Defy Not the Heart

  "I counted on the castellan being the imbecile you claimed him to be, and so he was."

  "But why take that chance?"

  "I did not care to be cast as the fool if the plan went awry."

  She had to force back a smile at that bit of vanity. "Oh, very wise, my lord."

  He frowned, sensing her humor anyway. "Wise or not, lady, it still worked. And because I did send only a message, Warhurst is unaware that I was even in­volved, or that I now have the outlaws."

  "Yet I heard you say you meant to turn them over to Warhurst. You have changed your mind about that, too?"

  "For the while."

  "Do you tell me you mean to hang them your­self?"

  "You need not sound so appalled, lady. Do they deserve to hang, they will hang. But I am inclined to believe a lesser punishment is called for, or even none at all, if what they said about Warhurst is true. Tis that truth I mean to get at on the morrow."

  "But you cannot believe aught from an outlaw," she protested.

  "So I thought, yet what their leader had to say about Keigh Manor proved true enough."

  "And what have they said about Warhurst?"

  "Only that your esteemed Lord Richard has been there these past weeks, that he left Warhurst with a large force the same morn I found a large force at­tacking Clydon, and that he returned to his town that same mom, wounded. The man had a lot more to say, but . . . You laugh? I fail to see aught humorous in what I said."

  She tried to control it, but another peal of laughter rang out. It was his steadily increasing glower that finally sobered her, though not completely.

  "Tell me you did not give credit to that ridiculous tale."

  "And why is it ridiculous?"

  "For what possible reason would Richard attack me?"

  "For the same reason you thought Falkes de Rochefort attacked you."

  "To marry me?" She grinned. "You forget I was willing to marry Richard."

  "Nay, I do not forget. But tell me, Reina, did he know it?"

  That sobered her completely, and that he was ob­viously pleased to have made that point annoyed her as well. "Whether he did or not, you will never con­vince me that Richard would do me harm. You do not know him, Ranulf. He is the most affable, sweet-natured—"

  "Is he?" He cut her off with a sneer. "You are so certain of that? What if he is a completely different man inside the walls of his little kingdom? Have you ever seen him inside Warhurst, to know how he be­haves there, or how his people behave toward him?" He went on to tell her the rest of what the outlaw had to say of her Lord Richard, ending, "What if even a little of that is true?"

  "Because an outlaw says so?" she scoffed. "Of course he would tell you true about Keigh Manor when you were after his neck and he knew it. And since that worked out so well for him, he spun an­other tale of injustice done him to work on his next hope, full freedom, which you have already admitted you are considering. Oh, he is a clever one. But you will not convince me that Richard is aught but good. And I know why you want to believe this nonsense." She did not even give him a chance to challenge that statement, but went on heatedly. "For the same rea­son you delighted in belittling Lord John. You want me to be ever grateful that I got you instead of one of them. But I am grateful for that, so you do not need-"

  He put a sudden stop to this tirade by rolling over and landing half on top of her. A finger across her lips kept her from even gasping, while he grinned unabashedly.

  "You have worked yourself into a huff for naught, lady. I did not say I believed any of that, only that I meant to get at the truth. Do you say your Richard is a saint, I will consider it so until I see proof to the contrary. But let us now examine this gratitude you have just confessed to having. Does it carry with it certain benefits?"

  When Reina saw the direction his thoughts had taken, as well as his eyes, she could not get any words past her throat. Her breasts tightened under his gaze, and she flushed hot. When his eyes came back to hers, she could only stare, drowning in the look she now recognized.

  She waited breathlessly for his mouth to begin its magic, and so was surprised when his hand covered her breast instead, his eyes still locked to hers. His fingers were warm, and gentle, and infinitely excit­ing, teasing her nipples to hardness, giving her the tiniest alarm when his grip began to strengthen, in­tensifying the thrill when it relaxed.

  Still he watched her, and listened to her gasping breaths, and finally whispered, "Am I hurting you?"

  "Nay."

  "You would tell me?"

