Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [217]
And then he understood, and smiled kindly.
“Yes,” he said, “I have. You needn’t worry.”
So he led her into the house where it was shadowy except for the patch of afternoon sunlight coming through the doorway. And he was going to help her off with her cloak, but she motioned him back; and then, in front of him, she calmly stepped out of her clothes and stood before him naked.
He caught his breath. Her body was pale and slim, her breasts a little fuller than he had expected—she was the most beautiful woman, he thought, that he had ever seen. He moved towards her.
Two days later, they met again. It was necessary this time to take the knight in his lodgings into his confidence. With some amusement, and a congratulatory pat on the back, his companion assured Peter that he would be gone until nightfall, and he was as good as his word. Before she left this time, Fionnuala had arranged to return the following evening. How could she make these arrangements to visit him in the town without arousing suspicion, he had asked her. It was simple, she had explained. She had started working at the hospital again, and passed through the town on her way. “So when I want to come here, I tell them at the hospital that I need to go home; and when I get home, I say I’ve just come from the hospital. Nobody will ever be the wiser.”
Soon they were making passionate love every other day. And then Fionnuala suggested: “I could spend the night tomorrow.”
“Where would we meet?” he asked.
“There’s a storehouse down by the quay,” she said.
It turned out to be a delightful place. The storehouse stood at the end of the wood quay. It had a loft containing bales of wool. There was a large double door at one end of the loft that opened over the water, with a view eastwards down the river towards the sea. The summer night was short and warm; the bales of wool made a pleasant bed; and at dawn, they opened the doors and saw the sun rising over the estuary, flooding the Liffey with light, while they made love again.
Later, after they had eaten the provisions they had brought with them, Fionnuala slipped away towards the western gate, where they would assume that she had just come through the town from her home. Peter waited awhile and then, just as the first people were stirring on the quay, he made his way back towards his lodgings.
He had started up the Fish Shambles when he saw Gilpatrick.
For a moment, he wondered if he could avoid him. But Gilpatrick had already seen him. He was coming towards him, smiling.
“Good morning, Peter. You are up early.” Gilpatrick was surveying him with some amusement. Peter realised that he probably looked a mess after last night. He put his hand up to his hair to smooth it. “You look as if you had a rough night,” Gilpatrick said, with a twinkle in his eye. “You had better go to church and make a good confession.” But behind the gentle teasing, Peter also sensed a hint of priestly reproof.
“I couldn’t sleep actually,” he said. “Have you ever stood on the quay and watched the sun come up the estuary? It’s beautiful.”
He could see that Gilpatrick didn’t believe him.
“I saw my sister just now,” Gilpatrick said.
Peter felt himself going pale. He fought it.
“Your sister? How is she?”
“Working hard at the hospital, I’m glad to say.”
Was the priest looking at him in a different way? Had he guessed? Peter yawned and shook his head to cover his confusion. What was Gilpatrick saying?
“She and Una were coming in from the hospital. Do you know Una MacGowan? It’s her house you’re living in.”
“Ah, no. No, I don’t.”
Fionnuala must have moved fast. Gratefully, he muttered that he had to go, and made his escape.
But as he sat in his lodgings soon afterwards, Peter had some uncomfortable moments. His affair with Fionnuala had been so unexpected and so exciting that until now he hadn’t thought much about the risks. The encounter with Gilpatrick had suddenly shaken him into a new awareness. The young priest had guessed he had