She threw off the hand he moved to her shoulder. “Do not touch me! I am so furious, all I want to do is hit you!”
“Then hit me.”
“Do not tempt me, Ranulf.”
“Nay, I mean it. If you will not let me try again, then what better way to ease your anger. Go ahead, little general. You cannot hurt me.”
She certainly tried. She pounded on his chest and belly until her fists were sore and there was no strength left in her arms to push him away when he pulled her down to lie close to his body.
“Do you feel better now?”
“Nay,” she murmured stubbornly.
He chuckled. “Was it the torn chemise?”
“Ohh!”
He laughed outright. “You are so easy to rile, wife. And now that you have worn yourself out, ’twould also be easy for me to—”
“Do not!”
She could feel his shoulder shrug under her head. “A man is not like to argue when he is already sated, though you cannot expect the same when he is not.”
“That issoreassuring.”
“You dare much with my hand so near your backside, lady.” A yawn ruined the effect of that threat.
Reina snorted. “That might be more gratifying than what you—”
“Finish that thought, and you will regret it.” This threat was much more effective, particularly accompanied by his hand moving to the curve of her buttocks. “You struck the bargain, and I have upheld my end of it. If you have changed your mind and would prefer that I lust after someone else, do you say so now.”
He held his breath, waiting for her answer. He had not meant to give her an out like that, and did not know what he would do if she took it. But she said naught, and he did not press his luck by saying any more.
Reina held her breath, too, and for the same reason, hoping he would not press her for an answer her pride would dictate.
Only after he was asleep did she realize that no answer was all the answer he needed.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The day was humid after the morning rain, but that did not stop children from running through the village in play. Women brought their chores outside of their houses, converging under shaded oaks to gossip as they worked. Few men were about at this time of day when there were fields to tend or ditches to dig, either their own or the lords’. Those present were busy at some labor, repairing plows or other tools, one leading a pair of oxen back to the fields, several men hauling new thatch up to a roof, one gangly fellow chasing a goat through the parish yard. Even the old and lame remained useful, watching the younger children, feeding and collecting eggs from the chickens that scratched in each yard, or working in the small vegetable patches behind each house.
It was the first Ranulf had been there since the wedding, and all labor came to a temporary halt when he was noticed walking down the center street, Lady Ella perched on his shoulder. Only one daring soul called out a greeting. Most were leery of the new lord, wondering what he was doing there when ’twas the bailiff they always dealt with. From longtime experience, it never boded well when a lord showed up. But when he singled no one out for questioning or punishment, they ignored him, or seemed to.
Ranulf was not really sure what he was doing there himself. He had had a vague notion and had acted on it without really thinking it out. One thing he had not considered was the impression it would give when he entered Red Alma’s hut.
The place was easy to find from the directions he had from one of his men who had already been there. Two geese were making a honking racket mating in the front yard, ironically appropriate for this residence. The door was open in invitation. A skinny razor-backed hog ran squealing out of it with a wooden bowl sailing after it just before Ranulf ducked down to enter.
“If you come on business, shut the door—if not, we will need the light.”
It took him a moment to locate the voice, for the door was the only source of light, and the house was bigger than it looked from outside. Red Alma was changing the linen on a sturdy-looking bed up against the wall on one side of the room. On the other side was tied a cow, placidly chewing on the rushes covering the beaten earth floor. Little luxuries abounded, the fine linen and curtains on the bed, pottery ware hanging on the walls with brass pots, sweet beeswax candles instead of pungent tallow, the aroma of venison stewing in a pot over the open hearth in the middle of the room, venison he recalled being served last eventide in the hall and obviously finding its way here in payment of services rendered.
Ranulf did not shut the door. Red Alma had heard him enter but had not seen who he was yet. It took another moment ere curiosity turned her about to face him. Even then, with the light behind him, she did not recognize him at first. ’Twas his height that did it, making her pale in horror.
“God save me, not you!” she gasped, then paled even more. “Oh—I mean—please, my lord. The lady has been good to me. She rarely scolds, she brings me special salves, she—”
“Why do you mention her?”
“She—she will hate me does she learn you have come to me.”
