Defy Not the Heart (14 page)

“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.

“
C
ome, 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 farm. 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 nothing, 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 Ranulf’s 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.

That the clothes were made especially for him was indicated by their perfect fit. That Ranulf did not care was indicative of his mood, still sunk in gloom.

He heard little of the praise from his friends for his new finery, did not even recognize his wife when she entered the hall, and was barely aware of being ushered out of the keep for the short ride to the village, where the ceremony was to take place before the village church. With prodding from the priest, he managed to repeat the terms of the marriage contract, what he was to contribute to the marriage, and give his wife a ring in token of the dower, as well as a gift of gold coins. The ring and the money represented a pledge, in Old English, a
wed
, whence a wedding. The vows were then exchanged for all to hear, and before Ranulf knew it, they were moving inside the church for the nuptial mass.

Yet even during the long mass, it did not dawn on him that it was actually accomplished. He had wed his lady wife again. He had warned his men to be prepared for anything, but he was so in a daze himself, he could have been struck down from any side and not seen the blow coming. Not until the mass was over and Sir Henry approached him right there in the church to hear him swear homage to Shefford, did Ranulf begin to suspect what an idiot he had been. That done, the Clydon vassals were quick to do likewise, and swore fealty to him for their honors then and there.

No longer dazed but still thoroughly bemused, Ranulf looked at his wife, who held to his arm as they left the church together. “You married me?”

She trilled a soft laugh before she leaned closer to whisper up at him, “I am glad you were at our first wedding, my lord, for you surely have not been much present at this one.”

It was a red-faced groom who was greeted by the cheering crowd outside the church.

I
f Ranulf thought he had been served a feast yesterday in honor of Sir Henry’s arrival, his wedding feast was worthy of a king. A total of six courses was served, double the normal number, each course consisting of numerous dishes each of meat, fowl, fish, eggs, vegetables, desserts, and ended with a subtlety, a sugar, paste, and jelly concoction shaped to depict something, in this case scenes of courtly love.

Complete ceremony was observed, with the pantler arriving first with the bread and butter, followed by the butler and his assistants with the wine and ale. Squires lined up behind tables to serve their respective knights, and to cut and replace the trenchers after each course.

With such variety, everyone’s appetite was well satisfied. Roasted were venison, boar, lamb, veal, partridges, and peacocks. There were partridges also in a mustard and ginger sauce, or stuffed with eggs and herbs, and a number of stewed meats for those with not so sturdy teeth. For different tastes in fowl, woodcocks, mallards, herons, plovers, larks, and redshanks were also served. For those who preferred fish, there was turbot basted with verjuice and spices, oysters served on a bed of parsley soaked in vinegar, haddock cooked with garlic butter, boiled mackerel with mint and sorrel sauce, or fresh herring, crawfish, mussels, lamprey, and fish tarts. The desserts
were too many to name, from spiced fruits to pastries with every kind of sweet filling.

His wife had not lied when she said she had no lack in food stores at Clydon. With such abundance, the feast naturally lasted the remainder of the day. Entertainment was nonstop, with music, or jokes and stories provided by the guests so inclined or by the dozens of wandering performers hired for the special occasion.

When Ranulf returned from the privy, it was to find the lower tables gone and a noisy carole in progress, where the dancers joined hands and sang as they circled. His lady had joined in, and as he watched her laughing and singing with the others, he realized it was the first time all day that he was really
seeing
her, though she had been near his side ever since leaving the church.

She glowed with a special loveliness that had naught to do with her glittering attire. Her chemise was the same white silk as his tunic, shot through with silver, her bliaut a bright blue sarcenet silk edged with silver embroidery, and girded about her hips was a belt sparkling with red and blue gems. She wore no mantle or veil to detract from the richness of her clothes, and her lustrous black hair was unbound and flowing about her as she danced, crowned with a circlet of silver that slanted endearingly to one side.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lovely blue eyes gleamed with pleasure, and without warning, Ranulf’s body came alive as he watched her. Annoyance quickly followed.

He resumed his seat at the high table, the seat of honor, aye, the lord’s chair,
his
chair. It did not matter that this had been the chair offered him every time
he had sat at this table. Today it was truly his. Yet when he thought of the agony of doubt he had taken to bed last night, he could dredge up no satisfaction. And she had been amused by his surprise in the church, teasing him about it. ’Twas more than likely that she had deliberately provoked his suspicions with that smug little smile of hers last night, just so he
would
suffer through the night. She was devious, spiteful, everything he knew a lady like her to be—yet he looked at her carefree abandon in the dance and felt lust for her. He must be mad.

