How could I have been that stupid? How could I? Deirdre lay on her back, her eyes staring into the darkness of the cavern. The steady breathing of the priest telling her he had fallen asleep. Very softly she crept to the fire, added another log and slipped off to her own sleeping corner.
She had thought he was asleep when she first started undressing. There was nothing to blame herself for in that. When she had found he had been watching her though, the look of rapture on his face had touched something wicked inside. She had wanted to hurt him, make him pay for the death of old Duncan. She had wanted to punish the church that banished her knowledge and made people suffer because of ignorance and fear.
All she had wanted to do was taunt him with his obvious reaction to her naked flesh. She had wanted to mock the priest, but instead his appreciation had ignited her own lust. She had been very aware of his body when she had been taking care of him. And it had been so long, so very long. Angry with herself she balled her fists. She should have known better. He was no more than a boy. Maybe not in years, but he hadn't even seen a naked woman before.
Deirdre rolled over onto her stomach and rested her head on her arms. What in the world was she to do? There was no question of him staying here. But how could she get rid of him in a safe way? Merely kicking him out was impossible since he would then know where to find her. She had kept the cave hidden for ten years. There was no way she was going to give that up for one fuck. And a lousy fuck too. He had come almost instantly. Never giving her a chance to climax as well. Very likely he didn't even know a woman could climax. Dumb priest.
With a sigh she rolled on her back again. He would have to stay till the snow was gone; otherwise his tracks would be all over the place. That would be too foolish for words. Once the snow started melting however, she would have to get rid of him, bringing him out of the cave to a place where he could find his own way home. To make things easy, all of that had to be accomplished without him getting a chance to learn the location of her cave, her safe haven. Yes, well, that would be a piece of cake. She laughed mockingly at herself.
She would at least have some time to figure out how to do all that. Given the amount of snow it would take a few days before it had all melted away. Better get some sleep now. Finally she drifted off, her sleep troubled with uneasy dreams, vague images of being hunting and hiding.
Hardly refreshed Deirdre got up again. She wished she could take a nice, warm bath. As long as the priest was there however, that was out of the question. Grumbling she made do with the icy cold water trickling down from the mountain. She dressed hurriedly to get warm again, buttoning the purple shirtwaist with stiff fingers and smoothing the black and white striped skirt down over her hips. Her other pair of clothes was probably still damp.
Emerging from her own secluded corner, she looked over at the mattress in front of the fire. Rory had his back turned to her, but she saw the tension in his shoulders. He was awake. "You can use the water now, if you want to."
Not waiting for his reaction, she went to put a log on the fire and checked on the clothes. Feeling them still damp she moved the rack a bit to the side and bent to retrieve the blue petticoat where it had fallen on the floor. Straightening up again she felt his eyes on her. She lifted her gaze and saw his blue eyes full of turmoil; longing, desire, anguish and uncertainty all rolled into one.
"What?"
She felt irritated by that look. As if she had all the answers. In honesty, she was angrier with herself for getting them into this mess.
"Go freshen up. I'll get us something to eat." She did her best to sound a bit less harsh, but it was hard.
Turning to fetch bread and cheese, she saw him go from the corner of her eye. His shoulders and head bent down a bit, giving the impression of a kicked dog.
God, this was awful but she had to push him away, she had to. He would want to sleep with her again, that was to be expected. He would start to feel remorse though. Perhaps not right away, the pleasures of the flesh had intoxicated him, but after a while. He would come to realize he had put his soul in jeopardy. Well, in his view any way.
She sighed. He would probably blame it on her. They always did, didn't they? Those priests who knew nothing of love and warmth and sharing. Her face got a smoldering look. Scared of women, that's what they were. No real men at all. For the moment she forgot the old priest in the village, a caring and loving father to all his flock, even to her if she had been willing to abandon her healing.
Her movements were stiff and jerky from the anger still burning inside her. The platter of cheese and bread nearly bounced off the table when she plunked it down. Next she fetched a jug of beer. As she poured two tankards of the cooled liquid she watched the foam settle on top, refusing to look up when she heard his footsteps coming to the table.
She put the jug down and finally raised her eyes. A small smile appeared on her face, she could not help it. He looked so sweet with his wet hair, the drying cloth draped around his hips and a furious blush on his freckled face. No doubt because the cloth was totally unable to disguise his erection. She quickly dropped her gaze again and turned, not wanting him to feel laughed at.
"I'll fetch your clothes."
She walked to a chest and lifted his black robe out. She started closing the lid...
"Can't you take off yours?"
The sound of his voice stopped her dead in her tracks. Surely, she had not heard correctly? Slowly she turned back to look at him, her expression a study in bewilderment.
"You don't mean that. You're a priest. We shouldn't have... "
She faltered as she saw the look on his face: hurt, anger and desire.
"Am I not ... adequate? You don't want me?"
Oh God, he sounded so hurt, so small. ''Rory, this has nothing to do with wanting you. Think for a moment. You're a priest."
