surged up his throat.

 “Let go!” she demanded, threads of panic and anger in her tone.

He didn’t want her to leave so soon, but he didn’t wish to scare her, and so he slackened his grasp, knowing full well she was going to bolt.

Shoving hard at his chest, she bounded to her feet.

“Wait! What is your name?” The words tumbled from his mouth. But she ran through an open iron gate and disappeared behind a stone wall.

Reeling, Simon rose and walked to the gate, ignoring the astonished looks of his men who he noticed were now standing near the horses. He’d no idea how much they’d witnessed. Nor did he care.

Paul rushed toward him. “Captain? Is everything all right?”

Simon scanned the shadowy grounds for any sign of her. “Yes.”
No.
She’d vanished. Yet she’d left him burning.

Utterly seduced.

He could see little. The umbrage of the trees hid much from view. What lunacy was this? How could such a bizarre encounter have stirred his blood this way?

Studying the stone barrier that ran parallel to the road as far as he could see, he wondered why she’d been out all alone at this hour of the night, and what such a captivating woman was doing hidden behind such a formidable wall.

“It is a convent, sir.”

He turned to Paul. “Pardon?”

“A convent.” He picked up Simon’s sword and brought it to him. “The wheel can be fixed easily. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

The carriage was the furthest thing from his mind as he stood at the threshold of the convent grounds, scanning all visible windows and openings of the stony structure.

Ah, hell.
He sheathed his sword. “Wait here.”

*****

Heart pounding, Angelica pushed open the wooden door she’d left unlocked and rushed inside. With fumbling fingers, she secured the latch, then raced down the dimly lit corridors, causing each torchère she passed to flicker and dance.

Reaching the chapel, she halted abruptly.

It was empty.

She offered an instant prayer of thanks.

Not only had she made it back in time for the Third Vigil, but she’d escaped whatever might have befallen her at the hands of the man she’d just encountered outside.

The hour was late. The road was deserted. And men who wandered about at this time of night were best avoided.

Racing to return to the convent before she was expected in the chapel, she’d emerged from the thicket and hadn’t seen the stranger, shrouded in shadow, until it was too late. She felt as though she’d collided with the stone wall that surrounded the convent instead of a man. Her chest still hurt.

She couldn’t afford to be as careless as she’d been this night. She was always guarded. Always careful. Rarely did she leave the convent. For years, she’d embraced a cloistered existence in exchange for security.

However, tonight, unable to turn her back on a family in need, she’d let her conscience win out over her caution.

And run right into danger.

She placed her hand over her agitated heart, willing it to calm. She was safe now.

In a decade,
he
had still not found her. Nor would he ever.

As long as she remained within these protective walls, she was safe.

*****

Simon entered the convent through a partially open window.

Stealthily, he made his way down long corridors, each identical with torchères that offered little light and less warmth. There was no sign of life in the dismal labyrinth.

Turning another corner, he heard a faint noise in the distance.

A voice? No. It’s singing.
And it was incredibly beautiful. Compelling.

He moved toward it, then paused before a set of ornately carved wooden doors and listened. The singing had stopped.

He pulled open a door wide enough to spy a woman, standing all alone, her back to him, wearing the same gray garb as the moonlit angel he’d met outside.

Was it her?

The chapel was rich with mosaics adorning the walls and floor—a sharp contrast to the austere corridors outside. He slipped inside, finding himself in the shadows of the back corner.

Then it happened. A soft, haunting melody came from the woman, slowly rising, the crescendo building until it filled the chapel, her magnificent voice hitting him full measure with its power and enchantment. A performance unlike any he’d ever witnessed. For a moment, he was lost in it, all that had been weighing on his conscience and soul receding.

The chapel doors slammed open, startling him.

An older woman stood in the entrance, her expression grim. She marched toward the one whose voice had enthralled him.

His gaze shot back to the songbird. She’d turned to face the intruder.

Good Lord, it
was
her—the beauty in the moonlight. As breathtaking as he’d first thought her to be.

“Well, this is a surprise,” the old nun said, her tone caustic. “You are actually early for the Hours for once.”

“Indeed, I am,
Madre
.” The beauty’s silky voice rippled through him.

“I’m glad you heeded my words. I’ll not tolerate you dashing in at the last moment any longer. Now, go take your place. The others will be here shortly.”

“As you will,” she responded, her manner regardful.

“Wait.” The Mother Superior pulled a twig from the younger woman’s garment. “What is this on your clothes?”

The moonlight beauty looked down at her garb. Small leaves and twigs had adhered to its coarse material. Smudges of dirt griming the fabric.

“Where have you been? I demand the truth!”

