Defy Not the Heart (25 page)

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?”

“
Jesú
, 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.

R
eina 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—Ranulf’s, but not Ranulf. ’Twas 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. ’Twas not every day you met an older, identical version of the man you had wed.

“Are you here to see Ranulf?”

“Ranulf?” ’Twas 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 that 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 Ranulf’s 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.

’Twas 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?
Jesú
, 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 Ranulf’s 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?
Jesú
, 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.

“Then you will not see him?”

“Nay, I will not,” he growled.

“That is too bad,” she replied lightly, as if the matter were settled. “I was hoping to learn how he could know so much about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Somewhere along the way you must have given him reason to be proud to call you son. I cannot imagine how…”

“Reina—”

“I was only jesting!” she cried when he started toward her. She scrambled off the bed and moved toward the door before adding, “But you should have heard him singing your praises when he thought I had bought your services. I suppose he wanted to assure me that I would be getting my money’s worth. ’Twas a pleasure to correct his mistake. I must confess, however, that I was terribly ungracious at first. I know not what came over me. But you will be glad to know he is as thick-skinned as you are when it comes to insults. He simply would not take offense.”