“Then why do you mention my family when you know me to be a bastard?”
“I assume that one of your parents must be of rank, or you would not have been trained to knighthood. As it is usually the male who spreads his seed about with so little thought or care, I also assume it is your father who has the rank, not your mother. Am I wrong?”
He was now tight-lipped and frowning again. “Nay, you have that right, too.”
“Is he dead, then?”
“To me he might as well be. I have spoken to him only twice in my entire life, lady. I was nine ere he first deigned to notice me, though he knew about me well enough, for I was born in the demesne village.”
“But he must have acknowledged you, to have had you fostered.”
“That matters not. He has his heir and has no need of me, nor I of him. Even should my half brother die, I would not accept aught from him now. ’Tis too late.”
“Fie on you, sir, to be so bitter,” she dared to admonish him. “Your father could not overlook a legitimate heir to elevate you, and you should not—”
“Did I say there was a legitimate heir, lady? My half brother is a bastard, too, but one younger than me by several years. His good fortune stems from having a mother who was alady. A whore, but still a lady.”
Reina was not sure what to say after that. She should just leave it be but could not, not after he had trusted her with such a confession. It made him seem no longer a stranger, and,Jesú, she actually felt incensed on his behalf.
“I would not call that anywhere near fair, and it seems I must again ask your pardon. You do indeed have reason to be bitter. If a man must choose a natural son to succeed him, it should be no different than if he were choosing among legitimate sons. The oldest inherits by the law. Who is this man?”
Ranulf was taken aback by the heat in her response.Heknew ’twas unfair, but that she should think so was unexpected. A lady, not championing another of her kind?
But he waved her question aside. “It matters not who he is, only that I want him to have naught of yours. Should I die, I want your entire inheritance returned to you, and not just half of what is mine but everything I then possess as well. And I wantthatput in your contract.”
She stared at him wide-eyed with disbelief. “If—if you say so.”
“And you understand that an alliance with me does not bring you aid from anyone other than myself?”
“Aye.” She got her voice back under control. “But only your aid was ever needful. We will have all the additional aid we could need from Shefford.”
Ranulf felt strange, hearing her say “we” like that. He had never been a “we” before, not in his entire life. And she was proving she could be reasonable—at least during this discussion. Of course, he was forgetting the stipulations she still wanted included in the contract; and reminded of that, he picked her up under her arms to bring her face up to a level with his.
“We are agreed now and can finish this business, but do you understand one thing more, little general. You may have protected yourself from ever feeling my fist, but do you ever deserve it, your backside will become acquainted with the palm of my hand. You willnotfeel free to provoke me at your will.”
With that he set her down to drag herbackinto the room for the swearing and the kiss of peace. Peace? Reina wondered if she would ever know that state again.
Chapter Fifteen
Reina found it hard to reconcile being afraid of a man when she had never before been afraid of any man. She had been protected all her life, kept from the harsh realities other women suffered, though not unaware of them. She had been loved and indulged, first by both parents, then even more by her father after her mother died six years ago. She had not even been sent away to foster at Shefford, her mother too fearful of letting her only child out of her sight. She had been taught at home to work with needle and shuttle, to read, write, and speak Latin, French, and even the rarely used English. She knew all things to know about managing a demesne, inside the castle as well as without, even to making financial and legal decisions, though those were most tedious, and she would be the first to admit she was not very good with money.
Certainly she had been afraid before, when her mother died, when her father went crusading, leaving her alone and in control of Clydon with only a few vassals to advise her—when she learned of his death. And when Falkes de Rochefort sent his men to take her, she had been afraid they might succeed, but she had not been afraid of de Rochefort himself. He had not even engendered fear in her the night he sneaked into her chamber to pounce on her with his foul intentions. She had felt outrage then, enough to have him tossed into the moat on his way out.
Of course, if he had managed to get her and somehow force her to wed him, then she might have been afraid of him—enough to kill him. Her father had never liked him, and she trusted his judgment in men, the reason she had not even considered Sir Falkes when he asked to wed her.
But another had got her instead, and this one she did fear, though she did not entertain the thought of killinghim. She would be too afraid to even try—not that she actually wanted to. The fear was there, but it was not complete, and not for the same reason.
Right now it was all-consuming, for she was on her way back to camp and the promised bedding. Aside from that, however, the man deserved the benefit of the doubt. She had agreed to have him. He was not her first or even second choice, but he could possibly have been her third if it had been put to her under different circumstances. After all, Fitz Hugh did have a lot in his favor.
She would certainly never grow tired of looking at him, though she was not silly or foolish enough to let him know how attractive she found him. She had seen him use his sword, and his skill was most impressive, more so if his friend Walter could be believed. He was accustomed to leading men, but not only that, they wanted to be led by him. There were not many men who could inspire loyalty like that. He was young. He was strong. He was kind to animals, as she had seen with the brown cat that rode today perched on his shoulder. And he did not have any other obligations. Both Lord John and Lord Richard would have had to divide their time between her holdings and their own, and even those of their families. That Ranulf would devote himself solely to Clydon made him the better choice, actually.
Aye, there was much in his favor—but much against him, too. Her main and immediate worry was his size, a weapon in itself. Then there was his anger, which she had seen more of than not. And his manner, which was atrocious. The fact that he distrusted and disliked ladies, as Sir Walter claimed, was not going to be easy to deal with either. And he was unpredictable. Who would have thought he would have balked at being given an estate like Clydon?
There was going to be a problem with Theodric, too, unless Ranulf could be talked into forgetting that unfortunate incident between them. And how he would handle her villeins remained to be seen.
What Reina feared, she supposed, aside from his size, was that he would have no care for her feelings. She knew he disliked her. He had already been rough in his treatment of her. That he now had the power to hurt and shame her at his will was shattering to her peace of mind. But again he deserved the benefit of the doubt. She could only hope that marrying him would not be the biggest mistake of her life.
Her horse plodded behind his on returning to camp, neither of them in much hurry now. She had hoped they would spend the night at the abbey, where, if she was going to be doing any screaming, someone who might care would hear it. No such luck there.
