“Most all?”
“You want my duties, too? If all I am to do is apply my needle to a strip of embroidery, do you say so.”
Ranulf said nothing. Watching her eyes glitter with rancor, her small body trembling with it, brought a hot thickening to his groin. Christ’s toes, not again! But it was there, tearing at his gut, making him forget their conversation, forget the hunt.
The dogs caught the scent just then and the party took off after them, including his wife. Ranulf was filled with an unreasonable rage for a moment, as if he were the stalking animal and had just lost the scent of his own prey. And then it dawned on him that he had nothing to be angry about. What he had been hesitant to accept, even last night, even this morn, crystallized in his mind finally as truth. Reina de Champeney was now Reina Fitz Hugh, his wife.His. She truly belonged to him.
He set spurs to his own horse, but with a different quarry in mind.
Reina had just begun to relax, thinking she had left Ranulf behind and would not have to be bothered by him and his infuriating manner again, at least for a while. She was wrong. His large destrier sidled up next to her palfrey again, but this time ’twas not to ride next to her. Before she realized his intent, Ranulf’s hand reached out and took the reins from her, and her little mare was suddenly following him into the brush.
No one noticed. That was her first thought. The others in their party just rode on, not even looking back. Her second thought made her pale, remembering her defiant attitude just moments ago. She could only imagine that he had taken exception to it and was going to chastise her here and now.
But why? So she had been angry and let him see it. ’Twas not the first time. Was that worth a beating? He might think so, and he now had the right, whereas before he did not. But he did not now either, she reminded herself. He had sworn he would not when they had made contract—but not that he would not blister her backside. He had in fact warned her he would.
She paled even more and leaned forward to see if she could grab the reins back, but just then her horse halted behind his. She held her breath, watching him dismount, too frightened to do the same, to even think of running now.
She found her voice only when his hands gripped her waist. “I did not mean to—”
She got no further in her bid to appease him, for she was dragged off her horse, slammed against his chest, and smothered by his mouth covering hers. Kissing her? Aye, she supposed he might call it that. She was not sure what it was, especially when his tongue stabbed at hers. She tried to push it out of her mouth with her own tongue. That made him groan and squeeze her tighter, strangely not hurting her, stranger still causing a thrill to leap in her breast.
Her legs were not steady when he set her down. Neither was her breathing. And her thoughts had scattered hither and yon. By the time she had them back and in some semblance of order, Ranulf’s mantle was spread on the ground, his sword belt removed, and he was fumbling with the ties of his underclothing.
“What—”
The fierce look in his eyes cut her off. “Are you or are you not my wife?”
That look and tone should have warned her, as challenging as it was, but it did not. She was simply surprised by the question.
“Of course I am your wife. Did I not twice marry you so there would be no doubt?”
“So you did, and so being, I desire use of my wife.”
Her eyes flared in disbelief. “Now?”
He shrugged, though there was nothing nonchalant in his look. “I am young and lusty, which is whatyouinsisted on, is it not?”
“But—”
Again she could not finish the thought, much less any protest. He caught her about the waist with one arm and bore her down to his spread mantle to begin kissing her again. In the back of her mind there was the thought that she still had time to explain reasonably that the Lord and Lady of Clydon did not couple in the woods. He had to stop kissing her to undress her, and she would make him see reason then.
More fool she.
He didnotstop kissing her. He didnotundress her. He did no more than yank off her braies and pull down his own and then he was inside her, riding her with a swift urgency that reached its peak in less than a minute.
Reina felt nothing, andthatmore than anything else let loose her temper when he rolled to her side. “Curse and rot you, Ranulf! You may be used to tossing up the skirts of any serf girl you come across and going right at it, but I will not have it! I am your wife, not some wench you found in a field. Do you want me, you will have the decency to remove your clothes and mine first.”
“If you say so.”
He reached for her skirt and she gasped, scrambling away from him and to her feet. “Notnow, you beef-witted lout! I have had enough of your brutish skills for one day.”
He did not take offense. In fact, he rendered her speechless by laughing. And he was still grinning like a sated mongrel as he put his underclothes back to rights.
“Mayhap it has taken me longer to have it set in my mind that you belong to me,” he told her with that maddening grin, “but you have yourself confirmed it, and I will no longer fight it. ’Tis best you get used to my ways right quickly, for I will have you, will you nill you, whenever ’tis my wont to do so.”
“Anywhere?”
He glanced about at the low bushes surrounding them that were no real concealment and had the audacity to chuckle. “Aye, anywhere. It makes no difference to me.”
