Page 5 of Defy Not the Heart

  Chapter Seven

  .Reina rarely used the bathing stool that would be placed in the center of the large, cloth-lined tub for her to sit on, and this time was no different. But today her need was to sink down into the hot water to help ease her sore muscles, and as she was so small, she did not need that much water. Oil of myrrh had been added to her bath, and its delicate, exotic sweetness soothed and relaxed her; it had been her favorite scent ever since she discovered it in the cartload of trea­sures her father sent home.

  The opening of the door had her sitting up in the tub, since Wenda had already brought in the last of the hot water heated over the hearth in the lord's chamber, but she sank back down again when she saw it was only Theodric. She heard him dismiss Wenda and wondered why he was back so soon, but she waited for him to volunteer the information. She had a foreboding that she would not like it, and so was in no hurry to hear it.

  She had already spoken to her steward and was sure everything would be nearly back to normal be­low, but she knew she should not be tarrying in her chamber, not with guests in the keep. Yet her cham­ber was the one place, the only place, where she could be assured of privacy without demands being made of her, which was what she needed at the moment. No one but Theo or Wenda would ever enter here without her permission, and when she was here, which was not often, everyone knew she did not like to be disturbed.

  These rules had come about because of Theo. Her ladies knew that he served her, but not in what ca­pacity. They knew that women held no attraction for him—how could they not know when he was so ob­vious about his preferences? Still, they were most of them too young to understand if they should walk in, like now, and find him in the chamber whilst she was in her bath.

  His twin sister, Ethelinda, had been her chamber­maid since Reina was twelve. That the twins were nigh inseparable had gotten Reina used to having Theo in her chamber, at first attending to the chores allotted to menservants, but soon, when Ethelinda was busy, taking over some of her duties. His touch was more gentle > so he was better at combing and arrang­ing her hair, kept her clothing neater; abhorred filth, so kept her chamber cleaner.

  When he was fourteen he had his first affair of the heart, and although she was shocked that it was with another male, she soon became used to that, too. Afterward, she no longer dived for cover to hide her nudity whenever he unexpectedly entered her cham­ber. He became just Theo, a male, but not a male in any threatening sense. So it seemed only natural, when Ethelinda died in a tragic accident not long after Reina's father left for the Holy Land, that Theo should assume all her duties.

  Reina had already been attached to him, as she had been to his sister. They consoled each other in their grief over the loss of Ethelinda and became even closer. There grew a bond between them. Theo was not just her servant but her friend, which was why he took liberties with her that no other would dare to take. But her father would not have allowed it, no man was likely to understand, so no one except Wenda actually knew that Theo was her "chambermaid," that it was he who bathed her, dressed her, saw to all her needs.

  The "secret" had been necessary while she was younger, and to protect her even younger ladies from any undue influence, but now Reina was a right unto herself and did not care who knew, for no one would dare gainsay her. Not even her husband could say aught about who should serve her, not with all she would bring to him, especially after knowing the circumstances. But if necessary, she would have it included in her marriage contract.

  Theo was still silent, and Reina's water was grow­ing cold. "Well?" she called from deep in the tub.

  "Well, what?"

  She sat up at that sulky reply to rest her arms on the edge of the tub. It took a moment for her to locate Theo sitting dejectedly on the floor in the corner, his arms wrapped around bent knees upon which his chin drooped.

  She obviously did not need to ask, but did, gently. "He was not interested?"

  "Not even a little."

  ' 'What is wrong with you? You do not usually take rejection so to heart."

  His head snapped up. "You did not see him, Reina, all golden-skinned and so beaut—"

  "Spare me his praises, Theo," she cut in dryly. " 'Tis ever the same with you each time a new, hand­some face comes along. And you never stop to think of your current lover and what he would do if he learned of it. Is he not one of the men-at-arms? I do not want to have to send him to Roth Hill as I did the last one because he beat you for your unfaithfulness.''

  "Can I help it that men are so possessive?"

