Defy Not the Heart

  Whether Reina agreed with that or not, she could not deny she seemed somehow prettier than usual. Her costly glass mirror, which gave a much clearer image than polished steel, said so; Theo said so; and who was she to argue with the adage that a husband well pleased with his wife's appearance was a man easier to deal with. It was worth finding out if it was true, for Ranulf Fitz Hugh was no doubt displeased that it was taking her so long to return to him.

  She found him deep in a discussion of crop rotation with Simon and John, a subject he seemed to find fascinating. So much for his displeasure at her long absence. He obviously was no longer worried about letting her out of his sight, and she was of a mind not to make her presence known at all, to retreat back the way she had come. There were other things that needed doing, and she was a fool to attach so much importance to one man's anxieties, be they natural or not.

  But before she could slip away, John noticed her and greeted her, and she put on a smile as the other two men then turned to her. That she could see no reaction to her appearance at all from her husband deflated her even more, though she was too adept at concealing her feelings to show it.

  "Do not let me interrupt your conversation, gen­tlemen. I only stopped to let you know I have not forgotten you. There are a few more things I should see to ere I join you."

  Ranulf opened his mouth to protest her leaving again, but Simon beat him to it. "My lady, please. You know I am a patient man most times, but not when my curiosity has been aroused. Do you tell us what has happened to change your mind about young de Lascelles."

  She looked at Ranulf with wide-eyed innocence. "You did not tell them? Fie on you, sir. Did you think they would doubt you?" After getting in those licks that he could not possibly answer, she felt vindicated in her disappointment that he had not even noticed her improved appearance and turned back to address her vassals with an explanation. "My acquaintance with Sir Ranulf may be of short duration, but suffi­cient to conclude that he is the man best suited to Clydon and myself."

  "He wants to wed you?" John Radford asked with­out much surprise.

  "He has agreed to wed me," Reina clarified. "Ac­tually, it took some convincing to get him to see the benefits to himself. He was reluctant because he comes landless, though he has the means to buy a fine estate does it please him to do so. That he is sworn to no other lord is what makes him ideally suited to Clydon."

  "So this was your idea?"

  Her expression gave truth to the lie. "Aye, mine.

  After considering all aspects, and finding naught that you might object to, I went ahead and offered Sir Ranulf contract, which he approved. Is there any rea­son you might be reluctant to accept him as your liege lord when you know him to be the man I have cho­sen?"

  Put that way, and in that particular tone, if there were any objections, they would not be voiced now. She had quick assurances from both men that Sir Ran­ulf was acceptable to them.

  "Think you my other vassals will feel the same?" she put to Simon.

  "I do not see why not. They are as aware as we of the urgency in getting you wed quickly—to a man your father would have approved of."

  "Good, because I have already sent messengers off to summon them and Sir Henry. The wedding will take place as soon as all are gathered. And yes, Si­mon, my father would have found much to admire and respect in Sir Ranulf. You knew him well, and know he valued honesty, honor, strength, and ability, above all things. Sir Ranulf s strength and ability can­not be in doubt, and I have had firsthand experience of his honesty and honor. My father would have been well pleased."

  That more than anything settled their minds to the matter, and the rest of the evening went by smoothly, especially since she invited Sir Walter to the lord's table again, which seemed to put Ranulf at ease and made for lively conversation. The man really was never at a loss for words.

  But there was a moment after supper when Simon managed to corner her with his one remaining concern. "Are you certain, my lady? You have not let that pretty face of his sway you.in your judgment?"

  She had to laugh at this. "Come now, Simon, you know me better than that. Would I let a man's looks come before what was best for Clydon? I do not de­lude myself that 'tis me Sir Ranulf covets. He suc­cumbed to the same inducements John or Richard would have succumbed to had I put the offer to them instead. Love and infatuation have no place in form­ing alliances, and neither influenced me in choosing Ranulf over anyone else. He is strong, able—"

  "Strong? The man is a giant, my lady, if you have not noticed."

