“I would be taking it off him, not putting it on.”
“You will be sorry if he takes after my William and decides to sleep in his.” That from Lady Margaret.
“If he is not used to wearing one, why tamper with a good thing?”
What they did not seem to realize, and Reina was not about to tell, was that having a man with a body like Ranulf’s parading around the bedchamber in the altogether played hell on a woman’s equilibrium, at least on hers. She did silly things when he was naked, like stare with brazen discourtesy, or accuse a poor cat of being spiteful. Before long she would succumb to the sensual urges all that golden skin manifested in her, to touch him, caress him, taste him, whether he bade her to or not. What would he think of her then? After all, his frequent bedding of her now was no more than a fulfillment of their bargain. Once she was with child, it would end.
Putting him into a bedrobe now was a safeguard to temptation. It assured that he would not think her pining away for loss of his body later on. If he had gone on as he had to begin with, there would have been no doubt of that. But his new techniques had gotten to her.Jesú, how they had gotten to her. And he knew it. He was also sweetly endearing in his delight over this great feat, a typical male reaction, she supposed, like a little boy winning his first victory against insurmountable odds. So it was up to her to make him believe she was still basically indifferent. She was going to come out of this with her pride, if naught else.
Reina draped the finished garment over her arm to take to her chamber. She would leave it on the bed for Ranulf to find. Hopefully he would feel obliged to wear it simply because ’twas made for him. If not, she would have to see about making the chamber drafty by removing some of the wall coverings. A little cold would curb his lack of modesty if naught else would.
“I would reconsider were I you,” Dame Hilary called out in a singsong voice, setting the younger ladies to giggling.
Reina smiled despite herself. Were the circumstances of her marriage different, she would indeed reconsider But she was not likely to forget that Ranulf had practically had to have his arm twisted ere he would agree to wed her. He might have new loverlike skills that he was inordinately proud of, but he would no doubt prefer to practice them on someone else.
“If you must give it him, lose your own,” Florette suggested, straight-faced. “That will assure he will not wear his too often.”
They finally managed to get the blush they were after. But before Reina could give a suitable reply, Wenda appeared in the doorway to interrupt the merry laughter. She was out of breath, with a hand to her chest indicating she had come at a run. Nor did she mince words once she had caught her breath.
“My lady, best you come quickly. Lord Ranulf’s knights have returned, and two are grievously wounded.”
There was not a single sound heard in the sewing room after that. Reina’s heart had dropped with those first words, thinking something had happened to Ranulf. Why she should react like that she was not sure, but as her color returned, her mind turned efficient.
“Hilary, Florette, do you both come with me.” She tossed the bedrobe to Wenda. “Put that in my chamber when you fetch my medicaments. Margaret, do you gather what is needful and meet me below. Elaine, send someone after my lord. This will not await his return.”
“Where is he?”
“In the village, I believe.”Making Red Alma rich, she added to herself, for she was not sure Ranulf had been teasing when he had said the woman’s advice was worth her weight in gold. “Florette?”
The young widow had not moved to join her, was in fact still staring ashen-faced at Wenda. “Was—was Sir Walter one of the wounded?”
“I know not, madam,” Wenda replied. “They were still being carried into the keep when Master Gilbert sent me to fetch Lady Reina.”
Florette’s color did not improve with that answer, and Reina had to wonder if the lovely brunette had developed a tender for Walter de Breaute. Obviously, her own problems had made her lose touch with what was going on around her in her own home. She had not even been aware that Ranulf’s men had left Clydon today.
“Florette, mayhap you had best remain here,” Reina suggested, deciding the woman would be more hindrance than help if she did indeed hold Sir Walter in her affections and he was one of the two wounded. “Margaret can—”
“Nay, I need to know.”
“Certainly, but—”
“Please, my lady, I was only surprised,” Florette insisted. “I am fine now.”
Reina hesitated, but finally nodded and left the sewing room.
Even before she reached the hall she could hear Searle of Totnes blasting the men carrying him with invectives. He had taken a pike in his thigh, and although the metal spearhead had been removed, he had links from his mail chausses embedded in the wound that were agitating it with each movement. From the volume of his voice, however, she determined his condition was not as grievous as Wenda had implied. Walter, on the other hand, and he was the other man hurt, was unconscious. His color was not good, and he was bleeding from more than one wound.
Eric Fitzstephen followed behind them, and it was to him Reina directed the questions she needed answering, while the bearers deposited the knights in their separate chambers off the hall. “How long has Sir Walter been bleeding?”
“Too long,” Eric replied, his voice raspy with worry. “He took that gash on his side early in the fray, yet continued to fight. And we were a goodly distance from Clydon when we were set upon.”
“Did he fall from his horse when he received that head wound?” she asked with concern. “I must know if he has aught to tend from within.”
“Nay, no cracked ribs or the like. That wound did not fell him, nor the other. ’Twas the sight of his own blood when ’twas over that—ah—”
“I understand,” Reina cut in, realizing how difficult it was for one knight to claim another had fainted. “Know you who did this?”
“We were on the woods road, my lady.”
