Defy Not the Heart by Johanna Lindsey

  He could at least try to be as she would like. There were those comforts Walter had mentioned as a re­ward. And she had given him so much, more than he had ever expected to have. He would try.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Reina's good spirits had returned somewhat by the time they crossed over Clydon's first drawbridge. Her guests had enjoyed good sport, even if she had not. They were still quite merry. They had returned early enough to refresh themselves ere they sat down to another feast that was awaiting them. And most would be leaving after that, to take advantage of the rest of the afternoon to get back to their own homes. Cly don could then return to normal, at least by the morrow, which would be a welcome relief.

  As much as Reina usually enjoyed company, in­sisting her guests stay as long as they liked, this time she did not. She needed some time alone to acclimate herself to this drastic change in her life. She had even thought of a way to get rid of her husband for a while, if he would only agree.

  But she was not to get rid of all the guests, did in fact have a new one, as she saw when she entered the hall with the hunting party. John de Lascelles rose from the bench by the hearth, where Lady Elaine had been having a conversation with him, and crossed the hall to meet Reina halfway.

  Her own step had slowed. She felt raw anger at first sight of him, for at the moment she was none too pleased with her choice of husband, and John could have changed all that if he had just arrived one week sooner. One cursed week! Then she felt contrition.

  He had his own troubles in taking over his brother's lands. She could not blame hers on him, no matter how much she wanted to blame them on someone. And she was forgetting that Ranulf was her choice, and for all the reasons that were important. It was just her misfortune that she was beginning to dislike him personally.

  Aside from those feelings, Reina was glad to see her old friend, for it had been more than a year since he had visited Clydon. He had lost weight in that time he could ill afford to lose, and looked a bit pale, but otherwise the same. His green eyes still revealed a tenderhearted nature, his expression warm with delight to see her. She summoned a warm smile for him, too, and returned his brief embrace of greeting.

  "Lady Elaine tells me good wishes are in order, Reina. Was this the urgency implied in your letter, a summons to witness your marriage?"

  Reina accepted this excuse gladly. "Indeed. I had so wished you could have attended the wedding."

  She immediately regretted the choice of those words and their double meaning, which she had not intended, but which was apparent when she heard her steward smother a snort. She noticed Theo leaning nonchalantly against the wall and saw him roll his eyes. Simon and Guiot turned quickly away to hide their expressions.

  But what else could she have said? John might have been thrilled at the idea of having her to wife, espe­cially since the power behind Clydon could have more easily alleviated his present difficulties. To tell him now that she had wanted him for husband, when it was too late to do aught about it, was apt only to cause unnecessary bitterness on his part.

  "Why the secrecy, Reina? Why could you not be more specific in your letters?"

  "What? Oh, that. Trouble with one of my neigh­bors, intercepting my messengers," she said eva­sively. "He wanted to marry me himself, you see."

  "Lord Falkes, I would wager, but we can speak of that later. Do you tell me which of these noble gen­tlemen is that fortunate lord to win you."

  He was looking behind her, at the faces he did not recognize. Jesu, how could she have forgotten about Ranulf, even for a moment?

  She swung around to find him right behind her, so close her nose collided with his hard chest. Curse and rot him, had he heard her, too, and the wistfulness in those words about wishing John could have attended the wedding? But his expression, when she craned her neck to see it, was only curious, and she realized he did not know who John was. Mayhap he would not recognize his name either, having heard it just once.

  Reina quickly introduced them, hoping she could as quickly separate them, but that was not to be. She did not know what exactly she had expected from Ranulf, antagonism mayhap, in seeing John as a rival. What she got was a golden brow raised in her direc­tion, and a distinct feeling of amusement just below the surface of his falsely bland expression.

  "Now where have I heard that name?" he asked her.

  "You would have heard me mention it," she re­plied tightly, and to John: "Do you come with me and I will see you refreshed before we sit down to table. Sir Henry left this morn, so you can have his chamber."

  She deliberately dragged John away before Ranulf could say any more. He knew, the lout. But what did he find so amusing? So John was closer to her height than his. So he was not as broad of shoulder or thick of arm, was in fact quite thin of frame. At least John was kind and gentle, and he would not have tumbled her in the woods.

  When she returned to the hall, it was to hear her husband's booming laughter. He stood with his friends, Walter, Searle, and the others, and she flushed with anger, imagining some jest at dear John's expense. She would not have it, and marched directly into their group while her irritation was high.

  "I would like a private word, my lord."

  "As the little general, or as my wife?"

  It could have been said in teasing and likely was, but as he had never teased her ere this, she did not take it as teasing now. And even if he were only teas­ing, she was in no mood for it.

  She glared at him, refusing to repeat her request, but he did not move to come away with her, and appeared unlikely to do so. She stared pointedly at each of his companions until the slow-wits finally took the hint and departed.

  "That was unnecessary, my lady," Ranulf said, laughter in his eyes. "I keep no secrets from them."

  Why that should make her blush, she did not know. He would not tell them of what he did with her— would he? Nay, he would not, for 'twas certainly naught to brag about.

