Defy Not the Heart

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Defy Not the Heart Page 29

by Johanna Lindsey


  Once more Reina could not help feeling an unrea­sonable anger toward his father. Richard had been gifted with Warhurst when he was only eighteen, to do with as he would, but Ranulf had been given an even smaller property, and not told of it at all. And he still could not have it, not until he was twenty years and five. Not that he needed it now, but what kind of reasoning was that, to make him wait? He could have made use of it before, could have won a wife with it, started a family . . . and she would not have met him. Jesu, what was she getting angry about? Hugh's reasoning, whatever it was, had worked to her benefit, if not to Ranulf s.

  Still, Ranulf was to have had no more surprises here. She had been lax in letting the talk get away from her control. Hugh too noticed Ranulfs adverse reaction and came closer, so close that Reina was near pressed between them. Not that they should no­tice her way down there. Sometimes a lack of height was a very real disadvantage, which she had never felt so keenly as just then.

  "You hold it against me?" Hugh asked Ranulf carefully. "I was told that you might when I made the decision, but I had my reasons. I did not want you to be satisfied with your lot and strive no further to improve it. You were so like me, Ranulf. I wanted to see how you would fare on your own first." And then he grinned, that pride Reina had earlier detected in him there for Ranulf to see now. "I would say you have done right nicely. Farring Cross has become in­significant."

  "Farring Cross!" Ranulf began with a gasp, but ended in a burst of laughter.

  Hugh also laughed, and Reina could not for the life of her figure why until he added, "De Millers had the devil's own time trying to keep you from learning he was only the steward there. "Iwas rather discon­certing for him that you were trying to purchase your own property. He thought surely you would kill him when he was forced t© again raise his price to keep you from buying it, but I would not let him tell you the truth."

  Reina squeezed out from between them to shake her head at the irony. Richard did not understand what they found so funny, however.

  "You tried to purchase this Farring Cross?" he asked his brother.

  "Aye."

  "It must be richer than our father implied, then."

  "Not richer, just in excellent condition and suitable to my needs at the time," Ranulf said placidly, but suddenly his demeanor changed, as did his voice, which turned mocking. "Unlike you, I did not desire an estate of the extent and magnitude of, let us say— Clydon?"

  Reina noted Richard's distinct unease at this insin­uation. She wanted to applaud her husband, but first she would see what further reaction could be wrested from Richard.

  "Oh, you poor man," Reina said to Ranulf. "How unfortunate you should be encumbered with such an estate after all."

  "What estate?" Richard was quick to demand.

  "You see, Lord Hugh," Reina chided gently, "you should have introduced them as I suggested; then Richard would already know that his brother is Lord of Clydon." And to Richard, whose face was swiftly crimsoning with fury: "We were wed less than a sen­night ago.'

  "But he is a bastard!" Richard exploded. "How could you marry a bastard?"

  There it was, more clear than if he had come right out and admitted the truth. He had assumed she would not have him because he was a bastard, and so had decided to take her by force. But Ranulfs fortunate arrival had ruined his plans. She wondered if Richard had thought to try again, mayhap today even, and that was really why he was here. Some pretext to get her to leave Clydon with him, and he would have had her. Too bad he had not thought of that first. Nay, not too bad—thank God.

  "I do not see what the circumstances of Ranulfs birth have to do with it,'' Reina said calmly enough, though her eyes had become frigid. "Verily, did mat matter, I would not have considered you for my hus­band first."

  "What?" he fairly shrieked.

  " 'Tis true, Richard. I sent you numerous letters, both to Warhurst and to Lyonsford. Had you come to Clydon as I requested, you might have agreed to my proposal, and I would be wed to you now instead of your brother. But I was pressed for time, you see, and needed a husband right quickly. I knew not where you were and could not wait indefinitely to hear from you. So when I met Ranulf last week and found that he would suit me as well, I put my proposal to him."

  She had rendered Richard speechless for the mo­ment. Not so Hugh. "You actually wanted Richard?"