  Reina laughed at his long-suffering tone. "If you want to be like Eadwina and flit from one man to another, then you should not commit yourself to a single one."

  "You compare me to that slut, who has crawled into every bed in the keep?" he demanded indig­nantly. "She is too stupid to know how to please a man for more than one day!"

  "But smart enough to avoid any jealous beatings, which you are not," she reminded him. "I do not like putting you back together after they are done with you. If you cannot be faithful, Theo, at least pick your lovers smaller than you, or build up your mus­cles."

  "But I like to feel helpless, as a woman would feel. Would you want to be stronger—"

  "We are not discussing me," she retorted as she stood up. "And I do not know why I bother to talk sense into you, for you will do as you always do, no matter what I say."

  Theo was quick to come forward with a drying cloth and to help her out of the large tub, which she was only just able to step over. He was loath to tell her he had made the giant angry, but he could not let her face the man not knowing. She brought up the subject again herself.

  "Did you at least discover what this Sir Ranulf is doing here?"

  He wrapped a cloth around her wet hair, washed earlier by Wenda. "There was not much chance of putting a question to him with all those he was ask­ing. He was curious about Clydon, as most everyone is who comes here for the first time. But he was also curious about you."

  "Oh?"

  Theo grinned, remembering. "He was vexed, I think, that he could not tell how old you were." He was not about to repeat the man's exact words. "He asked your age, when the wedding was to be, and who your betrothed was."

  "And what did you tell him?"

  "Nothing to set his teeth into, so he is like to re­peat his questions to you—that is, if he calms down enough."

  Reina became very still. "Theo, tell me you did not offend him?"

  "Of course not . . . but ... he might think other­wise."

  "Tell me!"

  Theo blushed, looking away. "He was so dis­tracted that when I ... well, I did not get out of the way as quick as you suggested. He was ready to tear me apart. I did not wait around to see if he would."

  "Oh, Theo," Reina groaned. "Could you not sense that he was not interested before you went so far as to make him wroth?"

  "I told you, he was distracted." His tone turned defensive. "There was no easy way—"

  "You could have just asked him right out! Sweet Jesu, what was I thinking to let you near him? I do not need this on top of everything else." She threw open her clothes chest and yanked out whatever was on top. "Well, do not just stand there. I must hurry now so he will not be kept waiting a second time. Did you at least send Eadwina to finish his bath?"

  Theo tossed a linen shift over her head. "She was already busy with one of the others."

  "Who did you send?"

  "Amabel."

  "Theo! Fat Amabel? How could you?"

  "What did I do?" he replied in all innocence as he tied the laces on her long-sleeved chemise. "She was available."

  Reina glared at him, ready to box his ears. "If he was not insulted before, he is like to be now. And I swear, if your silly spite causes me difficulty with him, I will myself nail your hide to the wall."

  Theo protested. "He had so much on his mind he was not interested in a tumble, from anyone. He will not even notice Amabel."

  "You better have the right of it. Oh, J
esu, you still have to dry my hair! Do hurry, Theo. I must be there when he returns to the hall."

  Chapter Eight

  Ranulf came down the tower stairwell to find Walter sitting on the bottom step waiting for him. "I was beginning to think you were lost up there. And here I thought I would be the last to return to the hall after that stunning little blond wench saw to me."

  Walter could not have said anything worse, not af­ter Ranulf had lingered apurpose in the tower cham­ber to give his temper time to cool off. First he was given that catamite, then a female so hefty even he could not get his arms around her if he had wanted to, which fortunately he did not.

  "How was she?" Ranulf said curtly.

  "Need you ask?"

  Ranulf growled low in his throat before demand­ing, "Has the lady come down yet?"

  "Aye, a while ago," Walter said with a curious look. "And what is wrong with you?"

  "Naught that she cannot fix," Ranulf replied and passed through the archway that opened into the Great Hall.

