Nathan straightened, a frown on his face. This was not the Sara from yesterday, but rather the one he had met weeks ago. “Are you cold?” he asked, doubting she was with her robe tied up so tightly.
“No.”
He moved around the sofa to sit beside her. He saw her eyes glance at him and widen at his nudity before averting to look out the window again. Instead of the expected blush, however, her face paled.
“Please,” she whispered, “could you cover yourself up?”
“No,” he replied. “There is nothing wrong with nudity. It is the way we are made.”
Her head bowed and she looked at her hands clasped in her lap. Nathan gazed at her red hair, made even more unruly from sleep, the dark circles under her eyes, the way she chewed her lower lip and wrung her hands. Something was definitely bothering her. “How long have you been awake?”
“A couple of hours, I think.”
“Did you not sleep well?”
She shook her head. Nathan reached over to cover her hands. “Come back to bed. I will help you get back to sleep.”
She shook her head again in refusal, pulling her hands out from underneath his.
He frowned. He could not understand why she was being so resistant to his help. “What is wrong, Nymph?”
Another shake of her head. “Nothing.”
“I will have to disagree with that statement,” he said, his voice holding a slight edge.
“Please, don’t be angry,” she whispered.
“Sara,” he began, but heard the bite remaining in his tone. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He knelt before her. “Sara,” he started again, taking her hands once more. His arms moved her robe and the material shifted to reveal her bare knees. A primal thrill shot through his veins at the knowledge that she was naked underneath her robe, a thrill that died quickly when he saw the discolorations on them.
He reached for her knees. “What happened?” he asked, concern erasing everything else.
She brushed his hands away and covered her knees again. “Nothing.” She did not look up at him.
“Did this happen yesterday while riding? I didn’t see you fall or do anything that might have caused these.”
“They are nothing,” she repeated.
“Was it something I did? Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“How did you get these bruises?”
“It is nothing, please.”
“Sara,” he struggled to keep his voice even. “Tell me.”
She remained silent, but her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together, obviously thinking. She took a deep breath. “They are from the floor of the bathing room.”
“Did you fall?”
“Something like that.”
“Are you hurt more severely? I shall send for the doctor.”
She shook her head. “No, that is not necessary. I am fine.”
He looked at her, his patience wearing thin. “How did you get these bruises?”
“I—I was kneeling. Praying.”
“You must have been praying for some time to get these bruises.”
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Why were you praying so hard?”
“It—um, it was necessary.”
“Because of what we have been doing?”
She nodded.
Nathan pursed his lips together. “But was it necessary to harm yourself?”
“Penance requires sacrifice.”
“To the extent of physical injury? That does not seem in accordance with a forgiving, loving God.”
“Penance requires sacrifice,” she repeated more quietly. How she made her voice that quiet, he did not know.
He furrowed his brow. “Who told you that? Was it your father?”
She shook her head.
“Another vicar? Or a bishop?” Dread was rising up in him. Nathan was beginning to see deeper implications in her behavior and it sickened him. To think someone had taken advantage of her to the extent that she was still suffering from it. If he ever got his hands on the man who—
“My mother.”
Nathan sat back on his heels. “I beg your pardon?”
“My mother is the one who told me that. She was very concerned about the state of my soul.”
“She made you do this to yourself? Frequently?”