Page 19 of Defy Not the Heart

  Ranulf slept on. She did not like it that he had left the bed curtains open. The slightest noise could wake him. But from what she had seen thus far, he was a sound sleeper.

  It had been a relief to be called back to the village, though the reason had given her many hours of worry. The baker's sister had taken a fall and had begun to miscarry. But working half the night, and using every remedy she could think of, Reina had gotten the dan­ger down to a mere possibility of losing the baby, which the woman was prone to anyway. If she stayed off her feet for a time, until the baby was well set, she still might carry this one to term.

  The relief had come from having an excuse to avoid her marriage bed that night, at least until Ranulf was asleep. She still could not believe she had actually told him what she had in their last conversation. After thinking about it, she had been horrified to realize how it must have sounded to him, and only surprised that he had not laughed in her face. He must now think she lusted after him, or at least that she lusted after the pleasure he could give her, which was even worse. Men never doubted their own prowess, so what else was he to think? Certainly not that she found fault with his jump-on, jump-off technique. Oh, curse and rot her loose mouth.

  She yanked open the aumbry, then winced at the creak of the hinge. A stirring of the sheets behind her made her quickly tug off her bliaut without bothering with the laces, carelessly tossing it and her mantle into the wardrobe. She considered making a pallet for the rest of the night. She considered curling up right there on the floor where she was. She did not want Ranulf waking, not for any reason, but what excuse could she give come morn if he found her sleeping on the floor?

  Her chemise was a tighter fit requiring unlacing. She began to work on the ties in the dim light, but froze after a moment with the sound of Ranulf s voice.

  "Come here, Reina."

  Her heart where her larynx should be made words terribly difficult. "In—in a moment—"

  "Come now."

  The order given in that particular tone carried her feet forward. She could only hope he was not com­pletely awake, that he only wanted assurance that she had returned safely, and then he would go back to sleep.

  She stopped a few feet from the bed. "Aye?"

  She did not even see his hand move. One moment she was being dragged across him, ending up lying flat on her back beside him, and the next, she heard her chemise ripping.

  "What—what are you doing?" she got out, too late. Her shift tore down the middle, too.

  "What you requested," he answered in the most reasonable tone. "You said we should both be naked. I am already in that state. You were taking too long to get there."

  "And that gives you leave to just—"

  Her furious question was cut short. She was sur­prised she had been able to say that much. He had not called her to him for conversation. His mouth moved over hers with a fierce possessiveness, and then so too did his body.

  And yet this time was different. His thrusts were not so quick and pounding. There was a languor to his movements, a heady undulation that set off a maelstrom of delicious sensations deep inside Reina. And his lips did not concentrate only on hers, but moved over her face, finally to one ear, and that in­tensely pleasant feeling sent such a jolt through her, she bucked under him, driving him deeper into her core—which effectively ended his thrusts.

  Her eyes flew open as she heard his roar, and she wanted to scream, Not yet, but he was done, and looking down at her now with primal satisfaction in his gaze. That alone gave her the urge to kill him. He had brought her closer than ever this time to what made him roar, only to leave her with that aching frustration gnawing at her gut again, her nerve ends raw, her mind sizzling with impotent fury.

  He rolled to his side with a sigh. "I did it again, did I not?"

  "Aye, you lummox," she bit out between clenched teeth. "That you did."

  "I am afraid I was not quite awake. Do you say so, we can try again."

  She threw off the hand he moved to her shoulder.

  "Do not touch me! I am so furious, all I want to do is hit you!"

  "Then hit me."

  "Do not tempt me, Ranulf."

  "Nay, I mean it. If you will not let me try again, then what better way to ease your anger. Go ahead, little general. You cannot hurt me."

  She certainly tried. She pounded on his chest and belly until her fists were sore and there was no strength left in her arms to push him away when he pulled her down to lie close to his body.

  "Do you feel better now?"

  "Nay," she murmured stubbornly.

  He chuckled. "Was it the torn chemise?"

  "Ohh!"

  He laughed outright. "You are so easy to rile, wife. And now that you have worn yourself out, 'twould also be easy for me to—"

  "Do not!"

  She could feel his shoulder shrug under her head. "A man is not like to argue when he is already sated, though you cannot expect the same when he is not."

  "That is so reassuring."

  "You dare much with my hand so near your back­side, lady." A yawn ruined the effect of that threat.

  Reina snorted. "That might be more gratifying than what you—"

  "Finish that thought, and you will regret it." This threat was much more effective, particularly accom­panied by his hand moving to the curve of her but­tocks. "You struck the bargain, and I have upheld my end of it. If you have changed your mind and would prefer that I lust after someone else, do you say so now."

  He held his breath, waiting for her answer. He had not meant to give her an out like that, and did not know what he would do if she took it. But she said naught, and he did not press his luck by saying any more.

  Reina held her breath, too, and for the same rea­son, hoping he would not press her for an answer her pride would dictate.

