She hauled off and hit him. “Well, I did not know you did! You could have told me!”
“Now who is the lackwit, lady? I tell you every night I take you in my arms. I tell you the only way I know how.”
“Nay, my lord, you just said it more plainly,” she said with tears of happiness in her eyes. “Even if you did shout it at me, ’tis still what I longed to hear.”
“Those words?”
“Aye.”
“But that says so little,” he complained.
“My lord, do I want to hear what a troubadour has to say, I will hire him. From you I only need ‘I love you,’ every so often.”
Ranulf chuckled. “As you wish, little general.”
She drew his head down for a lingering kiss. He had stopped lifting her up to his level when he had nearly dropped her earlier this month in surprise at being nudged by one of his son’s more exuberant kicks.
“Now,” she said with a purr of contentment. “Will you forget about this silly war?”
“Nay.”
“Ranulf!”
“But I still love you,” he offered.
She glared at him furiously ere she stalked off again, this time without coming back.
“She will not stay angry,” Walter said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. “She never does.”
“But I will be gone ere she decides to calm down.” And then Ranulf grinned. “I hate to miss that. She is always so—expressive in her forgiveness.”
Walter hooted. “Someone ought to tell her you said that.”
“Bite your tongue. Do you have her guessing why I so often tease her temper, and I will take my loss out of your hide.”
Chapter Forty-seven
Winter closed in around Clydon with a white blanket of snow that was not likely to melt completely until spring. Reina secretly liked this time of year, even though viands grew stale and moldy, and men’s tempers snapped from inactivity. ’Twas a time when women could do things there was never enough time for otherwise. Tapestries were started and completed ere the season ended, clothes made for the next year’s special occasions, new talents discovered, recipes discussed and experimented with. ’Twas a warm, cozy part of the year with all hearths blazing, a time when relationships developed more strongly. Did a woman want to take the supreme luxury and just lie abed for a day and do naught, she could do that, too.
Reina did that often, simply because her small frame had difficulty carrying so much added weight. Ranulf teased her unmercifully about her new size, insisting he liked it so much he would see to it she was often kept overweight. Surprisingly, he came home more often than she would have expected, considering Sir Henry was still in the field. He showed up for every feast day, and was home for the Twelfth Day celebration to pass out the perquisites, or bonuses, to the manorial servants; the food, clothing, drink, and firewood that were their traditional Christmas due. He stayed that time until Plow Monday, the first Monday after Epiphany, when the villeins raced their plows across the common pasture to determine how many furrows each man could sow that year.
But Ranulf did not arrive for the one holiday she was sure he would not miss, Candlemas, at the start of the second month of the new year. ’Twas now a week after, and Reina was due to have her baby any day, but he had still not shown up. After he had promised he would be there for the birthing, what was she to think except that something dire had happened?
Walter was quick to tell her she was being silly to worry. He had not gone on this campaign with Ranulf, nor did he mind staying behind, being newly wed to Florette. But what did he know of a woman’s fear? And yet, realistically, Reina knew he was right.
Rothwell had scurried home as Ranulf had predicted he would, but that had not been the end of it. Sir Henry had decided he needed lessoning for his audacity and had taken the Shefford army west to besiege Rothwell’s keep, and so it had been under siege these past two months, with very little actual fighting.
Ranulf’s forty days’ service had expired, but what did that matter when a man was enjoying himself? That he had stayed on to fill the ranks had caused another fight between them, which he, of course, won, and she, of course, forgave him for. The lout simply loved a challenge, any challenge, and she would perforce have to get used to that aspect of her life with him. It would become easier as the years passed. There would be times when he would be home so much she was like to wish him gone. And there would be times when he was late again in returning and she would worry herself sick. There would also be the times of loving to make up for it all.
Verily, what did she have to complain about? That Ranulf was not there for the birthing of his first son, who arrived on time and without undue complication? Aye, she would not let him hear the end of that. And yet ’twas forgotten when he entered their chamber a mere hour after the ordeal was over, and came directly to the bed to take her in his arms.
He was contrite and elated all at once, and how could she scold him when he showered her with love? His excuse for being late was a good one. Lord Guy had finally returned to England and had summoned Ranulf to Shefford for their first meeting, which had gone very well. He had even insinuated that he would not take it amiss were he asked to be godfather to this first child of theirs. Reina could only laugh. ’Twas not like her overlord to be subtle about his wishes. Ranulf must have duly impressed him, which meant she had naught else to worry about on that score. Her father’s little deception for her sake would never come to light, and his last wish was fulfilled. She had married the man of her choice, as he had wanted.
Theodric hummed softly as he rocked Guy in his arms. The three-month-old infant was fast asleep, but he was in no hurry to put him down in his bed. Wenda was combing Reina’s hair, still slightly damp from her bath. Theo no longer complained that the girl had usurped his duties, not since he had taken over the care of Guy, whom he adored. He was worse than any mother when it came to fretting over the baby. Reina sometimes thought that he envied her the nursing of him, and would do that, too, if he could.
Lady Ella preened herself in the center of Reina’s bed. Her most recent batch of kittens cavorted on the floor, making Wenda giggle every so often. Reina was amused by them, too. She had not liked it when her nemesis had decided to have this litter under her bed, sneaking into the room to do so. Reina had tried moving them at least into the antechamber, but Lady Ella would cry and scratch at the door until it was opened, then pick up the kitten she had carried there and rush into the room with it. Ranulf had said not a word, leaving the decision to Reina. What decision? The cat had made up its mind and there was naught anyone could do about it.
When the door opened and Ranulf walked in, Reina was delighted. She had thought with Lord Hugh’s arrival this afternoon that Ranulf would not retire until much later. But one look at him staring aghast at Theo holding Guy and she groaned inwardly. That he had not discovered ere now that Theo had taken charge of Guy was due only to Theo’s clever timing.
