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  PAST PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR

  For Song of Isabel

  “The setting and political intrigue are unusual and appealing . . . Readers looking for a change from Regency and Victorian romance may find this a worthwhile diversion.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Set against the backdrop of the Frankish Empire, Curtis, with her captivating storytelling, brings to life a world filled with heroic battles, distinctive characters and high-stakes tension that will keep readers turning the pages.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Set against the historical backdrop of France in 825, Curtis’ novel is a classic tale of high drama and romance . . . an easy-reading traditional love story with a romantic, nostalgic setting.”

  —Booklist

  “In this romance, a spirited young woman meets her match in a stalwart soldier during the turbulent times after the death of Charlemagne . . . An old-fashioned love story in an unusual historical milieu.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  THE NUN’S BETROTHAL

  Copyright © 2020 Ida Curtis

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

  Published 2020

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-63152-685-5

  ISBN: 978-1-63152-686-2

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020900198

  For information, address:

  She Writes Press

  1569 Solano Ave #546

  Berkeley, CA 94707

  Interior design by Tabitha Lahr

  She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

  All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  At the beginning of the ninth century, the Frankish Empire included territory that is now France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, and half of Italy. King Charles, or Charlemagne, as he became known, ruled this vast empire. He had been crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire by Pope Leo III, making him both king and emperor.

  In 814 Charlemagne died, and his son Louis took his place. Unlike his father, Charlemagne, who encouraged his daughters to have children out of wedlock, Louis was committed to the Christian view of marriage. He became known as Louis the Pious, and by 827 his influence on marriage was felt throughout the empire.

  Prologue

  Aquis, 827

  “Justin, what are you doing here?” Isabel’s exclamation caused Gilda to whip around to stare at the familiar figure.

  “I had a long ride. I wanted to cool off in the pond,” Justin answered his sister as he stared back at her companion. He had seen Gilda without her nun’s habit only once, and he remembered the way the tops of her rounded breasts had been revealed by a low-cut bodice. But her golden hair had always been under a head covering. Now it hung over her shoulders and almost concealed the shape of her breasts under the shift that was still wet from her recent swim.

  “We didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” Isabel said as she hurried to stand in front of him and block his view of her friend. She lowered her voice to whisper, “Stop staring at the poor woman!”

  “Poor woman? She’s a nun and should know better than to cavort around in her shift.” He grinned at his sister, who was doing little to repair her own state of undress. “At least she seems to be more modest than you are.”

  Because he didn’t bother to whisper his reply, Gilda heard every word. She pulled her plain brown gown over her shift and quickly wrapped her hair in a head covering. Justin had a talent for irritating her, and today he was doing an even better job than usual.

  Once presentable, Gilda stood up to him as effectively as possible, considering the fact that the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. “Nuns have been known to enjoy a swim from time to time, Justin. A gallant lord would withdraw when he came upon such a scene.”

  Ignoring the implication in her words, his eyes roamed over her dark clothing with distaste. “So, you’re still a nun. Taken your final vows yet, Sister Gilda?”

  Without answering him, Gilda spoke to Isabel. “I’m going to go ahead and change my clothes. I’ll meet you in the great hall.”

  Once Gilda was out of sight, Isabel turned on her brother. “Why are you always so rude to her? I suspect you care for Gilda more than you’re willing to admit.”

  Justin shook his head back and forth. “You’re misguided, Isabel. Ever since Gilda and I met a year ago in Aachen, you’ve plotted to bring us together. This latest ploy of naming me godfather and her godmother for your firstborn is your most obvious attempt. You are wasting your time. Gilda and I are completely unsuited in every way, and we’re smart enough to know it.”

  “Is that why you can’t take your eyes off her?”

  He was disconcerted to realize she spoke the truth. “A man can feel a completely inappropriate attraction to a woman. Don’t read too much into it. And don’t forget your friend is a nun.”

  “As you’ve guessed, she hasn’t taken her final vows,” Isabel replied, her eyes sparkling with humor. “I wonder why that’s the first thing you asked her?”

  As Gilda hurried toward the manor, she thought about Justin’s question. She hadn’t taken her final vows, but she didn’t wish to give him the satisfaction of hearing her admit it. He had implied more than once that she wasn’t serious about her vocation.

  Being a nun gave her a degree of freedom that other women only dreamed of. There was no husband or father to obey, no children to take care of, and no manor house to supervise. She had no intention of giving up that freedom.

  During the last year, she had been too busy to think about her vows. Helping the women who came to the convent for refuge took all her time and energy. The Abbess of Saint Ives, who encouraged her work, had not pressured her to finalize her pledge to God. But she did plan to do so soon. In any case, what business was it of Justin’s?