  Only after he was asleep did she realize that no answer was all the answer he needed.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The day was humid after the morning rain, but that did not stop children from running through the village in play. Women brought their chores outside of their houses, converging under shaded oaks to gossip as they worked. Few men were about at this time of day when there were fields to tend or ditches to dig, either their own or the lords'. Those present were busy at some labor, repairing plows or other tools, one lead­ing a pair of oxen back to the fields, several men hauling new thatch up to a roof, one gangly fellow chasing a goat through the parish yard. Even the old and lame remained useful, watching the younger chil­dren, feeding and collecting eggs from the chickens that scratched in each yard, or working in the small vegetable patches behind each house.

  It was the first Ranulf had been there since the wedding, and all labor came to a temporary halt when he was noticed walking down the center street, Lady Ella perched on his shoulder. Only one daring soul called out a greeting. Most were leery of the new lord, wondering what he was doing there when 'twas the bailiff they always dealt with. From longtime ex­perience, it never boded well when a lord showed up. But when he singled no one out for questioning or punishment, they ignored him, or seemed to.

  Ranulf was not really sure what he was doing there himself. He had had a vague notion and had acted on it without really thinking it out. One thing he had not considered was the impression it would give when he entered Red Alma's hut.

  The place was easy to find from the directions he had from one of his men who had already been there. Two geese were making a honking racket mating in the front yard, ironically appropriate for this resi­dence. The door was open in invitation. A skinny razor-backed hog ran squealing out of it with a wooden bowl sailing after it just before Ranulf ducked down to enter.

  "If you come on business, shut the door—if not, we will need the light."

  It took him a moment to locate the voice, for the door was the only source of light, and the house was bigger than it looked from outside. Red Alma was changing the linen on a sturdy-looking bed up against the wall on one side of the r
oom. On the other side was tied a cow, placidly chewing on the rushes cov­ering the beaten earth floor. Little luxuries abounded, the fine linen and curtains on the bed, pottery ware hanging on the walls with brass pots, sweet beeswax candles instead of pungent tallow, the aroma of ven­ison stewing in a pot over the open hearth in the mid­dle of the room, venison he recalled being served last eventide in the hall and obviously finding its way here in payment of services rendered.

  Ranulf did not shut the door. Red Alma had heard him enter but had not seen who he was yet. It took another moment ere curiosity turned her about to face him. Even then, with the light behind him, she did net recognize him at first. 'Twas his height that did it, making her pale in horror.

  "God save me, not you!" she gasped, then paled even more. "Oh—I mean—please, my lord. The lady has been good to me. She rarely scolds, she brings me special salves, she—"

  "Why do you mention her?"

  "She—she will hate me does she learn you have come to me."

  "Why?" When she just stared at him, Ranulf grunted. "Nay, I did not come for that, and she would have no reason to think it."

  This frightened the woman even more. She stum­bled to the trestle table and collapsed on the bench there. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table.

  "You mean to put me out?"

  "What?" He frowned, and then, "Do not be silly, woman. Your services are as useful as any other vil­lein's. 'Tis advice I want from you."

  "Advice?" she repeated dumbly.

  "Aye." He came forward, removing his gauntlets to tuck into his belt. Lady Ella jumped to the table when he reached it. "More particularly, your knowl­edge of women."

  The smile came slowly, but was brilliant when completed. "Of course! Anything, my lord, any­thing! Whatever I can tell you, you have only to ask."

  "How can I pleasure my wife without hurting her?"

  He sat down on the bench next to her. Lady Ella came instantly to be petted. He did not notice Red Alma's eyes round on him in astonishment.

  "You hurt her?"

  "Not yet—at least I do not think so. But if I touch her as I want, I fear I will. I seem to have lost what control I ever had of my passion since I met her."

  ' 'Why do you think you would hurt her?''

  He held up his hands, frowning at them. "How can I not with these? They are used to large, strapping wenches who do not flinch from a too rough caress. How can they not hurt a woman as tiny and delicate as my lady is?"

  Those hands slammed down on the table with that question. The cat was startled, jumping back to his shoulder. He pulled her down to his chest to calm her. Red Alma stared at his hands stroking the cat.

  "The cat belongs to you, my lord?" she asked thoughtfully.

  "Aye."

  "I can see you are fond of it. I had one myself once that I had strong feelings for. I loved that cat so much, sometimes I wanted to just squeeze it, to show it how much I cared for it. Do you sometimes feel that way?"

  He smiled, scratching the cat behind its pointy ears. "Aye, often."

  ' 'But you do not give in to the urge?''

  "Of course not. 'Twould kill it."

  "Or badly hurt it."

  He frowned again. "What has this to do with what I asked you?"

  "If you can be gentle with a cat, because you know that to be otherwise will hurt it, do you not think 'twould be the same with your wife?''

  "You compare my wife to a cat?"

  "Nay, not at all," she rushed to assure him. "I do merely point out that those hands you fear will hurt the lady do not hurt the cat, a much smaller crea­ture."

  "I am not beset with lust for my cat," he grum­bled.

  She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. "Of course you are not. What I am trying to suggest is, 'twas not in your mind that you could hurt those other women you are used to, any more than 'twould be in your mind that you could hurt a dog or a horse with a too sharp pat of affection. But you know you could hurt your cat. The thought is there, even when you are not thinking about it. Tis the same with the lady. You know she is different from those others, that you must be more careful of your strength when you touch her. Even should you lose control in your passion, that thought will be there to temper your strength and protect the lady."