  "Why does that surprise you, my lord? He has been a good neighbor to us, my father approved of him, and I thought we would deal well together."

  "Then why could you not wait?" Richard burst out. "Or give me an indication of why you were try­ing to reach me?"

  One sable brow rose inquiringly. "I assumed my letters never reached you, Richard. Do you tell me now they did, but you simply ignored them?"

  "Nay, nay, I did not mean to imply—I have been traveling a great deal—"

  "Well, it does not matter now, does it?" she cut in silkily. "I am well satisfied with the husband I have. And he has already proved how capable he is at defending Clydon. Tis how we met, you know? He arrived here in time to rout a despicable band of mis­creants who dared attack us. He has also sworn to run the villeins to ground as a warning to others who still might think Clydon without a new lord. I told him 'twas unnecessary, but he was a mercenary for many years, and you know how they love fighting and kill­ing, and generally making war."

  "I am not so bloodthirsty as all that, lady," Ranulf protested gruffly, though his eyes were laughing at her.

  "Well, of course you are not/' Reina agreed, and then saw her chance for the crowning touch in the bit of fluff twining about his feet. She stooped down to pick up her nemesis. "No man can be all bad who would keep a scrawny, ugly thing like this for pet, and even give it the esteemed name of—"

  "Reina!"

  His warning came too late, though she would not have heeded it anyway. "—Lady Ella," she finished with a sweetly innocent expression that earned her a fierce glower from her husband.

  It was all Hugh could do to keep from laughing, but once again furious color rushed to Richard's face. "Lady Ella? You named your cat after my mother?" he asked in disbelief, and then in outrage, "You named your cat after my—''

  "Whatever are you shouting about, Richard?" Reina cut in sternly. "You cannot think your brother would be so currish as that."

  He did not answer her, but turned his fury on his father. "Will you let him insult her like that? She was your . . ."

  "My what?" Hugh prompted when he did not fin­ish, and then he shook his head in disgust. "Nay, we both know what she was, and she has not exactly endeared herself to me over the years, Richard, and well you know it. As it happens, I have several bitches in my kennel by the same name, so do not expect me to upbraid a man whose humor is so like my own."

  "My uncle will hear of this!" was all Richard could think to say after that.

  "Oh, for Christ's sake, Richard—" Hugh began in exasperation but ended with a sigh as the boy stalked off. He looked apologetically at Ranulf. "I had best go after him to calm him down. He always was a hothead, but what can you expect after he has been raised by those infuriating relatives of his?"

  "Much more—" Reina started, then gasped as her bottom was pinched.

  "Go ahead, my lord," Ranulf said, even as Reina turned around to glare at him. The byplay was not lost on Hugh, so Ranulf added, "My lady does not know when to quit while she is ahead."

  Hugh nodded with a grin. Reina barely waited until he was out of hearing ere she hissed, "Why did you stop me, Ranulf?"

  "What you would have said cannot be supported."

  "Then you have not sent a man to Warhurst yet?"

  "Nay, and I will not."

  "Will—but why?" she cried. "Did you not see the look on Richard's face when I mentioned you would hunt down the villeins who attacked Clydon? He is guilty!"

  "So he is."

  "And your father must be told."

  "Not by me, lady."

  She stared at him incredulously. "Why? Because he
is your brother?"

  "Exactly. A brother I have resented most of my life, and now—now I do not know what I feel other than contempt, but I will not be the one to carry tales to my father of him.''

  "Of all the lackwitted . . . Very well, I will send a man to Warhurst. / at least will not be accused of spite, though you do your father a disservice to as­sume he would think mat of you."

  "You will stay out of it, Reina, and I mean that," Ranulf said coldly. "I will attend to the matter in my own way once my father is gone."

  ' 'But he needs be told!''

  "Not by us!"

  Chapter Forty-one

  Reina thought about it. She really did. And she came that close to defying Ranulf and doing as she thought best. But then she remembered how deadly serious had been his order not to interfere, and she decided it would behoove her to obey her husband in this in­stance. She had to begin trusting in his judgment at some time anyway, and now seemed a likely time to start. As it happened, she had reason to be thankful for that decision, for the matter resolved itself, and right quickly.