  Gilda suspected the reason he brought it up each time he saw her was because they had recently been on different sides of a domestic dispute. Justin had defended the right of a nobleman to put aside his errant wife, and she had worked on behalf of the woman. The last time they’d met, he had accused her of using her vocation to influence the bishop they were reporting to. She grinned as she remembered the case and admitted to herself that his accusation was true.

  The next afternoon, Gilda stood beside Justin as they became the godparents for the daughter of Isabel and Chetwynd, Gilda’s brother. She stared at the chubby infant who seemed to stare back with large, solemn eyes, and something stirred inside her. At the convent Gilda often helped mothers with their children. At no time had she experienced anything resembling the pull she felt toward little Natalie as she became the child’s godmother. She imagined the strength of her emotion had to do with the fact that she loved both her brother and his wife very much.

  When she felt Justin’s elbow jab her shoulder, she glared up at him, then realized that Father Ivo had been speaking to her. She was familiar with the ceremony and nodded her head to show she was aware of her responsibility as godmother. Isabel placed Natalie in her ar
ms. Charmed by the soft warmth of the little bundle, Gilda smiled at the babe who looked up at her with an expression of complete trust.

  Justin followed Gilda when she left the church. He thought she looked a little dazed. “Want to go for a walk?” he asked.

  She nodded before realizing he must have caught her in a weak moment. The last thing she desired was to be alone with Justin, but she had agreed, and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself by changing her mind. Instead she said, “You didn’t have to poke me so hard. Your elbow is a dangerous weapon.”

  “I thought nuns were supposed to pay attention when a priest is speaking.”

  “You seem to think you know a lot about nuns. For your information, we’re not that different from other people. We swim in ponds and lose track of what’s going on, just like other women.”

  Justin thought about how she had looked soaking wet with the sun shining on her hair and her shift clinging to her body. She was wrong about one thing; she had looked very different from any woman he had ever seen. He shook his head to dislodge the disturbing picture that kept pushing into his thoughts.

  “Where are we going, Justin?” she asked, not bothering to disguise her impatience.

  He wasn’t sure. His only thought was to get her as far away from the other celebrants as possible, although he couldn’t have said why. When he realized he had headed toward the pond, the scene of the vision he couldn’t shake, he decided it was best to walk elsewhere.

  “To the vineyard.” He changed direction as he answered and asked, “Have you always wanted to be a nun?”

  The man was obsessed! “No, of course not. I was eight when my father sent me to the Convent at Saint Ives to be educated. When I was twelve, he found me a husband and proposed a match. I pleaded to stay at Saint Ives another two years. The count he wished me to marry had children almost as old as I was, and I didn’t look forward to becoming his wife. Fortunately, my father did not force me to marry.

  “By the time I was fourteen, when another match was proposed, I had decided I wished to stay at the convent. I enjoyed my life there. My father, who thought it might be to his advantage to have someone praying for him, agreed.”

  They had reached the edge of the valley and stood looking down the hill. Rows of grapevines extended as far as they could see. It seemed natural to stop and view the long, straight lines of green foliage. Gilda dropped gracefully to the ground, pulling her skirt around her raised knees. After a moment’s hesitation, Justin sat beside her.

  “Speaking of marriage, what about you, Justin? Have you and Lady Lilith decided to marry?” Gilda knew from Isabel that they had been lovers for some years. She could see from his darkening eyes that he didn’t like personal questions.

  “We never had plans to marry. The lady is a widow with two sons who wishes to protect their inheritance by remaining a widow. The arrangement suits us both, since I have no need of a wife and no intention of taking one.”

  “Most of the king’s ministers are married. I’ve heard he prefers it that way. A very proper king, which is why we call him Louis the Pious.”

  “The king has done a great deal to support the Christian view of marriage, as you well know. That doesn’t mean I have to adhere to his wishes in my own personal life.”

  Gilda turned away to hide her grin. “You seem a little sensitive. You were asking me personal questions. I didn’t think you’d mind answering a few yourself.”

  “Lady Lilith and I have an understanding. There are advantages to having a friendship with a woman. As a nun, you probably wouldn’t understand, Gilda.”

  Justin leaned back on his elbows, knowing he sounded defensive and not wishing to meet her eyes. From his position behind Gilda, he could see a lock of her golden hair that had come loose from her head covering. Without giving his action much thought, he reached up and pulled her head covering off.

  Gilda whipped around and gave him a shove that sent him onto his back. He could see surprise in her blue eyes, but he also thought he saw something that looked like curiosity. He reached up, wrapped her hair around his hand, and pulled her on top of him. He could see it now. Definitely curiosity. He pulled her face closer and kissed the lips that were about to open in protest.

  The firm lips under hers moved in a seductive manner that Gilda found enticing. She had always wondered what a kiss would be like, but she hadn’t imagined it could send intriguing flutters to other parts of her body. She moved her lips against his, and the feeling increased. She heard a soft moan and wasn’t sure whether it was in her throat or his. When Justin’s lips became more demanding, Gilda forced herself to pull back.