“Madre,” his songbird responded calmly, in contrast to the near shrill of the other woman. “There was a matter that required my attention outside the convent, and I—”

“
Outside the convent?
At this hour? Against
the rules
?”

“Yes, it was a rather important,
urgent
, matter that—”

“How dare you sneak out! You may have been a favorite of the former Madre, but she is gone now. And I will curb your willful ways. You have your own disobedience to blame for
this
.” She raised her arm.

It was then that Simon noticed the old nun held a dark walking stick. His stomach dropped.

The beauty’s hand shot out. “Madre, allow me to explain—” she tried to reason.

But the words fell on deaf ears. The stick came down. He tore out of the shadows.

The beauty cried out when it slammed into her open palm, but somehow she managed to curl her fingers around it.

The Mother Superior gave a vicious yank on the cane, causing the beauty to lose her grip. And then her footing.

“Stop!” he yelled just as the next blow struck her with brutal force, knocking her to the floor. Hard.

Simon snatched the stick out of the nun’s meaty hand, ignoring the old woman’s gasp. He snapped the cane in two, then whipped the pieces across the room before turning his attention to the motionless beauty at his feet.

“Wh-Who are you?” the Mother Superior stammered, clearly astonished by his presence. “You…You are not permitted here!”

Sinking to his knee, Simon gently lifted the unconscious woman off the cold floor and rose. Her head lolled against his shoulder, giving him full view of her elegant profile.

Already an ugly welt was forming on her lovely cheek. Seeing the senseless injury ignited his ire. She felt warm and right in his arms.
Dieu
. Who was this woman whose face was as stunning as her voice?

“What are you doing?” the nun asked. “Put her down!”

Furious, he spun around to face the older woman. Fearful, she took a step back, then turned on her heels and ran from the chapel.

“Intruder!” she screamed. “Intruder! Ring the bells!”

This was bloody perfect. He’d never done a rash thing in his entire life. And now he was standing in a convent, holding an injured woman he didn’t know. What the hell was he going to do with her?

As Simon took a step toward the door, three women dressed in similar bland garb appeared in the doorway. Upon seeing him, they shrieked, turned, and fled. He held in the expletives that resonated in his head.
Merde
.
Could this get any worse?

A fourth woman appeared in the doorway then. Only she didn’t run away. Instead, she raced straight to him. Her eyes were watery, and there were tear streaks on her cheeks, evidence that she’d been crying. Simon sensed that she’d somehow witnessed what had just transpired.

“She is injured. Where are you taking her,
signore
?” she asked.

The hell if he knew!

She grabbed his arm. “You must go,” she said. “The men from the town will be here shortly, once they hear the bells.”

The bells began to chime. Loudly.

Resonating.

Simon muttered a curse. He had no one to blame but himself and his prick for this outrageous disaster. His gaze returned to the beauty in his arms. He wanted to get her out of the convent, but to steal her away seemed as wrong as it seemed right.

“I will show you a quick way out,” the woman continued, “but you must take me with you too.”

“
What?
No!” He wasn’t about to leave this convent with two women.

“Please, I must go with you…” Fresh tears welled from her dark eyes. “She is the only family I have.”

The bells continued to toll. He couldn’t stand here and argue the matter.

“Quickly, lead the way,” he barked over the pealing bells. He’d allow her to come along for now and decide what to do with the two women later.

She turned and ran out of the chapel and into the corridor, with Simon on her heels.

“Bring her back here!” the Mother Superior screamed from the other end of the long hallway. “Gabriella! Stop! Do you hear me? By all that is holy, you will pay for what you are doing!”

The Mother Superior’s words only hastened Gabriella’s steps. She didn’t even offer a backward glance and led him down more darkened corridors before she stopped at one of the wooden doors and opened it for him. He preceded her into the room.

Gabriella darted across the room to a shelf and removed a ring of keys from behind a clay jar, then rushed to the other door in the drab chamber. Her hands were quaking, and Simon worried she was too discomposed to open the lock. But she managed to slip the iron key into the keyhole and unlock it.

The door swung open. The moon’s silver light flooded the room.

Wasting no time, they ran out the door.

The bells echoed in the darkened skies. Simon immediately spotted his carriage at the gate and headed straight for it. Paul hastened to open the carriage door at his approach.

Stepping into the carriage, Simon first laid the young woman gently across one of the seats. Then poked his head out and saw both Paul and Gabriella staring back at him. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he said to Paul.

The young man immediately jumped back up beside the driver.

Simon’s gaze locked onto Gabriella. As she stood before him in her drab gray garb, he couldn’t miss the silent plea in her eyes.

He sighed and extended a hand. “Get in.” He yanked her up.