“He was my clerk. He did not like the duty I assigned him, but he has been well paid for the risks of soldiering. He has even come to finally enjoy it.”
“So you spied on me?” This from Ranulf, and without much surprise.
“How else was I to know what became of you? I wrote to you after you left Montfort, if you will recall. You admit you at least receivedthoseletters. But still I had no answer from you, and, coupled with your coldness the second time we met, I was finally forced to accept that I was not like to ever hear from you.”
“I was your sin, grown to your image.” The bitterness was back in Ranulf’s tone. “You were naught but ashamed of me.”
“Never that,” Hugh swore. “How could I be ashamed of a son so like myself?” And then in a burst of exasperation, “Sweet Christ, Ranulf, what must I do to convince you that you are dear to me?”
Again Ranulf did not answer. Reina had an answer, but she was likely to be throttled by one or the other of them did she give it. When had that ever stopped her?
“’Twould seem you must beat it into him, my Lord Hugh.”
“Lady,” Hugh growled, “you are being no help to me.”
“Did I say I would help you?” she asked with arched brow. “As I recall, I asked you to leave Clydon ere you caused him any more pain. You were the one who said you could not go with this unsettled. You said you love him, that you have from the day you first saw him and knew him to be yours. Well, you also said that before you leave here he would know it, if you have to beat the truth into him. Your words, my lord, not mine. And ’twould seem that is the only recourse you have left—unless, of course, Ranulf finally has some doubts that what he has believed to be true all these years might not be true. What say you, Ranulf?” She changed the direction of her attack. “Can you believe him? His father is dead and cannot verify what he says, but is Montfort? Or will you question this clerk of his turned soldier? Or will you simply accept his word and the love he seems determined to give you? It might behoove you to try, for he appears to be the one man you cannot be completely assured of besting. ’Twould be a shame were you in no condition to deliver my promised chastisement.”
“A shame, indeed, so do not count on it,” Ranulf said darkly.
Reina shrugged. She had gone this far. She might as well do her worst.
“You have not answered my question, Ranulf, but before you do, you should be aware of something I have noticed that mayhap you have not. This man is very similar to you, and I do not speak now of resemblance. His temperament is the same as yours. He is as stubborn.Jesú, you both even scowl at the same things. Could not your sense of honor also be the same? I also wish to point out that had I not believed you when you told me about Rothwell, we would not now be wed.”
“Christ’s toes!” Ranulf exclaimed. “What has that to do with this?”
“It has to do with trust. I had never heard of Rothwell, nor has he come here to verify what you claimed. I took you at your word without proof that you spoke true. You owe the same trust to your father, especially since most of what he claims can be verified and he knows it, so he would have no reason to lie. And did you not say yourself that your grandfather had never shown you a kindness? It does not take much sense to see that you have unknowingly blamed the wrong man, Ranulf, and this is no time to remain stubborn about it. Do you ask me—”
“No one has asked you!” both men said at once, and with a good deal of exasperation.
Reina grinned, satisfied she had made her point. “True, but you see,” she told both men, “I would not be here to give my opinion were I not awaiting punishment. And I would not be awaiting punishment if I had not forced my husband to see his father. If I am to suffer for arranging this meeting, you can both suffer my opinion.”
“Which we have done, but no longer,” Ranulf rumbled. “Get you gone, lady, now.”
“You have decided to forgive me, then?”
“What I have decided is to let you dread the coming night after all. Go about your duties, Reina. I will attend you later.”
She gave him a sour look ere she stalked to the door. “I always knew you were a dog-hearted clodpate. See if I ever do you another favor!”
There was silence after the door slammed shut. Hugh deliberately avoided Ranulf’s eyes, fearing he would laugh did he witness his son’s chagrin after that set-down. Did he have a sense of humor, it would not matter. But that was one of many things he did not know about his son, he realized. And if the lady had done anyone a favor, ’twas him. He would not like to see her hurt for it.
“Do you intend to beat her?”
“With these hands?” Ranulf snorted. “I mean to lesson her, not kill her. Besides, she has it in her marriage contract that I cannot take my fists to her.”
“The terms of a marriage contract bear little weight in the heat of the moment.”
“I have lived with this strength all my life, my lord. I was afeard to even touch the lady, she is so tiny. There is naught that she could ever say or do to make me forget that, so you need not be concerned for her. She will have no more than the flat of my hand on her backside.”
Hugh chuckled. “A method I have found the need to use on occasion myself.”
“Does it work?”
“Aye, though the result is not always worth the months of regret a woman can make you feel afterward—that is, if you bear feeling for her.”
Ranulf grinned. “Then you might find interesting a suggestion I had from a whore…”
Reina had gone no farther than the antechamber, where she paced in an effort to work off her temper. When she heard the deep laughter, she stopped and relaxed. So her gamble had paid off. She went below smiling, certain she no longer had to worry about any punishments.