  Justin saw the startled look in her eyes and released her immediately. “Did you find the answer you were looking for?” he asked as she pushed herself to a sitting position.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied as she concentrated on pushing her hair under her head covering.

  “Come, Gilda. Nuns don’t lie,” he said, his words reminding him who she was. “You were curious. I wondered what you thought.”

  “It was a pleasant kiss.” Gilda told herself that an understatement wasn’t a lie. “I guess I can understand at least one of the advantages of the friendship between you and Lady Lilith.”

  “Pleasant.” Justin repeated the one-word description before laughing. He stood up and offered her his hand. “I’m more than happy to assist with your secular education, Sister Gilda.”

  Gilda ignored his mocking tone and his offered hand. An innate sense told her it was best not to touch him again so soon. She had learned that touching Justin had a disturbing effect on her.

  “I don’t think I’ll be in need of any further education from you,” she managed to say as she struggled to her feet.

  “You’d better take your vows soon, Gilda,” he warned.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Convent at St. Ives, 828

  Striking the dry earth with her hoe, Sister Gilda continued the tedious chore of self-imposed penance that she had begun several hours earlier at daybreak. Since Gilda was a well-liked and respected member of the community, her toil raised some eyebrows, but no questions were asked. That didn’t mean that the reason for her penance wasn’t a source of speculation by more than a few who watched the young nun turning soil in the convent garden.

  The Convent of Saint Ives was located south of Aachen, the location of King Louis’s favorite palace. It was a teaching convent run by the sisters of the Holy Cross. Young girls came to the convent to study, some staying to become nuns and others returning home to marry. Although Gilda was well past the age when the decision was usually made, she had not taken her final vows. She had chosen to stay at the convent and become a teacher. Her capability had led to other assignments that gave her a chance to travel beyond Saint Ives.

  When a nun approached Gilda to tell her she’d been summoned by the abbess, she was only too happy to lay down her hoe and clap the dirt from her aching hands. She was still brushing dust from her dark habit as she hurried into Abbess Ermguerrd’s workroom. But her step slowed when she saw the familiar figure standing to the right of Mother Superior. Gilda had hoped and prayed she’d never lay eyes on Lord Justin again.

  There wasn’t a hair of his abundant brown locks out of place, a fact that reminded Gilda that she had pushed her head covering out of the way while she was working and hadn’t bothered to readjust it. His doublet was a fine blue cloth perfectly tailored to his tall, well-formed body. Before Gilda looked away, she saw a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he took in her rumpled appearance. After one last vigorous brush at her habit that left the brown material swirling around her legs, Gilda lifted her chin and looked to the abbess for an explanation of Justin’s presence.

  “I believe you know Lord Justin, Gilda.”

  Finding her throat dry from the dust, Gilda nodded.

  When they first met in Aachen, she had been dressed in an elegant gown to disguise the fact that she was a nun. It was a s
trategy she had used a few times when she needed to blend into the court scene to gather information to help one of the women she was representing. At the time, she couldn’t help but enjoy the admiration she had seen in his eyes. But later, when Justin learned she was a nun, he had made his displeasure at her deception clear. She remembered the words he’d spoken to her brother Chetwynd: “Your sister should get herself back to the nunnery.” And although the hostility between them had lessened when they next met, they remained uneasy in each other’s company.

  The abbess ignored the young nun’s cool reaction toward their visitor and said, “King Louis has requested your assistance, Sister Gilda. No doubt he remembers the last time you mediated a dispute.”

  Gilda stole a glance at Justin and waited for Ermguerrd to continue.

  “The case concerns Lady Mariel, the young woman who came to us a month ago for a religious retreat. When it was time for her to return home, she told us that she feared for her life. We gave her shelter. It seems her husband, Count Cedric, has applied for a divorce. The king is reluctant to see the marriage of one of his counts dissolved. He has requested that you assist Lord Justin in mediating the matter.”

  The end of a marriage between two noble houses often had far-reaching political implications. It was not unusual for the king to enlist someone from a religious community, as well as a secular representative, to make inquiries. King Louis was determined that his subjects adhere to the Christian practice of marrying for life. But even he recognized that sometimes there were extenuating circumstances. In such cases a bishop or archbishop could annul a marriage.

  “I don’t know Lady Mariel well,” Gilda pointed out. “Perhaps you should find someone to take my place, Mother Ermguerrd.”

  Clearly surprised by her words, the abbess stared at Gilda for a minute before saying, “The king asked for you by name, Gilda. I suspect he is pleased with the way in which you represented the church in the past. Besides, there is no one else as well equipped for the task. I’m sure Countess Mariel will be comfortable with you.”