She was out of breath when she returned to him, the short hairs curling damply about her face, laughing at some jest called out to her from a noble across the room. She did not glance at Ranulf once, so he was surprised from his dark thoughts when she spoke to him.

“You do not dance, my lord?”

“Nay.”

“I do not much either, though ’tis expected today.”

Ranulf was in no mood for frivolous conversation. “When do you…that is, will your ladies escort you from the hall soon?”

“Oh, but ’tis early yet.”

It annoyed him that she still would not look at him, enough to ask, “Have you your little vial handy?”

“Of course,” she replied absently.

That had not gotten a reaction from her either, and he was of half a mind to pull her across his lap to see if
that
would. But then her cerulean eyes did turn to him, proving she had been attentive to his questions. Only she had misunderstood his motive.

“You need not be nervous about the bedding cer
emony,” she told him in a soft murmur. “There is no question that you will repudiate me, nor I you, so we need not be stood naked before each other and the guests for inspection.”

He grunted, even more annoyed with her. Why was it she never blushed when speaking so plainly of such matters? The control she had of her emotions was commendable, yet thoroughly irritating just now.

She interpreted his frown correctly. “You are not enjoying yourself, my lord? Is there aught I can—”

“You can get yourself to bed, lady, and right quickly. I want the last formalities of the day concluded.”

Now
she blushed, and her eyes dropped to her lap. She sat there silently for a long moment, but at last she gave a stiff little nod and rose to leave.

Ranulf sat back, feeling the tension flow out of him. He had not realized how important her response had become to him in those long seconds of silence. If she had tried to gainsay him—but she had not. She had taken his words as an order and obeyed, giving him a most satisfying feeling that lasted all of two minutes, when it dawned on him that the hour
was
early yet, and that his wife had been enjoying herself immensely until he had visited his dark mood on her. And, verily, he had no
reason
to be in such a grouch. Was he not lord of all he surveyed? The most fortunate man there? As powerful now as his own father? Aye, but what had he done to earn it?

“What is
that
doing up here?”

Reina saw the “that” in question lying smack in the center of her wedding bed. She had had Lady Ella doused for fleas when the cat showed up with the rest
of Ranulf’s men, but she had not realized the creature had been sharing the chamber with her master.

“’Tis Ranulf’s pet,” she replied to Dame Hilary’s huffy question.

“Truly?” One of the other ladies giggled.

Reina had to smile, too. If they thought
that
was funny, wait until they saw the ugly creature wrapped around the giant’s neck.

“But animals have never been allowed on this floor,” Dame Hilary persisted.

Reina shrugged. “Clydon has a new lord now. If he desires his pet in his chamber, who is to gainsay him?”

“You are, my lady.”

My, what confidence they had in her. If they could have seen how hastily she had scurried off to collect them for the bedding, they would not be so quick to think she could get rid of one scrawny cat. Of course, it might be called the lord’s chamber, but the sleeping quarters were traditionally the lady’s domain. She would have a say about whom she shared those quarters with—aside from her lord, that is.

Thinking of him and how flustered he had made her with his growled order to get herself to bed, she told Dame Florette, “Take it to the kitchen for some warm milk.” Then, thinking how the cook would not appreciate that, she added, “Explain to the kitchen staff who it belongs to, so they do not chase it out to the stables.”

“Does it bite?” the young widow asked warily.

Hilary picked Lady Ella up by the scruff of her neck and shoved her at Florette. “If it does, bite it back.”

That brought a round of laughter, and Reina’s ner
vousness eased somewhat as she joined in. She had already experienced the first bedding, which was the worst, so she had no real reason to be nervous now—yet she was. Mayhap she should not have ordered her husband’s wine watered down so much that it was nigh colored water. He might have enjoyed himself more if he were a little drunk, and not rushed her up here. Mayhap she should not have teased him today either. His behavior had been strange all day, waxing between bemusement and plain sourness, no mood to take teasing in fun, as it was meant.

What could she expect from a sober, disgruntled giant? Rough and quick again? Or rough and long?
Jesú
, she must have been mad to bring this on herself! Or mayhap there would be no bedding at all?

That thought brightened her considerably. After all, she had told him about the vial of “blood” for the wedding sheets, which Theo had earlier hidden in here. Ranulf did not have to bed her simply because everyone in Clydon expected him to. And he had only said he wanted the formalities over with, not that he meant to…

She had worked herself into full nervousness again, but as that was the expected state for her to be in, it did not draw comment other than the normal gentle teasing and ribaldry suited to the occasion.