  "I am glad you have friends you can share things with. I too have friends, but I do not share everything with all of them. Do I make myself clear, my lord?"

  "Not precisely."

  She gritted her teeth at his deliberate perversity, for he knew very well what she meant. His grin in reply told her that.

  "Then by all means I will spell it out for you. Do not by word or insinuation make Lord John aware of the real reason he was summoned here by me. There is no godly reason he should know now, and every reason he should not. But more importantly, I do not want him to know."

  "And if I ignore your wishes in this?"

  Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. "You want to spite me, do you do so. That is, of course, your pre­rogative. But like is deserving of like, and I have my own ways of getting even."

  She did not care at the moment what reaction he would have to that. But instead of getting angry that she would dare to threaten him, he laughed.

  "I have no doubt you could think of something most unpleasant to visit on me, Reina. But you need not worry about your little friend. I will never show you up to be the sweet liar you are as long as your half-truths and deceptions cause no hurt."

  She was too shocked at finally hearing her name from his lips to immediately grasp the true meaning of the rest of his words. Then it came to her. He had just offered her husbandly support, not just now, but whenever it was needful. 'Twas something she had not expected from him. Did he really mean it?

  Whether he did or not, to have said it, and after what she had just said, made Reina lower her eyes with an uncomfortable feeling of shame. And the feeling increased with her realizing that somehow he had brought her down to his level of churlishness.

  'Twas not like her to be so touchy and quick to temper. She knew that incident in the woods was to blame, though she was not sure why. But that was no excuse to deliberately provoke him from his own good mood, especially while they still had guests whom she did not want witnessing an argument between them.

  Contritely, still with bowed head, she said
, "I thank you for that, my lord."

  "Nay, I cannot accept thanks for what is your due— any more than I would thank you for what is mine."

  Her eyes came back to his with a suspicious glint, and his smile told hef she did not mistake his mean­ing. He was reminding her, without saying it directly, that he had every right to tumble her in the woods or anywhere else if that was his wont. Her contrition dissolved on the spot.

  But before she could summon a suitable reply for what she thought of his rights, he continued in a new vein. "Now tell me, just out of curiosity, would you really have married that little—"

  "Do not say it, do not," she gritted out forcefully. "You dare to judge a man by his appearance?"

  "His appearance tells me I could blow him over with a deep breath."

  She bristled to see the laughter again in his eyes. "You think so?" she challenged. "John may not win many tourneys, but that does not mean he has no skill with a sword, or the speed that bigger brutes lack."

  "I am willing to put it to the test."

  Her brow rose at a derisive slant. "To pit your breath against his sword?" •

  "I did not mean that," he snorted.

  "Of course you did not. But do you draw your sword at my wedding celebration for aught other than to cut a haunch of meat, and I will box your ears as I would any other fool's."

  "Think you can reach them?"

  She could have recalled sooner that he was unchiv-alrous enough to accept a lady's challenge. "With a stool if needs be," she retorted.

  That brought a chuckle. "You have no need of stools when I am near,"

  She jumped back when he moved to prove it, reaching for her waist to lift her up to his level. She put out a hand to ward him off, sparing a glance to see if they were observed in this ridiculousness. That it appeared not did not ease her exasperation.

  "Jesii, there is just no dealing with you today, and I have better things to do than waste my time trying."

  "Reina?"

  She had turned away, but now she swung back, ready to blast him with the full heat of her temper. She did no more than open her mouth before her re­flexes had her catching what he tossed at her.

  "Yours, I believe?" he asked, his expression de­ceptively bland. "You should not leave them lying about just anywhere, wife. 'Tis likely to give a man ideas."

  She did not understand until she looked down at what she held in her hands, and then she sucked in her breath so sharply she choked on it, adding to the hot color that suffused her face. Horrified, she stuffed her braies up her wide sleeve, gave her husband a fulminating glare worthy of his bizarre humor, and departed ere someone noticed she had shrunk in size, for she felt about two feet tall at the moment.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Dusk was a dismal bank of clouds threatening rain, but Reina made it back to the keep ere the first drops fell. She had spent the remainder of the afternoon in the village, tending to the ills and hurts she had ne­glected this past week. It was her custom to go every few days for an hour or two, unless someone was seriously ill, which fortunately no one was at this time.

  Her baker's sister, who had yet to carry a child full term, was pregnant again and needed a new supply of hollyhock. Old Delwyn needed gout weed for his swollen joints. Red Alma, the village light-skirt, had got her foot stepped on by her cow while milking it, and the small cut had become a large sore from in­fection. Reina left her enough horsetail for several applications, and also the beauty ointments made from cowslip Alma always managed to wheedle out of her, which kept down her freckles. There were the usual colds, sore throats, and fevers to see to, and a dog bite needing madweed, some running cankers and ringworm needing tetter berry. And while she was at it, she made up a mixture of sweet violet for herself, for its calming effect.

  She stayed much longer than she was needed. Even after her neglect, she was too efficient for it to take more than two hours to see to everyone. She stayed longer to visit, to answer the many questions about the new lord—and to hide. Without wrapping it up neatly with excuses, she was suffering plain old cow­ardice, enough to desert her guests for the remainder of the day without the slightest twinge of conscience.

