Riona began to inch out of her hiding place as Eleanor backed away from him. “I—I’m tired, Percival. It’s late. Most of the other nobles had retired. I saw no need to stay.”
“Nicholas was still there. He’s the only noble you need concern yourself with.”
Riona had to move out of the way quickly as Percival sat on the bed. “Don’t lie to me. And don’t try to refuse to do as we agreed. Time’s running out, Eleanor.”
“I’m not lying to you, Percival,” she said. “But please, I beg of you, don’t make me do this. Don’t make me sell my virtue.”
“I don’t give a damn about your virtue!” Percival retorted as he got to his feet and headed toward Eleanor.
Ready to attack him, Riona moved to the edge of the bed again.
He stopped. “You’ll go to his chamber and you’ll get in his bed and you’ll let him take your maidenhead,” Percival ordered, “or God help me, you’ll wish you had when you’re kneeling in that convent.”
“I’ll go, Percival,” Eleanor replied, weeping. “I don’t want to go to a convent. I’ll do as you say. I’ll go to Sir Nicholas tonight.”
“Good. Don’t you have something else to wear, something that shows your figure to more advantage—something like Joscelind wears?”
“There’s my scarlet damask—”
“And don’t wear a shift.”
“Percival!”
Scorn fairly dripped from his words. “This is no time to be subtle.”
“Very well, Percival,” Eleanor despondently replied.
The red boots started toward the door.
“Percival?” Eleanor said, sniffling. “What if I get with child?”
“What?”
“What if I get with child?” she repeated. “People will be able to count back the days. They’ll know—”
“Damn it, who cares if they can count, as long as you’re married to him when the brat is born?” Percival approached her again. “Indeed, if we’re to be certain of him, a child could be the very thing.”
A seemingly endless moment of silence followed.
“I’ve changed my mind, cousin. I won’t interrupt you tonight. How long until your next…?”
“A fortnight,” Eleanor answered forlornly.
“Then let’s pray you’re fertile, for if you get with child, that will be all the more reason for him to marry you. Get him to love you more than once a night, if you can. I’m sure he’s capable.” Percival tapped his toe. “Perhaps I should give you some suggestions.”
“Fredella could be here any moment,” Eleanor noted quietly, and much to Riona’s relief. The last thing she wanted to hear was Percival’s suggestions.
“That old hag,” Percival muttered as he again started for the door. “You’d better please Sir Nicholas, so he lets her stay here, too.” He paused. “You needn’t look like a martyr, my dear. I doubt you’ll regret what must be done, provided he marries you, of course. Rumor has it that Nicholas of Dunkeathe is quite the lover.”
“Yes, Percival.”
The door opened. “I’ll be watching for you,” he finished as he strolled out the door.
Riona crawled out from under the bed as Eleanor started to cry again.
“I feel so filthy,” she said, her breath catching with her sobs. “How can he do this to me? How can he treat my virtue as something to be so easily thrown away?”
“Because he has no honor himself,” Riona said, putting her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “You’re very clever, letting him think not interrupting washisidea.”