  With anger near choking him, he headed straight for the raised dais and the large hearth in the center of it, where Searle and Eric stood amidst an entire group of ladies. Even the thought of going among so many "ladies" did not daunt him. But he did slow down and feel rather deflated as he rounded the long table now set with white linen for the afternoon meal, realizing belatedly that he would not know which of the women was Reina de Champeney.

  There were four older women, the young Lady Elaine, whom he had frightened earlier, and three other girls who looked no more than twelve or thir­teen. Which- of the older women was the Lady of Clydon was impossible to guess, for even the oldest could be no more than a score and ten years.

  It was the youngest of the four women who stepped away from the others to greet him. That her eyes, as well as the others', were lowered demurely kept him still in the dark, for at least he would have recognized those cerulean-blue eyes he had seen earlier.

  "Sir Ranulf, allow me to make known to you Lady Margaret, wife to Sir William Folville, who is still bedfast and unable to join us."

  Lady Margaret was the oldest. One down and three women to go.

  "Lady Elaine says she has met you." Was that cen­sure he heard in her tone? "And this is Lady Alicia, Sir William's daughter."

  A pretty twelve-year-old. He was obviously being introduced by rank.

  "Dames Hilary and Florette are widows now," the spokeslady continued. "Their husbands were Clydon knights, lost with my father in the Holy Land."

  That demanded a response, even though he now knew for certain after this introduction which was the lady he meant to have words with. Dame Hilary was a stout woman of a score and five years, Dame Florette a winsome brunette with green eyes that peeked up at him shyly. And that took care of the women present except for the one beside him.

  "I am sorry to hear of your recent loss," Ranulf said to these two, getting no more than a halfhearted smile and nod in reply.

  "Cecilia's and Eleanor's fathers also joined mine on Crusade. We are hoping these knights will return safely with Lord Guy."

  These were the last two younger girls, each too shy or frightened to look up at him. "The honor is mine," Ranulf allowed, bowing to them all.

  And now that that was over, Ranulf was damned well done with politeness. He turned to the Lady Reina with every intention of taking her off some­where and blistering her ears with what he was feel­ing.

  She spoke first,, however, placing a tiny hand on his arm and leaning closer to him to say in a soft, half-whispered voice, "Sir Ranulf, do you come with me, please, I would have a private word with you ere we sit down to table."

  For all that "please" she included, it was still a command to his ears. That it suited him and was what he would have said, though not so nicely, did not change the fact he did not like being commanded by a woman. But she did not wait for his response, tak­ing it for granted he would not refuse her. She turned away from the others, her hand not just resting on his arm now but gripping it, as if she meant to pull him along with her, as if she could if he chose not to follow. But he did follow her, only because he wanted that private word, too.

  She led him to a window embrasure on the side of the hall between what appeared to be wall chambers. There were two steps up into the arched alcove, an area five feet wide and as deep as the thickness of the walls, with two benches facing each other, lit brightly by afternoon sunlight.

  She entered first, sitting on the left bench to face away from the dais. Ranulf took the other bench, though this left him in clear view of those still gath­ered at the hearth. He did not think that would stop him from venting his anger, as justifiable as it was, but again she did not give him a chance to have the first word.

  "Thank you, my lord, for allowing me to apolo­gize to you in private. The incident that resulted from my inattention is embarrassing for me to speak of, as I am sure it is for you, so I will be brief. I meant no insult to you in sending to you my personal servant. I was not thinking clearly when he beseeched me to let him attend you. Theodric is not usually so clumsy in giving insult, but in this case he tells me he did, and for that I beg your forgiveness, for myself and Theo. There is no excuse for his thinking you would be ... he was simply besotted . . . oh, Jesu, this is more embarrassing than I thought."

  Reina squirmed uncomfortably, her cheeks flaming with color. The man was not helping her to end this. She had not been able to meet his eyes during this recital, but knew he stared at her, his own color high, waiting to see what more she would say. What more could she say?

  With a sigh, she floundered on. "One has only to look at you, Sir Ranulf, to know you are not like . . . well, you must realize by now that Theo is different, that he is attracted only to . . ." She could not go on in that vein. "Verily, I am putting my foot in it."