  "Jesii, are you going to start that again?"

  She heard his laugh just before his tongue came to lick at her lips, and during the course of the next hour, Reina managed to demonstrate those benefits he had asked about with a good deal of mutual plea­sure.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Reina saw the giant crossing the hall toward her with her steward, but she doubted her eyes, knowing very well that Ranulf was still abed, his few hours' restor­ative sleep having turned into the rest of the night and the entire morning besides. She had just come from the kitchen to delay the midday meal because of that, and Theo, who had not left the hall until her return, had shaken his head when asked if she had missed Ranulf.

  So if not her husband striding toward her, then there were two as huge, when she would have sworn there could not possibly be another as tall and broad and fearsome. And as happened when she first met her husband, she saw only this man's size. She did not notice his face until he had almost reached her, and then that golden mane of hair when he shoved back his coif. Gilbert must have introduced them ere he slipped away, but Reina was too bemused to hear a word of it.

  Golden hair and skin, deep violet eyes, a face the same—Ranulfs, but not Ranulf. "Iwas too incredible by half. Was this his brother, then? Nay, he had said the brother was younger. This man was older, though not by much. Surely he could not be old enough to be the father, and yet he must be. But no loving father this, and recalling that, she also recalled her outraged reaction when Ranulf had told her about this man.

  " Tis all right, Lady Reina. I ofttimes have this affect on women."

  A line he must say by rote, meant to ease a lady's embarrassment for being rendered deaf, blind, and dumb by his extraordinary looks. But he had the wrong reason this time, and Reina could be excused for her shock. "Iwas not every day you met an older, identical version of the man you had wed.

  "Are you here to see Ranulf?"

  "Ranulf?" "Iwas his turn to appear bemused, but then he smiled, understanding. "So that is why you stared. The resemblance. 'Tis uncanny, is it not?"

  "Very," she replied, still not quite believing two men of different years could look so much alike.

  "But I was unaware Ranulf was even in this area. Last I heard, he was fighting for one of the marcher lords. Of course, that was last year, and he does not like to stay in one place very long."

  How would he know that? According to Ranulf, he had spoken with this man only twice in his entire life. Did the man like to pretend a familiarity and fatherly concern just because anyone who saw him and knew Ranulf could not mistake they were father and son?

  "That may have been his habit, but he is not like to leave Clydon anytime soon," Reina said stiffly.

  The man seemed confused by her manner, yet more curious about her words. "Clydon and its many hold­ings are well known to me, Lady Reina, yet I had not heard you were having the sort of trouble that would require my son's particular skills. However, I can as­sure you mat you have hired the best."

  Was that true pride she detected in his voice? By what right did he take pride in a son he had all but forsaken?

  "We are naturally grateful for Ranulfs exceptional abilities, my lord, but I fear you are under a miscon­ception. I did not hire Ranulf, I married him. He is the new Lord of Clydon."

  Reina did not feel quite so foolish for her own ear­lier shock, now that she witnessed his. He stared at her incredulously for long moments, but then he threw
back his head and laughed.

  "You doubt me?" she bristled.

  "Iwas another moment ere he found breath to an­swer. "Nay, I do not doubt you at all, my lady. I always knew Ranulf would do well for himself, but I never suspected he would surpass even myself. If he is here, I would indeed like to see him."

  "But that is not why you came. Why are you here, my lord?"

  "My baggage wain dropped a wheel just down the road. I thought to borrow your smith to expedite the repair, and to pay my respects to you while 'twas being worked on. Now mayhap you will tell me why you are being so defensive."

  "Defensive? I thought I was being quite rude, but if you wish to call it by another name ..."

  She got another burst of laughter instead of the ex­pected rancor such discourtesy would ordinarily cause/ Verily, 'twas not easy to insult father or son. Now she felt embarrassed for having tried. The man was a guest under her roof after all, albeit uninvited. He did not deserve her antagonism for past deeds that had naught to do with her. And what if Ranulf would be glad to see him? There would be hell to pay did she chase him away ere Ranulf had the opportunity to decide one way or the other. All in all, she had behaved abominably toward a man she did not even know. What was his name? Jesti, to ask now would be akin to another insult.