  "How can it be? I tell you, I have never known such overwhelming lust as has plagued me since meeting her. It does not even matter where we are. Once it takes me, there is no stopping it, nor holding it back. There are no thoughts of any kind, only this driving need to possess her."

  "I see," Red Alma said.

  She wondered if he had considered that he might be in love with his wife. She doubted it, and she was not fool enough to suggest it. But if he would not believe 'twas possible to restrain himself in the throes of passion, then how could she help him, or, more to the point, help the lady?

  "This puts a different face on the matter," she con­tinued, eyeing his hands again. "The lady might be small and delicate, however, she is still a woman, and we women have more strength and endurance than you men give us credit for. Mayhap your touch would not hurt her at all."

  "I do not care to cause her pain to find out."

  "Then show me. I think I can fairly judge what a woman can withstand."

  At his doubtful look, she smiled to encourage him, though looking at the size of his hands, she wished she had kept her mouth shut. 'Twas a risk, too, that he might not stop once he started. But how else could she ease his concern? That he had this concern was a wonder, and for the lady never to know the pleasure of his caress would be a shame.

  "I do not mean to entice you, my lord. Never that. 'Tis no more than a test, and only to determine the strength of your touch—no more than that."

  "I understand that," he grunted. "But you are in nowise my lady's small size."

  She had to grin. "A breast is a breast. Big or small, it feels the same pain or pleasure. Touch mine as is your custom, and I can—" He did before she fin­ished, and she could not help flinching. "I see what you mean, my lord. You do have a strong grip," she was forced to admit, then dared to add what she had told many a knight. "But a breast is not a sword hilt. It will not fall from your hand do you hold it light ... oh, God, your lady!"

  "What?"

  He turned to see his wife framed in the open door­way, her basket of medicinal potions in her hand. But no sooner did he see her than she was gone.

  "You must go after her and explain!" Red Alma cried.

  "What for? Do I go after her, I am like to tumble her in the woods again, and she does not like that very much."

  Red Alma stared at him aghast, distracted for a moment by that piece of news. "But she will think-"

  "Do not be silly, woman," he cut her off. "I told you she would have no reason to think that. She does not deny me even if she does not like it, so what need have I of other women?"

  Alma did not tell him that most men would go to another woman for better sport if their wives so dis­liked coupling with them. But then, too, those partic­ular wives sent their husbands off with their blessings. And his total lack of concern did ease her fears. May­hap the Lady Reina would be grateful to her. And if she was not, Alma could see to it that she was— indirectly.

  "My lord, I fear I have gone about this in the wrong way. You asked how you might pleasure your lady without hurting her, and there is a way, something I have overlooked. Mayhap if you begin slowly. Do not touch her with your hands at first. Use your lips and tongue instead."

  " "Iwould not be the same."

  "Why not? You can touch her with your mouth anywhere you would touch her with your hands."

  "Anywhere?"

  "Aye."

  "Anywhere?"

  Red Alma chuckled, gleaning his thoughts. "Aye, there too. I know most men do not think of that, but those few that do find their own pleasure in it. Of course she is like to protest, thinking it strange. But do you insist, she will not only like it, she can be brought to her full pleasure th
at way.''

  "How is that possible?"

  Red Alma blushed, for the first time in many a long year. "You will have to trust me, my lord, that it can happen. And in this way, there is no hurry in learning what caresses will please her and how gentle you needs be. There will be time and plenty for that as you come to know her better.''

  He did not question her further, leaving a silver coin on the table that was more money than she had ever seen, with the promise it would be doubled had she spoken true. Whether she had spoken true de­pended on the lady. Some women would object vio­lently to what she had suggested, and a man was not likely to insist very long in that case. But the new lord did not seem a man to give up easily. Far from it. He was determined to see his lady pleasured whether she liked it or not. What Alma would not give to be a flea in their bed tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  ccBut why now, my lady?"

  "Because now is the perfect time, Aylmer." While the bastard is steeped in guilt from his infidelity, Reina added to herself. "He will say aye to anything I ask today."

  "I was afraid of that," the boy mumbled.

  Reina frowned at him. "I thought you wanted the care of Lady Ella?"

  "I do. But I did not think I would have to meet the lord to have it."

  "You are not to worry. Wait in the window embra­sure until I call you." And then she tousled his hair and gave him a smile to reassure him. "Go on, Ayl­mer. You will have naught to fear of him."

  Her smile crumbled the moment he turned away from her. How her mother had ever managed to do this she did not know. But 'twas one of the things the lady had taught her, that in a world where women had so little governance of their own lives, where they needed a man's yea-say for aught that they did or wanted, they had to take advantage of any occurrence that would help them get that yea-say if they were in doubt of getting it.

  Guilt was a prime emotion to play on, her mother had once told her. Not that she had ever suspected her husband of infidelity; She had taken advantage, when alive, of broken promises, neglect, little things like that. She had not had a husband who rutted at the drop of a coin as her daughter now did.