  "Aye, you have that aright."

  Reina stiffened to hear his surly bass rumble at last.

  So he was still in high dudgeon, was he? She finally met his eyes directly and did not like what she saw in their depths, darkened now to indigo.

  Coldly, offended herself that he could not be mag­nanimous after her apology, she said, "The mistake was mine. Theo cannot help how he is, but he has been with me for five years and is dear to me. I have already chastised him and will assure that you will not be reminded of the incident by his presence. But if you cannot see your way clear to forgetting the matter and wish to leave immediately, I will under­stand."

  Forget it or leave? Ranulf had to choke back what he would like to say to that ultimatum. The little bitch. She was forcing him to let the matter rest, denying him a chance to vent his fury now that she had put it this way. Of course he could not leave, not until night came and he could take her with him. But, by God, she had seen to it that he no longer had any regrets at all about delivering her posthaste to Rothwell. The two deserved each other.

  With difficulty, Ranulf got out, "As you say, the matter is forgotten."

  "Forsooth, I cannot say I feel forgiven, Sir Ranulf. Do you wish to shake me again? Will that help?"

  He glared at her for reminding him that he had also made an unforgivable mistake, and he had little doubt the reminding was done apurpose. And she had the audacity to smile at him now, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.

  Nor did she await an answer. She reached across the narrow space between them and placed her small hand on his knee, then drew it back as if recalling she was not familiar enough with him to touch him. Yet she still smiled.

  "I was not serious with that offer, you know. Does no one ever tease you?"

  "Aye, Walter risks his life often to do so."

  She laughed, a soft, pleasing sound. "Fie on you if that is so. I hope 'tis only an empty belly that has you so surly, for that I can amend."

  Ranulf had the grace to blush. The lady was still teasing, but if he did not let go of his bad temper right quickly, she would not be offering him a chance to leave, but demanding that he do so.

 
"Your pardon, demoiselle. And your viands will indeed be most welcome."

  "Then we must not make you wait any longer. Come, and you shall share a trencher with me."

  Christ's toes, did he have to? She was honoring him, but he did not see it so. To sit next to her and have to observe all the courtly rules, to feed her the best portions, cut her meat, make sure her cup was never empty, to in effect do all he could to please her? When a man was hungry he ought to be able to eat his meal in peace, but how could he with ladies pres­ent demanding you serve and amuse them?

  Ranulf closed his eyes with a groan, then snapped them open again to watch her as she returned to the dais, once again assuming he would follow. His eyes fixed on her narrow hips, swaying gently as she walked, or more likely glided away. How old was she? Fifteen? Sixteen? She could not be much more than that, not as tiny as she was. But he had to allow she did have breasts. Two small mounds, but notice­able despite several layers of clothing.

  Sitting across from her, he had gotten a good look at her at last whilst she avoided his eyes due to the nature of her apology. There was nothing childlike about her face. It was small but clearly defined, the face of a woman. Slanting brows were nearly hidden beneath a fringe of thick bangs. Almond-shaped eyes, a narrow, straight nose, a wide mouth with full lower lip, and a small chin completed the picture. It was not a beautiful face in the ordinary sense, but cer­tainly interesting with that lush lower lip and unblem­ished skin, a creamy white softness that almost demanded touching. But what was unusual and strik­ing about her was the combination of those light, light blue eyes with hair as black as pitch, brows just as black, thick lashes blacker still. Not beautiful, but by no means ugly.

  She did not attract him, however, not in the least. It was the strong, robust wenches who caught his eye, women capable of withstanding a rough tumble, which was all he was interested in. Small, delicate women scared the hell out of him, and if they were ladies, he liked them even less because they were la­dies. And this particular lady he liked least of all for thinking a few paltry words of apology could appease the insult she had dealt him. Now she had added teas­ing to the list of grievances he had against her. He might have to put up with such annoyance from Wal­ter, but not from her.