  "I must beg your pardon—"

  "Nay, do not," he interrupted, still smiling. "I like your spirit, lady. Tis a trait needful in dealing with my son, as disagreeable and intimidating as he can be. A woman with less mettle would likely be overwhelmed by him."

  Again Reina wondered how he could know that when he had himself had so few dealings with Ranulf. But she would not ask. Nay, just now the best thing she could do would be to exit right quickly, ere she proved more ungracious than she had thus far. But the man's remark deserved a comment first.

  "Ranulf is not as fearsome as he appears, once you become accustomed to his roar. But you must know that for yourself—" She stopped, appalled that she was doing it again, but hopefully he had not detected that last bit of sarcasm. "Do you make yourself com­fortable, my lord." She indicated a bench by the hearth, away from the bustle of servants still setting up the tables. "We will have dinner soon, as you can see, and you are welcome to join." She hoped that was the truth, but could not really predict how Ranulf would receive him. "Do you excuse me now while I locate my husband for you."

  She gave him no chance to reply one way or the other but hurried off, stopping only long enough to send a servant to fetch wine for him. She felt flus­tered, and anxious, and contrarily, still annoyed by the man's behavior. The way he acted, you would think Ranulf a beloved son, when the truth was he was a son barely acknowledged. Or did the man think to share in and make use of Ranulfs good fortune?

  Aye, that would explain his delight that Ranulf was Lord of Clydon—but not the pride in Ranulf as a man that she had detected ere he learned he was not merely a mercenary she had hired.

  In truth, she knew not what to think. She had to acknowledge that Ranulf might not have told her all the facts. Yet she had not mistaken his bitterness when he told her what he did. That was real and what had stirred her own dislike of this uncaring father. If Ran­ulf bore no love for the man, there had to be good reason, whether she knew all the facts or not.

  Recalling that bitterness, Reina became even more anxious. In her shame over her own behavior, she had made the man welcome. She should not have done that. If Ranulf refused to receive him, worse, de­manded he leave, she would be even more shamed, regardless that she had herself tried to insult him into leaving. Once hospitality was extended, it was tanta­mount to an offering of peace. 'Twas not rescinded except by deeds done after the fact which might de­stroy that peace.

  But all of these thoughts went right out of Reina's mind when she found Ranulf still abed, though quite awake and watching her rush toward him. She im­mediately checked for pallor or brightness in his com­plexion, indications of sickness. There were none, yet he had to be ill and seriously so, to keep him abed this long when he was not sleeping as she had as­sumed, especially since he had spoken of sending one of his men to Warhurst to question the townspeople, also of further interrogating the prisoners. She be­rated herself now for not checking on him sooner.

  "You should have sent for me." The terseness of her tone was at odds with the gentle touch of her hand on his brow, then his neck. "You are not hot," she added with a worried frown. "What ailment do you feel?"

  Ranulf stared at her blankly for a moment, then replied, " Tis lower."

  Her eyes moved down him, settling on his stomach, bare above the bed sheet gathered loosely around his hips. Her hand followed, but only to hover over the area. She saw his muscles tighten in anticipation of her touch, a sure indication he was in pain. Dread washed over her, for this was more serious than she thought.

  Her throat was suddenly dry with fear for him, making her squeak, "Here?"

  His own voice was not steady when he rasped, "Lower."

  Her eyes shot lower, then as quickly filled with suspicion and came slowly back to meet his. "There, eh? And what could possibly ail you there?"

  "A most painful swelling—"

  "Ohh!"

  "What?" He grinned at her outrage.

  "Curse and rot you, Ranulf, I thought you were grievously ill! Do you ever scare me like that again—" The urge to hit him was too strong, and as he contin­ued to grin at her, she gave into it.

  "Ow!"

  "Serves you right," she grouched. "Now I have something to treat."

