“Mouse? She is more beautiful to me than any woman I know—or have ever known.”
“You do not mean that,” Anne scoffed, and became bolder in her desperation, pressing her hips to his. “You must remember all we—”
Ranulf reacted with violent disgust, shoving her away from him. Then he closed the distance again and caught her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her her head back. At last she saw what he had kept under tight control. Hatred blazed from his eyes and sent a cold shiver down her spine.
“Lady, you killed my daughter,” Ranulf said in a deadly snarl. “You did not even kill her with mercy, but let her starve to death.Thatis all I remember about you. Now get out of my home ere I take the retribution you truly deserve.”
“I cannot leave without my husband!”
“Then best you wake him right quickly—or I will.”
“And what am I to tell him? ’Tis the middle of the night!”
“You will think of something, lady. Lies are your specialty.” With that he walked away and did not look back.
“That miserable whoreson,” Anne hissed, but only after he was gone. “How can he care about a bastard that was not even his own? I should have told him. That would have put the stupid wretch in his place.”
“Aye, you should have,” Walter said quietly behind her. “But I will be sure to correct the matter. ’Twill not take away the pain he has carried all these years, but it might lessen the memory of it some small bit.”
Anne had swung around at his first word and now smiled at him. “Sir Walter, is it not? Were you standing there long?”
“Long enough, lady,” and he too walked away, not hiding his contempt.
She glared after him until she heard the cruel laughter by the health and turned around with a gasp to see her husband sitting up and watching her. “Not having much luck tonight, are you, my dear? I see I should have come to bed sooner, for now I have no bed to go to at all. How do you think I should thank you for that?”
Anne paled and fled the hall to the chamber they had been given, to cower there in a corner. Her husband’s laughter could still be heard, which meant that he had been titillated by what he had heard and seen, which meant that he would want to bed her ere they departed. And that was far worse than any beating that might come later.
Chapter Forty-six
Reina woke to the gentle caress of a hand as it slid the sheet off her body. She sighed dreamily, but then her eyes opened and she gasped until she realized it was her husband and not some other slipped into her bed.
“Jesú, you gave me a start, Ranulf.”
“That is not what I intend to give you, lady,” he said in reply, grinning.
Her cheeks pinkened just the slightest bit. She was still not quite accustomed to his lusty talk, though she surely did not object to it.
“Did you only just return?” ’Twas morn, if the light beyond the bed-curtains was any indication.
“Nay, Walter and I rode in late yestereve. You slept so peacefully, I decided not to wake you.”
As he said this, his hand moved across her navel, reminding her of what rested beneath.
“Do you—notice aught different about me, Ranulf?”
“Not a thing.” His fingers tweaked a breast to watch the nipple come to life.
“Nothing?”
“Nay, why?”
“Never mind,” she said, disgruntled.
“Do you notice aught different about me?” he teased.
“Only that you are missing a few more wits,” she snorted.
Ranulf laughed heartily and pulled her close to hug her. “Why do you not just say it, lady?”