  She chuckled at his expression of awe. "Aye, he is that. You should have seen how quickly he sent de Rochefort's men fleeing for their lives, killing half of them ere they could escape. He will do you well do you need him, Simon. You need have no unease on that score. But more important, he will be available do you need him, not off seeing to other estates that have naught to do with Clydon."

  Simon was well satisfied after that, but then Reina had her last difficulty of the day to face, the sleeping arrangements. Left alone with Ranulf at last, she could no longer avoid it. She had to put him in the lord's chamber, since Simon always had the west tower chamber when he was at Clydon, and he had already gone off to retire there. The lord's chamber was now appropriate for Ranulf. She just would not be sharing it with him yet.

  Of course, that would doubtless relieve him, rather than annoy him. That she suspected it might annoy him was only because of what he had said that morn about wanting her to disrobe for him—that it could wait until tonight. In all likelihood, he would have forgotten that by now. But just in case he had not, she had prepared what she would say. Whether he would accept it or not was what had her worried.

  She forestalled him when he was about to speak, now that they were alone before the hearth. "Do you come with me, my lord."

  A servant waited at the bottom of the stairwell to light the way. Lanzo had earlier been directed where to place Ranulf s armor, which had been removed just after he arrived, save his sword. The lad was waiting in the antechamber, half asleep on a pallet there, though he perked up as they entered.

  "Wait until you see this place, Ranulf!" Lanzo said enthusiastically. " Tis like a treasure room."

  Reina smiled as she led the way into the larger Eoom. Both chambers were well prepared and brightly lit with numerous candlestands.

  "These are some of the treasures my father won i» Cyprus," she explained, indicating the finely woven "Rakish rug that covered a goodly portion of the floor, and two huge tapestries of foreign design. "Had you heard that the king stopped there to successfully con­quer the island?"

  "Nay, what happens far from England has never concerned me overmuch," Ranulf replied absently.

  This time she smiled to herself, for he was frankly overwhelmed by the amenities the chamber supplied. The four-poster bed was large and curtained in rich blue velvet with the de Champeney coat of arms hung above it. In the two thick outer walls there was a personal privy, flushed by a cistern on the roof to keep down the smell; two deep window embrasures, with seats covered in ermine pelts; and an aumbry, which was a cupboard recessed in the wall to store valuables, this one large enough that her parents had used it as a wardrobe for their expensive formal clothes.

  There were numerous clothes chests for everyday wear, as well as a large one with a lock for valuables, this one containing only the precious gold plates, ex­otic oils, and jewel-encrusted chalices from the Holy Land. A like chest was in her own chamber with her family's important documents, silver plate, rich cloth she had got from the merchants of Birkenham, her costly spices, and what few jewels and money re­mained.

  The hooded fireplace was cold, since the tapestries and rugs kept down the drafts in this room. There was a rare chair placed before it, like the two at the lord's table below, a large fur rug, several stools, and a small table, at the moment set with a jug of wine. The large tub had been pulled out from where it was kept screened in the corner and was filled with water. Steam could st
ill be seen rising from it. Thick drying cloths sat on a stool next to it with a fresh cake of imported, sweet-scented soap, also gotten from her Birkenham merchants.

  "Do you—do you wish my assistance with your bath?" Fortunately, she sounded nervous enough about it that he shook his head, giving her the open­ing she needed to leave. "Then I bid you good night, my lord."

  She was gone before he realized that was her in­tention. She thought she would escape that easily, but she was wrong. He stopped her just before her own door, his deep rumble no doubt waking those women already asleep in the women's quarters between them.

  "What means this, lady?"

  She waited until he had reached her at the end of the passageway before replying. "Surely no expla­nation is needed. You sleep there, I sleep here—until we are wed."

  "We are wed," he reminded her with a frown.

  "But no one here knows that, my lord, and you did agree to that. Would you cause a stir that would besmirch my honor when in only a few days we will be wed again?"

  "What happens to your honor when there is no blood on the wedding sheets for all to see?" he threw back at her.

  But Reina was prepared for that question, and with­drew a small vial from her sleeve, filled with red liquid. "This will see to that matter right well. Now again, good night."