  He rubbed his shoulder as if she had actually hurt him, complaining, "You had something to treat, lady."

  "Aye, your sense of humor could use a good purge.

  Now do you tell me the real reason you are still abed. Did you only just wake?"

  He shook his head at her. "I have been practicing patience, little general. I have been lying here waiting for you to come and chastise me for laziness."

  "Will you be serious!"

  "But I am. Would you rather I came below, just to drag you back up here? Think you your ladies would not have raised a collective brow at that?"

  Her own sable brows came together. "You would not be so—so—" He would, and his arch look was proof of that if past experience was not. And 'twas too late to pretend she did not know what that collec­tive brow raising would have been about.

  "Should I thank you?"

  "It never fails." He chuckled. "If you are not snapping my head off, you resort to sarcasm. But in this case mayhap you should thank me, little general. I will not always be so considerate. There will be times I am rushed and—"

  "And any dark corner will do?"

  That sneer got her pulled down onto the bed. "Aye, anywhere, though I do prefer this soft bed."

  "Better than the woods?"

  "Much."

  She refrained from grinning, but she could not stay angry with him when he was like this. She would never have imagined there was a playful man inside the churlish giant, but she was coming to appreciate that there was. She was also like to become addicted to the amorous side of him, but that was her problem. While it lasted, she meant to take advantage of it— but not just now.

  Before the nibbling he was doing at her neck made her forget again, she blurted out, "Ranulf, this must wait."

  "Not unless the keep is burning down, lady." He did not stop nuzzling her, and now that he was no longer afeard to caress her, his hands were quite busy, too. "Ranulf, I came to tell you . . . there is someone below you should . . . ought to ... Ran­ulf!" She gasped as he latched onto her earlobe. "It can wait," she decided, then in the next breath, with a sigh, "Nay, it cannot. Ranulf, 'tis your father."

  He became very still, but after a moment, slowly leaned back to look down at her. "My what?" "Your father is below and has asked to see you." Surprise was there, and for a fleeting second some­thing akin to gladness, though Reina could not be certain. But whatever these first reactions were, they were quickly masked by a much darker emotion,
one she had seen that day he told her about his father.

  He got up from the bed, she thought to dress. Not so. He began to pace, or more like prowl as a restless animal would. The bedrobe she had made for such times lay ignored atop his coffer. She did not care much at the moment. So he was a man of little mod­esty, and the robe was apt to never get any use. He was magnificent to watch. Such raw masculinity brought a response to her body that was wholly prim­itive, making her wish she had kept her mouth shut. But 'twas too late for that, and although she hated to interrupt his prowling, she still had to ask, "Will you see him?"

  "How the devil did he find out so soon?" Reina had the feeling he was not speaking to her at all, that he had not heard her question. Still, she answered, "If you mean about our wedding, he did not know, leastwise not until I made mention of it."

  That got his attention right quickly. "You told— then why is he here?"

  " Tis no great mystery, Ranulf. His baggage wain broke down in passing. Otherwise, he would not even have stopped at Clydon. Gilbert brought him to me and-"

  "And you guessed who he was," he finished in disgust.

  "Guessed? Jesii, there was no guessing to it. You did not tell me he was so young, or that you are a near exact copy of him."

  "Think you I am pleased by such close resem­blance? You cannot imagine how many times I have been mistaken for him by acquaintances who have not seen him for long. There were even a few who re­fused to believe I was not him. Know you what it is like to be taken for a man you ..."

  He would not complete the thought, so she did it for him. "Despise? Do you really?"

  That got her a scowl instead of an answer. "What does he want, lady?"

  "To congratulate you, mayhap?" The scowl dark­ened. /'Well, how should I know?" she added testily. "Why not go down and ask him?"

  "Bite your tongue, woman!"

  She blinked; then her lips curled the tiniest bit. She had heard him speak just so to Walter, and knew it to be more an endearment than an expression of an­ger. She might be the recipient of his roars, but not of his temper, leastwise not yet.