  But who could blame her? Dinner had been late because she had been reluctant to come back to the hall earlier. And when she did, she had felt her face coloring every time she sensed Ranulf looking at her, knowing, just knowing he was silently laughing at her. She did not think she would ever get over the morti­fication of not having been aware that a very pertinent article of her clothing had been missing. But he had known, that devil, that miscreant of misplaced hu­mor.

  She had escaped as soon as was possible, and was reluctant to return even now. She could only hope that her husband would be gone, that Simon had done as she suggested and convinced Ranulf to leave with him.

  She saw Aylmer watching her as she dismounted at the base of the forebuilding stairs and tossed the reins to a waiting groom. That he did not rush forward to greet her as was his custom made her realize she had not seen the boy recently, in fact, goodness, not since the day de Rochefort's men had attacked. True, he did not normally come into the hall, and she had del­egated many of her regular duties, in which she was likely to come across him, to other of her ladies to allow her more time with her guests. Even if he had come to the hall to try to gain her notice, 'twas not likely she would have seen him as crowded as it had been.

  He was sitting on the side of a storage shed with his back braced against the wall. Once he saw he had her notice, however, he looked away. She knew then that something was definitely wrong, and rather than call him to her, she crossed the ward to him, in no great hurry to enter the keep even with the first drops of rain begun. Only when she reached him did she notice that he had company. Lady Ella was curled up in his lap.

  She did not mention the cat, asking the boy, "Have you been avoiding me, Aylmer?"

  He did not look up at her to reply. "You have been busy, my lady."

  "So I have."

  Reina squatted down next to him. The short eaves of the shed did naught to keep the rain away, and so she ignored it as the boy was doing, though why the cat was not running for cover she did not know. The thing was as stupid as it was ugly.

  She said speculatively, "Did you think things would be different now I have married?"

  "Are they not?"

  He still would not look at her, and was not much able to conceal his gloomy expression. She was not sure what was bothering him, but she had an idea.

  "Everything should be back to normal soon now," she assured him. "The only difference is that Clydon has a lord again, and more men to protect us. Do you not think that is to our benefit?"

  "We did well enough—"

  "Nay, we did not, Aylmer, and you know it. Now tell me why you are out here doing naught when you should be at your job assisting the wafer maker this time of day.''

  "He came in the kitchen," Aylmer said in expla­nation, his voice a mere whisper.

  "He? Oh, him. So?"

  "So I ran off, and now Aldrich will whip me for it, especially since he still has extra wafers to make for those guests remaining."

  "Do you let me see to Aldrich," she replied, thinking to herself that if she found out he had been whipping the boy, she would have his ears served up for the morrow's dinner instead of his wafers. "But you knew you were wrong, Aylmer, to run—" She could not finish in that vein, not after she had just done the same thing. "Never mind. Sometimes there is good reason to disappear for a time. Why did you?"

  "Why?" He finally looked at her in surprise, as if the answer should be obvious to her. "I—I did not want the lord to notice me. I was afraid did he see my foot, he would send me away from the keep."

  Reina groaned inwardly. She wanted to put her* arms around the boy and assure him that would never happen, but how could she? He was right. Some men did react despicably toward cripples, as if they saw them as a threat to their own immortality, and she did not know Ranulf well enough to
speak for him.

  She chose logic, and could only hope it would prove true. "If he sent you away, Aylmer, 'twould mean he feared you. I do not know about you, but I had always heard there was naught that giants feared—except mayhap another giant."

  The try for levity was not successful. Instead of giving her a relieved smile, Aylmer was thoughtful for a moment, mulling over what she had said, may­hap even accepting it. But that was not all that was bothering him.

  "When he walks, the floors tremble. And you can hear him inside the keep, even when he is without. Do you not fear him, my lady?"

  She supposed a small boy would be frightened of someone with Ranulf s intimidating height. Jesu, most men would be.

  "We have to take into account that a big man does usually have a big voice, too, and a heavy step. That does not mean he is mean or cruel. Look you at that cat you are holding. Would a mean man keep such a creature for pet?"

  Aylmer's eyes rounded. "You mean it belongs to him?"

  "Aye, what did you think?"

  "I thought he was a stray in need of care. I found him scrounging around the slop bucket in the kitchen, and thought it best to save him a kick from cook and get him out of there."

  "That was kind of you, Aylmer. But he is a she, and cook would not have kicked this particular cat. He knows who she belongs to."

  "Oh," he said, gloomy once again.

  Reina smiled at that forlorn expression. " 'Tis true, however, that she needs looking after. Would you like the job?"

  At last he grinned. "Aye," and then the grin failed. "But will the lord let me?"

  Reina could only shrug. "I will ask him anon. But right now, let us get out of this drizzle ere it starts to rain hard. You can take Lady Ella back to the kitchen for now."

  "Is that her name?"

  "Aye, that is her silly name. And, Aylmer, do you tell Master Aldrich that if he lays a hand on you, he must deal with me. But also apologize to the man for leaving him shorthanded."