Chapter Twenty-eight

T he day was humid after the morning rain, but that did not stop children from running through the village in play. Women brought their chores outside of their houses, converging under shaded oaks to gossip as they worked. Few men were about at this time of day when there were fields to tend or ditches to dig, either their own or the lords’. Those present were busy at some labor, repairing plows or other tools, one leading a pair of oxen back to the fields, several men hauling new thatch up to a roof, one gangly fellow chasing a goat through the parish yard. Even the old and lame remained useful, watching the younger children, feeding and collecting eggs from the chickens that scratched in each yard, or working in the small vegetable patches behind each house.

It was the first Ranulf had been there since the wedding, and all labor came to a temporary halt when he was noticed walking down the center street, Lady Ella perched on his shoulder. Only one daring soul called out a greeting. Most were leery of the new lord, wondering what he was doing there when ’twas the bailiff they always dealt with. From longtime experience, it never boded well when a lord showed up. But when he singled no one out for questioning or punishment, they ignored him, or seemed to.

Ranulf was not really sure what he was doing there himself. He had had a vague notion and had acted on it without really thinking it out. One thing he had not considered was the impression it would give when he entered Red Alma’s hut.

The place was easy to find from the directions he had from one of his men who had already been there. Two geese were making a honking racket mating in the front yard, ironically appropriate for this residence. The door was open in invitation. A skinny razor-backed hog ran squealing out of it with a wooden bowl sailing after it just before Ranulf ducked down to enter.

“If you come on business, shut the door—if not, we will need the light.”

It took him a moment to locate the voice, for the door was the only source of light, and the house was bigger than it looked from outside. Red Alma was changing the linen on a sturdy-looking bed up against the wall on one side of the room. On the other side was tied a cow, placidly chewing on the rushes covering the beaten earth floor. Little luxuries abounded, the fine linen and curtains on the bed, pottery ware hanging on the walls with brass pots, sweet beeswax candles instead of pungent tallow, the aroma of venison stewing in a pot over the open hearth in the middle of the room, venison he recalled being served last eventide in the hall and obviously finding its way here in payment of services rendered.

Ranulf did not shut the door. Red Alma had heard him enter but had not seen who he was yet. It took another moment ere curiosity turned her about to face him. Even then, with the light behind him, she did not recognize him at first. ’Twas his height that did it, making her pale in horror.

“God save me, not you!” she gasped, then paled even more. “Oh—I mean—please, my lord. The lady has been good to me. She rarely scolds, she brings me special salves, she—”

“Why do you mention her?”

“She—she will hate me does she learn you have come to me.”

“Why?” When she just stared at him, Ranulf grunted. “Nay, I did not come for that, and she would have no reason to think it.”

This frightened the woman even more. She stumbled to the trestle table and collapsed on the bench there. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table.

“You mean to put me out?”

“What?” He frowned, and then, “Do not be silly, woman. Your services are as useful as any other villein’s. ’Tis advice I want from you.”

“Advice?” she repeated dumbly.

“Aye.” He came forward, removing his gauntlets to tuck into his belt. Lady Ella jumped to the table when he reached it. “More particularly, your knowledge of women.”

The smile came slowly, but was brilliant when completed. “Of course! Anything, my lord, anything! Whatever I can tell you, you have only to ask.”

“How can I pleasure my wife without hurting her?”

He sat down on the bench next to her. Lady Ella came instantly to be petted. He did not notice Red Alma’s eyes round on him in astonishment.

“You hurt her?”

“Not yet—at least I do not think so. But if I touch her as I want, I fear I will. I seem to have lost what control I ever had of my passion since I met her.”

“Why do you think you would hurt her?”

He held up his hands, frowning at them. “How can I not with these? They are used to large, strapping wenches who do not flinch from a too rough caress. How can they not hurt a woman as tiny and delicate as my lady is?”

Those hands slammed down on the table with that question. The cat was startled, jumping back to his shoulder. He pulled her down to his chest to calm her. Red Alma stared at his hands stroking the cat.

“The cat belongs to you, my lord?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Aye.”