  When Hugh could not catch up with Richard in time to speak with him, he determined to follow him to Warhurst, sending a message up to Ranulf that he would return later. 'Twas much later when he did. The hall was quiet, so he was taken straight up to the chamber prepared for him. Reina had food warming at the hearth, where a small fire had been laid to also heat water for a bath. The man was tired, but not only from fatigue. One look at him was enough for her to realize he had learned the truth about Richard for himself. The townspeople had, in fact, converged on him with their complaints, laments, and charges of tyranny as soon as he passed through the gates.

  "This is Ella's doing," Hugh said after he had re­peated some of the outlandish things he had been told. "She would not wed me, thank God, but she would not let me have the boy either. She wanted him raised at court, as she had been."

  Reina had intended to just sit by and listen, to let Ranulf and his father work this out between them­selves, but when Ranulf made no comment to this, her curiosity could not stand it. "I thought you said Richard was raised by his mother's family, my lord."

  "He was. Ah, I see your confusion. Did I neglect to mention Ella is a Plantagenet? From the wrong side of the blanket, of course."

  Reina's mouth dropped open. Ranulf did not even blink. He obviously had known this from the time he first learned of his half brother.

  "One of Henry's?" she asked when she found her voice.

  "Just so. And now you know why my father was so pleased by the association. But the uncle Richard mentioned is not his namesake. King Richard barely knows him. "Iwas Prince John who took an interest in the boy, more's the pity. And you can see where that influence has led him."

  "But what if he speaks to John as he said?"

  Hugh gave a derisive snort. "John is too busy with his machinations to wrest the crown from Richard. It has been his obsession since their father died. Think you he would really care about some harmless insult to a bastard sister? Nay, lady, my younger son likes to think he has influence at court, but in truth, he does not, nor does his mother any longer. The man she wed might once have held power, but he lost it when Richard Lion-Heart became king. What my son has, he has from me."

  "What will you—what can you do, then? Warhurst is his by your own generosity."

  "Nay, not quite. Unlike Farring Cross, which was given outright, Warhurst still belongs to Lyonsford, and will until my death. My mistake was in allocating control of it to Richard, with the hope that the re­sponsibility would help develop a more honorable character, or at least some integrity. Instead he cor­rupts the steward I sent to guide him, and emulates his all-powerful relations to the worst extent."

  "But what of the castellan, Chaucer? We have dealt with him."

  Hugh shook his head. "Chaucer was my steward, Lady Reina. Richard was castellan."

  "Why, that liar!" Reina said indignantly. "He had everyone in the area believing him Lord of War­hurst."

  Ranulf chuckled at her rancor. "Come now, lady, you were befooled by an expert who learned from the best deceivers in the land. 'Tis no fault of your own that you could not see through his duplicity.''

  "That is easy for you to say," she retorted. "You did not almost marry him!"

  Ranulf grinned. "I should hope not."

  "At any rate," Hugh was quick to intervene, "you will have no more trouble from my younger son, lady." And then he could not help a grin of his own. "I cannot guarantee the same of this one, however. Richard is even now being escorted to a cousin of mine in Ireland who has no tolerance for dishonesty. A few years there should turn him about, or so I can only hope."

  "He actually agreed to go?"

  "I did not ask," Hugh replied baldly.

  "Oh—well, that settles that, except for—"

  "That settles everything, Reina," Ranulf cut in sharply. "Get you to bed now. I will join you anon."

  Her lips tightened. She was ready for battle at be­ing summarily dismissed. The man really must learn I some manners. But suddenly she remembered what ' she had just barely escaped that morning and thought better of provoking him anymore today.

  Still, she had had a tiny devil inside her the entire day, and 'twas that wicked creature that prompted her to retort as she crossed to the door: "You need not hurry on my account, my lord. I am like to be fast asleep."

  "Nay, you will not be, for we still have unfinished business, if you will recall."

