Not on those lips. They were gone forever.
Not even on the lips she had now. Because she had vowed to never know that pleasure of life. To forego it in favor of serving others, and release her hold on her own needs. Not that it should matter. No man would ever want to kiss her anyway.
But Xander was...he was too much. He was here, right when she didn’t want him, and not fifteen years ago when she’d needed him.
Right now, she didn’t need him. She needed distance. The more Xander filled up her vision, the more faded everything else seemed to become. Xander was a look into a life that she didn’t have anymore. Couldn’t have. Didn’t want.
She just needed him gone. So that she could start to forget again.
“I suppose you should go now,” she said. “Now that you know how it is. If you’re looking for a ticket to salvation, Xander, I’m not it.”
“I’m not interested in salvation,” he said. “But I do want to do the right thing. Novel, isn’t it?”
“Well, I can’t help you. Perhaps it’s best you found your way back to the village.”
“I’m staying here tonight.”
“What?” she asked, shock lancing her.
“I spoke to the abbess, and explained the situation. I don’t want the public knowing I’m here yet, not until I’m ready. And I intend to bring you with me.”
“I see. And nothing of what I said matters?”
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “No.”
“The fact that I’m not me anymore doesn’t matter?”
He studied her face, the cold assessment saying more than any insult could. Before the attack, men...Xander...had never looked at her with ice in their eyes. There had always been heat.
“I’ll let you know in the morning.”
He turned and walked away from her, into the main building. She waited out in the yard, cursing silently and not caring that it was a sin as she stood there, hoping he was putting enough distance between them that she wouldn’t run into him again.
She would speak to the abbess tonight and in the morning, hopefully Xander would leave. And he would go back to being a memory she tried not to have.
* * *
It was early the next morning when Mother Maria-Francesca called her into her office.
“You should go with him.”
“I can’t,” Layna said, stepping back. “I don’t want to go back to that life. I want to be here.”
“He only wants you to help him get established. And as you want to serve, I think it would be good for you to serve in this way.”
“Alone. With a man.”
“If I have to concern myself with how you would behave alone with a man then perhaps this isn’t your calling.”
It wasn’t spoken in anger or in condemnation, just as a simple, quiet fact that settled in the room and made Layna feel hideously exposed. As though her motives—motives she’d often feared were less than wholly pure—were laid out before the woman she considered her spiritual superior in every way.
All that ugly fear and insecurity. Her vanity. Her anger. And old desires that never seemed to fully die. Just sitting there for anyone to see.
“It isn’t that,” Layna said. “I mean, I’m not afraid of falling into temptation.” And even less worried about Xander falling into temptation with her. “It’s just that appearances...”
“Are what men look at, my dear. But God sees the heart. So what does it matter what people might think? Of the arrangement, or of you?”
Such a simple perspective. And one of the main reasons she felt so at home here. But that didn’t mean her ease and tranquility transferred to every place she went.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” And what she wanted certainly wouldn’t come into play. She could hardly throw herself on the ground and say she didn’t want to. Of course she didn’t. True sacrifice was hard. Serving others could be hard. Neither were excuses she would accept.
“This is an opportunity to do the sort of good that most of us never get the chance to do. You have the ear of a king, in heaven and now on earth. You must use this chance.”
“I’ll...think about it. Pray...about it.” Layna blinked back tears as she walked out of the room. By the time she’d hit the hall, she was running. Out the door and to the stables.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She needed to ride.
And she did. Until the wind stung her eyes. Until she couldn’t tell if it was the burn from the air that made tears stream down her face, or the deep well of emotion that had been opened up inside of her. Threatening to pull her in and drown her.
She rode up to the top of the hill, the highest point that was easily accessible, and looked down at the waves, crashing below, against the rocks. That was how she felt. Like the waves were beating her against stone. Breaking her down.