  If she could have seen his expression when she closed the door in his face, she would have laughed. But she was too afeard at the moment that he would bang on the door to still insist on his marital rights. He did not, however, and Reina congratulated herself on the victory of this small reprieve, refusing to think of what would happen in just a few more days when she could no longer avoid the rough marriage bed she had made for herself.

  "Come, Ranulf, if you feel like pacing so much, let us get out of here and walk the battlements," Walter suggested.

  "I cannot leave now."

  "Then at least sit down and get your eyes off that door. It will not open the sooner for your watching of it, and someone is like to notice your tension do you not sit down."

  Ranulf sighed and joined Walter at the table, though he could not relax. The Great Hall was more crowded than ever now that Sir Henry had arrived late this afternoon with a retinue of twenty knights and as many squires. The number of ladies had also more than doubled, Simon's and John's wives and daughters sent for, the other vassals' and castellans' women ar­riving with their men, six ladies coming with Sir Henry, including the earl's wife and two-married daughters. The air was as festive as if the wed­ding celebration had already begun, though the wedding was planned for the morrow.

  The lower tables had been cleared away right after supper, and most of the crowd was dancing to the rousing tunes of a group of minstrels set up in the gallery. A few older men were playing chess or ta­bles, despite the noise. There were dice games going on at the other end of the hall amidst the squires. And servants weaved in and out of the crowd, keeping ale and wine cups replenished.

  Ranulf was finally not under such close scrutiny as he had been throughout the meal, though there were still ladies who could not keep their eyes from him. Walter was right. He was showing himself to be as nervous as any groom, making a first-class fool of himself, and all because Reina had closeted herself in one of the wall chambers off the hall with Sir Henry.

  "You know," Walter said, breaking into his thoughts, "I could have sworn you were the man who had to have his arm twisted to accept this glorious prize, yet here you are making it a matter of life and death if you do not get it."

  "How would you like a little arms practice?"

  Walter chuckled. "Feel like running me through, do you? Instead, tell me what turned you about in favor of Clydon."

  "You know very well 'twas taking a lady to wife that I objected to. Never Clydon."

  "Aye, I know it. And she still comes with the prize. So what changed your mind about her?"

  "Naught has changed my mind. She is still not to be trusted farther than I can spit, but as you said, she comes with the prize."

  "She has kept to her end of the bargain so far."

  "Walter, you are being a pest!"

  Walter blithely ignored the warning. "Well, has she not? She has presented you so favorably that every one of her men is now eager to swear fealty to you. Not only that, they like you." That got a dark look that Walter could not resist laughing over. "And even now she is working toward overcoming the last pos­sible obstacle."

  "Is she?"

  "Is that what has you worried? How can you think she would undo everything she has done at the last moment? "Tis not reasonable to think so."

  "But women think differently than men do, and now is the perfect time to drop the sword, when 'tis no longer expected. Know you where she sleeps? Not with me. She does not consider herself well and truly wed yet."

  Walter's mouth dropped open, and then he burst into guffaws of laughter. "Incredible. I should have realized your restlessness had more meaning to it. God's wounds, Ranulf, if you need a woman, why have you not taken one? Tis not as if there are not dozens here who would gladly have your notice."

  Ranulf did not answer, refusing to mention that he was so irritated with his wife's attitude that he had looked the wenches over, and every time he thought to approach one or even indicate more subtly his wishes that she come to him later in his chamber, he found that infernal catamite Theodric watching him, almost as if the boy could read his mind. 'Twas frus­trating beyond belief, but he was not about to risk displeasing his wife before she became his wife in the eyes of her people. He had little doubt her "maid" was deliberating thwarting him. And the more he was denied a woman, the more he wanted one.

  But she would denounce him for a lecher, that he could not abstain for a mere few days. He was not going to give her that pleasure. Ladies loved to mor­alize, even those who were hypocrites and played as much as their husbands. Cursed lot of them.

  "You do not desire a long life, do you, Walter?"

