Chapter Twenty-seven

R eina crept quietly into the chamber. A night candle had been left burning, giving her enough light to cross the room to the aumbry. She set her basket of medicaments down there and quickly unfastened her mantle.

Ranulf slept on. She did not like it that he had left the bed curtains open. The slightest noise could wake him. But from what she had seen thus far, he was a sound sleeper.

It had been a relief to be called back to the village, though the reason had given her many hours of worry. The baker’s sister had taken a fall and had begun to miscarry. But working half the night, and using every remedy she could think of, Reina had gotten the danger down to a mere possibility of losing the baby, which the woman was prone to anyway. If she stayed off her feet for a time, until the baby was well set, she still might carry this one to term.

The relief had come from having an excuse to avoid her marriage bed that night, at least until Ranulf was asleep. She still could not believe she had actually told him what she had in their last conversation. After thinking about it, she had been horrified to realize how it must have sounded to him, and only surprised that he had not laughed in her face. He must now think she lusted after him, or at least that she lusted after the pleasure he could give her, which was even worse. Men never doubted their own prowess, so what else was he to think? Certainly not that she found fault with his jump-on, jump-off technique. Oh, curse and rot her loose mouth.

She yanked open the aumbry, then winced at the creak of the hinge. A stirring of the sheets behind her made her quickly tug off her bliaut without bothering with the laces, carelessly tossing it and her mantle into the wardrobe. She considered making a pallet for the rest of the night. She considered curling up right there on the floor where she was. She did not want Ranulf waking, not for any reason, but what excuse could she give come morn if he found her sleeping on the floor?

Her chemise was a tighter fit requiring unlacing. She began to work on the ties in the dim light, but froze after a moment with the sound of Ranulf’s voice.

“Come here, Reina.”

Her heart where her larynx should be made words terribly difficult. “In—in a moment—”

“Come now.”

The order given in that particular tone carried her feet forward. She could only hope he was not completely awake, that he only wanted assurance that she had returned safely, and then he would go back to sleep.

She stopped a few feet from the bed. “Aye?”

She did not even see his hand move. One moment she was being dragged across him, ending up lying flat on her back beside him, and the next, she heard her chemise ripping.

“What—what are you doing? ” she got out, too late. Her shift tore down the middle, too.

“What you requested,” he answered in the most reasonable tone. “You said we should both be naked. I am already in that state. You were taking too long to get there.”

“And that gives you leave to just—”

Her furious question was cut short. She was surprised she had been able to say that much. He had not called her to him for conversation. His mouth moved over hers with a fierce possessiveness, and then so too did his body.

And yet this time was different. His thrusts were not so quick and pounding. There was a languor to his movements, a heady undulation that set off a maelstrom of delicious sensations deep inside Reina. And his lips did not concentrate only on hers, but moved over her face, finally to one ear, and that intensely pleasant feeling sent such a jolt through her, she bucked under him, driving him deeper into her core—which effectively ended his thrusts.

Her eyes flew open as she heard his roar, and she wanted to scream, Not yet , but he was done, and looking down at her now with primal satisfaction in his gaze. That alone gave her the urge to kill him. He had brought her closer than ever this time to what made him roar, only to leave her with that aching frustration gnawing at her gut again, her nerve ends raw, her mind sizzling with impotent fury.

He rolled to his side with a sigh. “I did it again, did I not?”

“Aye, you lummox,” she bit out between clenched teeth. “That you did.”

“I am afraid I was not quite awake. Do you say so, we can try again.”

She threw off the hand he moved to her shoulder. “Do not touch me! I am so furious, all I want to do is hit you!”

“Then hit me.”

“Do not tempt me, Ranulf.”

“Nay, I mean it. If you will not let me try again, then what better way to ease your anger. Go ahead, little general. You cannot hurt me.”

She certainly tried. She pounded on his chest and belly until her fists were sore and there was no strength left in her arms to push him away when he pulled her down to lie close to his body.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Nay,” she murmured stubbornly.

He chuckled. “Was it the torn chemise?”

“Ohh!”

He laughed outright. “You are so easy to rile, wife. And now that you have worn yourself out, ’twould also be easy for me to—”

“Do not!”

She could feel his shoulder shrug under her head. “A man is not like to argue when he is already sated, though you cannot expect the same when he is not.”

“That is so reassuring.”

“You dare much with my hand so near your backside, lady.” A yawn ruined the effect of that threat.

Reina snorted. “That might be more gratifying than what you—”

“Finish that thought, and you will regret it.” This threat was much more effective, particularly accompanied by his hand moving to the curve of her buttocks. “You struck the bargain, and I have upheld my end of it. If you have changed your mind and would prefer that I lust after someone else, do you say so now.”

He held his breath, waiting for her answer. He had not meant to give her an out like that, and did not know what he would do if she took it. But she said naught, and he did not press his luck by saying any more.

Reina held her breath, too, and for the same reason, hoping he would not press her for an answer her pride would dictate.

Only after he was asleep did she realize that no answer was all the answer he needed.