She remained silent while her clothes were carefully removed and put away in the aumbry, but seeing the white, silver-threaded chemise in Hilary’s hands reminded her that her husband had not even mentioned his new clothes. Her ladies had worked long hours at her behest to finish his mantle and chausses in time. She herself had sewn his tunic to match her own clothing from an extra bolt of the precious sendal
she had been saving. Though why she had bothered she did not know, and was not likely to do so again when the man showed such little appreciation.

Yet he had looked fine, so fine. Did she really need to hear his thanks when she had felt so proud on first sight of him in his splendid attire?

She sighed, then recalled where she was and blushed. But no one had heard her. The women were too busy giggling at each other’s jests.

Lady Margaret produced a comb and began stroking it through Reina’s long hair, but after a moment they heard the men coming, and Reina was quickly put into bed. There she was to sit waiting like the sacrificial virgin on the altar, which was just how she felt.

If anyone had thought Ranulf would be carried over the threshold on the shoulders of his merry escort, as was usually the case, Reina could have told them ’twas not likely to happen. Who could lift him? And no one tried. But if Reina had known he led the pack himself up the narrow stairwell, her fear would have increased tenfold.

The ribaldry continued, now more coarse with the men’s arrival. Reina refused to listen, or watch as Walter dared to wrest Ranulf’s tunic from him. She concentrated on the hunt she had planned for the morrow; on what to prepare for dinner if at least half the guests stayed on another full day, which was likely; on the visit she owed the village to tend its ills, which she had neglected these past days. She dredged up anything likely to distract her, and then the door closed, breaking her concentration, and she swallowed, with difficulty, to see she was alone with her husband.

He
had closed the door, and he wasted no time in coming directly to the bed. He still wore his braies and chausses, though nothing else. Reina held her breath. Was he going to jump on her again? Nay, not this time. He yanked the covers away from her instead.

She gasped, though it was a tiny sound only she heard. He was staring at her body so intently the roof could have fallen on his head and he would not have known it. She still was not breathing, afraid to move, afraid to cover herself even with her hands, afraid of what he would do next, this unpredictable giant she had married.

“So ’twas no dream,” he said.

Her eyes moved warily up to meet his, which were darkened now to indigo. He seemed surprised by whatever he had discovered, and there was some other emotion there she was not quite sure of.

“Is that good—or bad?”

Ranulf only grunted in response. She wanted compliments after all she had put him through? She had best not hold her breath waiting. But Christ’s toes, he was glad it had
not
been a dream he had carried in his mind these past few days.

He remembered clearly now her standing in the center of his bed in her short linen shift, looking like a little Valkyrie about to do battle with him. He had been fired with lust again, just as he had been earlier that day when he had seen her astride that horse. But her body stripped bare! Who would have thought the woman hid such a perfect form beneath her clothing? She might be small of stature, but no limb was too long or short, every part of her shaped just right.

He wanted to just stand there and look at her. He
wanted to plunge right into her. It was vexing that he could not do both at once, but at least he knew he could not. Last time he was not sure of anything, even doubting that there had been a last time. This time his lust was no less rampant, but he had control of it—he hoped he had control of it. Christ’s toes, would he always find himself at a disadvantage with this lady?

One knee came down on the bed, then the other. This time he heard her gasp and he met her eyes again, seeing what he had missed before.

“You are afraid?” he asked doubtfully.

Her nod surprised him, especially when he clearly recalled her telling him the morning after with heavy sarcasm, “Do I look dead?” when he had stupidly asked if he had killed her.

He began again. “Surely you know—”

“I know.”

“Then what do you fear? Think you I am different from any other man?”

She made a choking sound that produced a quick frown from him. But then he looked down at himself and conceded grudgingly, “Aye, mayhap a little different.” The sound turned to strangling, and brought his brows together more sharply. “You do not have to belabor the point. And you have withstood my size once without dying, as you were so quick to tell me. So what do you fear?”

“I—I suppose ’tis the unknown, of—of not knowing why you were so impatient to have us alone here.”

He stared at her incredulously. “Not knowing…lady, why else would I send you to bed?”

“But your impatience—”

“What do you expect when the one woman who
now belongs in my bed keeps herself from it? Abstinence I can deal with as well as any man if needs be, but
forced
abstinence does not suit my nature. Better you know it now. I do not like being denied something I want.”