“Why?” When she just stared at him, Ranulf grunted. “Nay, I did not come for that, and she would have no reason to think it.”
This frightened the woman even more. She stumbled to the trestle table and collapsed on the bench there. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table.
“You mean to put me out?”
“What?” He frowned, and then, “Do not be silly, woman. Your services are as useful as any other villein’s. ’Tis advice I want from you.”
“Advice?” she repeated dumbly.
“Aye.” He came forward, removing his gauntlets to tuck into his belt. Lady Ella jumped to the table when he reached it. “More particularly, your knowledge of women.”
The smile came slowly, but was brilliant when completed. “Of course! Anything, my lord, anything! Whatever I can tell you, you have only to ask.”
“How can I pleasure my wife without hurting her?”
He sat down on the bench next to her. Lady Ella came instantly to be petted. He did not notice Red Alma’s eyes round on him in astonishment.
“You hurt her?”
“Not yet—at least I do not think so. But if I touch her as I want, I fear I will. I seem to have lost what control I ever had of my passion since I met her.”
“Why do youthinkyou would hurt her?”
He held up his hands, frowning at them. “How can I not with these? They are used to large, strapping wenches who do not flinch from a too rough caress. How can they not hurt a woman as tiny and delicate as my lady is?”
Those hands slammed down on the table with that question. The cat was startled, jumping back to his shoulder. He pulled her down to his chest to calm her. Red Alma stared at his hands stroking the cat.
“The cat belongs to you, my lord?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Aye.”
“I can see you are fond of it. I had one myself once that I had strong feelings for. I loved that cat so much, sometimes I wanted to just squeeze it, to show it how much I cared for it. Do you sometimes feel that way?”
He smiled, scratching the cat behind its pointy ears. “Aye, often.”
“But you do not give in to the urge?”
“Of course not. ’Twould kill it.”
“Or badly hurt it.”
He frowned again. “What has this to do with what I asked you?”
“If you can be gentle with a cat, because you know that to be otherwise will hurt it, do you not think ’twould be the same with your wife?”
“You compare my wife to a cat?”
“Nay, not at all,” she rushed to assure him. “I do merely point out that those hands you fear will hurt the lady do not hurt the cat, a much smaller creature.”
“I am not beset with lust for my cat,” he grumbled.
She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “Of course you are not. What I am trying to suggest is, ’twas not in your mind that you could hurt those other women you are used to, any more than ’twould be in your mind that you could hurt a dog or a horse with a too sharp pat of affection. But youknowyou could hurt your cat. The thought is there, even when you are not thinking about it. ’Tis the same with the lady. You know she is different from those others, that you must be more careful of your strength when you touch her. Even should you lose control in your passion, that thought will be there to temper your strength and protect the lady.”
“How can it be? I tell you, I have never known such overwhelming lust as has plagued me since meeting her. It does not even matter where we are. Once it takes me, there is no stopping it, nor holding it back. There are no thoughts of any kind, only this driving need to possess her.”
“I see,” Red Alma said.
She wondered if he had considered that he might be in love with his wife. She doubted it, and she was not fool enough to suggest it. But if he would not believe ’twas possible to restrain himself in the throes of passion, then how could she help him, or, more to the point, help the lady?
