Chapter Sixteen

R eina moved carefully in taking inventory ere she got up, but she was not really battered. Her lips were a mite tender, and there was a definite soreness between her legs, but naught had been broken when Ranulf had collapsed on her for those few moments after he reached his pleasure.

But she had been misled. Wenda said it was wonderful. Eadwina must think so, too, to like doing it so often. Reina would not call what she had experienced wonderful, but it certainly was not as terrible as she had thought it would be with a giant. With the rending of her maidenhead behind her, she supposed she had naught left to fear from this business of coupling, but there was naught to recommend it either.

She dressed quickly while her husband slept on. Staring at him in that helpless state was not conducive to clear thinking, and she had much to consider, particularly what she would tell Lord Simon, who was likely to be at Clydon when they returned.

It was the stirrings of the camp that had woken her, and stepping outside the tent, she saw there was activity everywhere as nigh a hundred men broke their fast and prepared for another day’s march. She found some bushes to relieve herself whilst no one was paying attention, and when she returned, Lanzo approached her with a cup of ale and a chunk of day-old bread.

She thanked the boy but offered him no smile, and he quickly retreated. He might be learning skillful arms under Ranulf’s tutelage, but knightly courtesies were sadly lacking. It would do no harm for either squire to think she was still displeased with him for his part in her abduction. Both must become aware that the arts of warfare were not all that made a knight. The social skills and graces must be learned, as well as the courtesies due a lady, especially the treatment of a lady at all times. Those courtesies were due even during an abduction, but they had not been accorded her.

She was approached again, this time by Ranulf’s fickle cat, who once again rubbed up against Reina’s legs. “So, ’tis to be that way, is it?” Reina frowned down at the animal. “Think you I am not wise to your ploys?”

She got a meow in answer; then the creature bounded off toward Lanzo, who had just set down a tin of scraps for it. Reina shook her head, not sure whether she wanted to play silly games with a cat. She supposed she might have to, if her husband intended to bring the animal home with them.

She then heard rumblings from the tent and returned to it. Ranulf squinted up at her as she opened the flap, letting in the bright sunshine of a beautiful spring morn.

“Where is Lady Ella?” he asked in a grouchy tone.

Reina stiffened. “I was not aware there was another lady in camp.”

“My cat,” he clarified.

“Oh,” Reina said dumbly, then, “You named your cat Lady Ella?”

“Aye.”

Reina was treated to the first really pleasant expression she had seen on her husband. Whether it could actually be termed a smile, she was not sure, but ’twas devastating to behold.

“Her namesake is the cleverest cat I know,” he continued. “So it suited.”

She now had to wonder who this namesake Ella was, but she was not about to ask him. He obviously did not think highly of her.

“Your Ella—”

“Lady Ella—”

“ Lady Ella is breaking her fast,” Reina gritted out. She was insulted to give that scrawny creature a title, her title, but was not ready to have her first argument with her new husband. “Do you wish me to summon your squire so you may—”

“Not yet.”

He sat up as he interrupted her, so that the blanket fell to his lap. Reina looked away. That wide expanse of golden chest was like a magnet for her eyes, but she staunchly resisted the pull.

“Take off your clothes.”

Her eyes flew back to him, wide in disbelief. “I did not hear you aright.”

“Aye, you did.” His tone was mellow for all its deepness. “I wish to know if I was dreaming last eventide, if I really did bed you.”

“You have only to look beside you at the sheets to see that you did indeed bed me.”

He did, and swore at the size of the bloodstain there. “Christ’s toes, have I killed you?”

“Hardly,” Reina replied, bringing those violet eyes back to her. “Do I look dead?”

That brought a frown. “What you look like is the lady I wed. What I want to know is if I dreamed what you look like beneath those clothes. Do you get them off and right quickly, or I will—”

“Stay where you are!” she ordered in her most authoritative voice when he threw back the blanket. It was an effort to keep her eyes on his face, but she managed. “Before you get more silly with this notion of yours, recall what must be done today. If we do not ride, and soon, leaving the foot soldiers to follow at their own pace, we will not reach Clydon while ’tis still light enough for me to be easily recognized. I will have enough trouble explaining to Lord Simon, who is like to be there, why I wed the very man who made off with me. I do not also want trouble getting into my own castle just because you chose to dally this morn and we do not arrive before dark.”

He said nothing for several long moments, just stared at her. Then he finally shrugged. “Very well, I suppose it can wait until this eventide.”

That is what he thinks, Reina said to herself as she escaped the tent with relief. She had every intention of doing as she had originally planned and sleeping in her own chamber until the second wedding. Until Sir Henry came and accepted Ranulf’s fealty to Shefford, she did not consider herself truly wed, bedding or not.

As it happened, Reina changed her mind about what she would tell Simon Fitz Osbern and her other vassals. She told Ranulf her reasons as she rode before him on his huge destrier, denied her own horse because he did not trust her yet. He wanted her within reach in case she tried turning her people against him. And since he would be returning to Clydon with only his men who were mounted, she did not try to convince him his fears were groundless. He would have to see for himself that she was now committed to their marriage and had no plans for doing away with him.

But as for her vassals, she made Ranulf see that it would be easier to convince them that marriage to him was what she wanted if they thought it had not been done yet. To say she had willingly married him so quickly would be to cast doubt on her willingness with the deed done and too late to rectify. She wanted her vassals to accept him without reservation, and they were more apt to do that if she informed them Ranulf was the man she wanted to marry, then proceeded to do so.

He agreed, if grudgingly, but of course to his way of thinking, he had the copies of the marriage contract to produce if she had tried anything underhanded. He had to tell his men, all of whom knew she had spent the night in his tent, but they none of them objected to pretending the wedding had not yet taken place.

Reina hoped she had every probability covered, but she could not be sure. It was not easy to think clearly with those thick, hard arms on either side of her, and then, too, she was still shaken and confused from the morning’s incident.

She could not reason why it would now matter to her husband what she looked like naked. It was not as if he still had the option to repudiate her if he found her body unacceptable. That chance was lost when he took her maidenhead. So why embarrass her by making her disrobe? Did he like what he had seen? Was he appalled? Did he just want verification, or did he feel annoyed that he simply could not remember?

That he was not sure if he had dreamed his taking of her or not was annoying to her , as well as insulting. It might not have been pleasant to her, but she would like to feel she had shared the experience. Obviously she had not. If she had known Ranulf was so sotted with drink he knew not what he was doing, mayhap she could have put him off—or mayhap not. Yet ’twas done, too late to speculate over. All she could do was brood about it, and make sure he was not drunk the next time.