  Her mouth opened, then abruptly shut. Nay, he could not mean that. Not that.

  He did mean it. No sooner did he enter their bed­chamber than Ranulf asked, "Have you dreaded this moment, lady? Nay, there is no need to answer. Your behavior this day speaks for itself. But you have con­cluded wrongly, for whatever reason."

  Reina sat on a stool by the hearth, where she had been combing her hair. Ranulf crossed to the bed and took up the exact same position on it he had assumed that morn. She could do no more than stare at him in total dismay.

  "Come, Reina," he said in the most casual tone. "This will not take long."

  Oh, just like that? The lout, the brute! How dared he be so calm about it?

  "And if I refuse?"

  "Then 'twill just take longer—much longer."

  He was not counting the time he would have to chase her about the room, she was sure. "If I had let you have your way this morn, you would not now be reconciled with your father," she said bitterly. "Does that count for naught?"

  "The means do not justify the end, Reina. You totally ignored my wishes and forced me to accept yours. What we do here is assure that never happens again."

  "What you do here is barbaric!"

  "Did I fetch a whip, lady, that would be barbaric."

  He came to his feet as he said it, and Reina jumped to hers also. When he did not come after her, how­ever, she realized he was still giving her a chance to make this easier on herself. Did she want a worse punishment just for the sake of a little, useless resis­tance?

  Reina forced herself to close the distance, stopping before him with bowed head. Her stomach was queasy with dread, her heart pounding. It did not feel right, this weak submission, but what else could she do? A wife simply did not go against her husband, taunting him and provoking him until she had her way. And this husband was going to make sure she remembered that, rot his inflexible stubbornness.

  "A wise decision," he said as he sat down again and drew her onto his lap. "You may retain the robe you are wearing. 'Twill be a simple matter to lift it out of the way."

  She had the feeling he said that only to increase her distress and humiliation, and it worked. That he was not being rough with her, or sharp in his tone, only seemed to make it worse. His voice was husky, his hands gentle as he turned her over so that she rested across his thighs. Reina dropped her head down to hide her face, and placed one hand against the bed, the other on his left knee. Did she feel the need to push herself out of this horrible position, she would h
ave the leverage. Or so she thought. His left hand, coming to rest in the center of her back with a subtle pressure, seemed to say otherwise.

  Alarm bells of a different sort went off in her head when he began to raise her robe. He did it by setting his hand on the back of her calf and slowly gliding that hand up her leg, the robe perforce coming with it. "Iwas a caress, plain and simple, and it gave her the strangest sensations. Her body no longer knew what to anticipate, pain or pleasure. Her mind was reeling with the same confusion. Was this a punish­ment?

  Soon the robe was gathered at her waist, his hand removed, and Reina braced herself, her eyes squeezed shut. Her face burned to have her bottom bared to him. Her heart was now racing. Only he did nothing immediately, and the suspense was terrible, the wait worse than aught that he could do by way of punish­ment.

  When the smack finally came, 'twas almost anti-climactic. Almost, but not entirely. Hot and stinging, it brought a gasp from her that was only half surprise, and a tensing of her muscles to receive another. But there was no other, only his voice coming to her softly.

  "In case you wondered, little Reina, that was the extent of the punishment I intended to give you when I brought you up here this morn." Her reaction was immediate, every muscle relaxing in relief. "But while I had you in this convenient position, I meant to do this." Her eyes flew open when she felt a kiss on the reddened imprint left by his hand. "And this.'" Reina sucked in her breath as his fingers slid inside her body with no difficulty at all. This was what that other caress had prepared her for, and she had no resistance against the heat that flooded her. "Of course, I am forgetting that you warned me not to touch you afterward, something about not forgiving me." He paused, his fingers tormenting her. "Is that right?"

  Reina was throbbing, on fire, could barely speak. "Mayhap ... I was a bit ... hasty."

  "Or mayhap it no longer matters?" His fingers brought forth another gasp. "Does it?"

  "Nay."

 

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