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Behind me, the soldiers are getting restless with the need to load these women onto the bus and complete today’s mission. They’re probably already thinking of ways they can blow their pay on booze and sex. We are only waiting on two more of our charges, the nun I’ve just spoken with and the young woman she believes can bring everyone of the male sex to their knees.
Again, I have the urge to laugh. Not going to happen.
My eyes narrow when Mother Superior emerges from the stone building with a small figure at her side. It’s a second nun in the customary robe, except hers has a large hood attached that covers her head and shadows her face. A rosary is fashioned around her waist, the cross dangling at her stomach.
A finger of uneasiness tickles the back of my neck and I frown over the involuntary reaction. It’s probably just my senses reminding me to be on guard during the journey ahead, since we’ll be going through locations of unrest.
The nuns stop in front of me, Mother Superior looking more uneasy than ever.
A second later I find out why.
“Private Griffin,” Mother Superior says quietly, positioning herself so that she’s blocking everyone else’s view of the second nun. “This is Sister Mercy. Please keep her safe, as we discussed.”
Then Sister Mercy looks up at me.
Claws embed themselves in my gut and I make a sound.
The ground rushes up at me and I brace for impact, but when I shake my head, I’m still standing—staring—at the most beautiful woman who ever walked the earth. Her eyes. I can’t even believe they’re real. Huge and golden and hopeful. Her hair is mostly hidden beneath her habit, but little auburn strands peek out at her temples. There’s a smattering of freckles across her nose, making me think of nighttime stars that sometimes pop up early, at sunset. And her mouth…
It’s not a mouth that belongs to a nun.
It’s a mouth designed for sinning. With me.
The need to taste it causes a static roar in my ears.
“I see you’re not as immune to her as your captain claimed you would be,” Mother Superior says. “Perhaps we should find someone else to escort her—”
“No.”
Sister Mercy will be put in someone else’s protection over my dead body. She would be mauled by the debauched men in my regiment.
Hell, I think a man of the cloth might break his vows for a taste.
Any man would. My own cockis stiff and pressing against my uniform pants. One look at her has turned me into one of the horny animals I typically scorn—and that pisses me right off.
With a growl, I pump my rifle in one hand. “Keep your head down and don’t give me any trouble.” I take her by the elbow through her robe. “Let’s move.”
CHAPTER TWO
Sister Mercy
Oh no.
This is terrible.
Private Griffin obviously doesn’t like me and now I will make it my mission to change his mind. I can’t help it. I always do this. Last year, right before I turned eighteen, Sister Mary Margaret transferred to our convent and I spilled milk on her during our first breakfast together. She couldn’t stand me after that, so of course, I showed up at her room every morning with fresh berries, coffee and a line of scripture, trying to start fresh.
Sister Mary Margaret transferred again. To get away from me.
It’s a horrible flaw in my personality, this frantic need to make people like me, but as Private Griffin urges me onto the bus, I can already feel a ramble building in my throat. He’s in for it now, poor man.
Midway up the stairs, he stops and turns. “Head down. Stay close.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I say brightly. “I know the drill.”
His grumbling sound vibrates the air between us. “We’re going all the way to the back. You’re going to sit in the corner, stay there and be silent.”
“Ooh, I don’t know about that. Can we compromise on whispering?”
“Why can’t you just be quiet?”
Wow. He’s even meaner than Sister Mary Margaret. And twice is tall, with lots of muscles, not that I’m noticing something like that. I’m not supposed to notice a man’s physical attributes and I’m definitely not. It’s against the rules.
“I’ll try to be quiet.”
Private Griffin makes another one of those prolonged grunting sounds and continues guiding me up the stairs. I keep my eyes downcast, letting him pull me to the back of the bus and deposit me in the very back row, up against the window. He takes a seat beside me, blocking me in with his enormous body. From beneath my hood, I can see his knees digging into the back of the seat in front of us, which is saying something, because the rows are quite spacious.
The bus lurches forward and with my heart in my throat, I say goodbye to the old convent as it passes in the window, the only home I’ve ever known. I’m going to miss it forever. Even the winter drafts and mice and creaky floors. I’ll miss my window facing the distant mountains, especially when they’re capped in snow. And I’ll miss—