  "All right, all right, I will plague you no more.

  But at least I took your mind off what is happening in that room. I do have my uses, you know."

  "But he has no property, Lady Reina, not even a form. How could your father have picked him over all the landed lords available to choose from?"

  Reina had not worried about this meeting. Henry was a smallish man, no taller than she, clerkish in stature, yet in Lord Guy's absence, he held the power of Shefford in his hands. But he was not a man who gloried in that power, delighting in the fear it could invoke. He was sensible, intelligent, and a reasonable explanation was all that was necessary to make him see her point of view.

  "A man with no other duties or concerns of im­portance will make Clydon his main concern," she told him. "My father was not as interested in enlarg­ing Clydon as in protecting it, and keeping it as intact as when the earl gave it him. Sir Ranulf will have no other overlord to conflict with his homage to the earl, as would most any other lord. How can you object to that, when 'tis in the earl's best interests to have a man sworn only to him, just as my father was?"

  "I had not considered that, but you are right, of course."

  Reina grinned at him. "Besides, Sir Henry, he is rich. He has been a mercenary for long, and you know how much they have been in demand recently, with so many nobles gone off to Crusade." She handed over the copy of the marriage contract that he would take to Shefford Castle, waiting until his eyes widened when he came to the part indicating Ranulf s portion before adding, "He could have bought land long ago, but has been too busy earning more money to get around to it. He still can, if we feel there is a need. Think you it is still important?"

  "Nay, not at all. You should have told me sooner that he comes to you so prosperous."

  She shrugged. " Tis his capabilities that matter to us."

  "True, true," he agreed absently while glancing over the rest of the contract. And then: "He gives back everything? How did your father manage to get him to agree to that? Most men fight like mad to give n
othing, yet he gives back everything of yours, and gives everything he possesses as well!"

  "You know my father was more generous than that," she replied. "Those were Ranulf's terms, be­cause he has family he does not wish to acknowledge or see benefit by his marriage to me. It was to our benefit to find no fault with this idiosyncrasy of his."

  "Certainly not," Sir Henry agreed. "I have never seen a more advantageous contract for a bride. Lord Guy will be most pleased."

  The bottom of Ranulfs stomach dropped out, or so it felt, when he saw the smug little smile Reina wore as she emerged from the wall chamber with Sir Henry.

  "Shefford will accept your fealty and gladly, my lord," she told him, the smug smile turning into a wide one.

  He did not believe her. He could not. She would not be happy that she was stuck with him. How could she be? The denouement would come, sometime be­tween now and the ceremony on the morrow, or may­hap during the ceremony, but it would come.

  Ranulf went to bed that night so morose he was certain 'twas the last time he would sleep in the lord's chamber. Clydon his? It had been a nice fantasy for a short while.

  First thing in the morn, he had Lanzo sharpen his sword. If he had to fight his way out after the de­nouement, so be it. He also had the lad warn the others to be prepared. Walter was going to laugh his head off, but better that than have it hacked off. He was not suffering "before-wedding" nervousness. After all, today was no more than a formality. He was already wed—though his wife would like that changed.

  'Twas cruel beyond words what she had done. The honest approach would have been to disclaim him as soon as they were met by her men in force. But nay, she had to wait until Shefford's man came with even more men, to let Ranulf be deluded into thinking Cly­don really could be his, that she truly wanted him for her lord. The only honest indication of her feelings had been when she refused to share his bed. That should have given him warning instead of merely ir­ritating the hell out of him.

  The arrival of his wedding finery was noted with little enthusiasm on his part, though Lanzo fairly swooned in awe. The royal purple mantle of velvet, trimmed in white ermine, was finer than anything he had ever owned, but then he had never been one to waste money on rich clothing when he had no one to impress and better needs for that money. The long-sleeved tunic was shot through with so much silver thread, from a distance it appeared a glittering silver cloth rather than the fine white sendal silk it was. Even the chausses were of the best quality, and a belt had been included with a silver buckle to match the brooch for his mantle, both decorated with small pur­ple gems and looking newly made.