“I can see you are fond of it. I had one myself once that I had strong feelings for. I loved that cat so much, sometimes I wanted to just squeeze it, to show it how much I cared for it. Do you sometimes feel that way?”

He smiled, scratching the cat behind its pointy ears. “Aye, often.”

“But you do not give in to the urge?”

“Of course not. ’Twould kill it.”

“Or badly hurt it.”

He frowned again. “What has this to do with what I asked you?”

“If you can be gentle with a cat, because you know that to be otherwise will hurt it, do you not think ’twould be the same with your wife?”

“You compare my wife to a cat?”

“Nay, not at all,” she rushed to assure him. “I do merely point out that those hands you fear will hurt the lady do not hurt the cat, a much smaller creature.”

“I am not beset with lust for my cat,” he grumbled.

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “Of course you are not. What I am trying to suggest is, ’twas not in your mind that you could hurt those other women you are used to, any more than ’twould be in your mind that you could hurt a dog or a horse with a too sharp pat of affection. But you know you could hurt your cat. The thought is there, even when you are not thinking about it. ’Tis the same with the lady. You know she is different from those others, that you must be more careful of your strength when you touch her. Even should you lose control in your passion, that thought will be there to temper your strength and protect the lady.”

“How can it be? I tell you, I have never known such overwhelming lust as has plagued me since meeting her. It does not even matter where we are. Once it takes me, there is no stopping it, nor holding it back. There are no thoughts of any kind, only this driving need to possess her.”

“I see,” Red Alma said.

She wondered if he had considered that he might be in love with his wife. She doubted it, and she was not fool enough to suggest it. But if he would not believe ’twas possible to restrain himself in the throes of passion, then how could she help him, or, more to the point, help the lady?

“This puts a different face on the matter,” she continued, eyeing his hands again. “The lady might be small and delicate, however, she is still a woman, and we women have more strength and endurance than you men give us credit for. Mayhap your touch would not hurt her at all.”

“I do not care to cause her pain to find out.”

“Then show me. I think I can fairly judge what a woman can withstand.”

At his doubtful look, she smiled to encourage him, though looking at the size of his hands, she wished she had kept her mouth shut. ’Twas a risk, too, that he might not stop once he started. But how else could she ease his concern? That he had this concern was a wonder, and for the lady never to know the pleasure of his caress would be a shame.

“I do not mean to entice you, my lord. Never that. ’Tis no more than a test, and only to determine the strength of your touch—no more than that.”

“I understand that,” he grunted. “But you are in nowise my lady’s small size.”

She had to grin. “A breast is a breast. Big or small, it feels the same pain or pleasure. Touch mine as is your custom, and I can—” He did before she finished, and she could not help flinching. “I see what you mean, my lord. You do have a strong grip,” she was forced to admit, then dared to add what she had told many a knight. “But a breast is not a sword hilt. It will not fall from your hand do you hold it light…oh, God, your lady!”

“What?”

He turned to see his wife framed in the open doorway, her basket of medicinal potions in her hand. But no sooner did he see her than she was gone.

“You must go after her and explain!” Red Alma cried.

“What for? Do I go after her, I am like to tumble her in the woods again, and she does not like that very much.”

Red Alma stared at him aghast, distracted for a moment by that piece of news. “But she will think—”

“Do not be silly, woman,” he cut her off. “I told you she would have no reason to think that. She does not deny me even if she does not like it, so what need have I of other women?”

Alma did not tell him that most men would go to another woman for better sport if their wives so disliked coupling with them. But then, too, those particular wives sent their husbands off with their blessings. And his total lack of concern did ease her fears. Mayhap the Lady Reina would be grateful to her. And if she was not, Alma could see to it that she was—indirectly.

“My lord, I fear I have gone about this in the wrong way. You asked how you might pleasure your lady without hurting her, and there is a way, something I have overlooked. Mayhap if you begin slowly. Do not touch her with your hands at first. Use your lips and tongue instead.”

“’Twould not be the same.”

“Why not? You can touch her with your mouth anywhere you would touch her with your hands.”

“Anywhere?”

“Aye.”

“ Anywhere? ”

Red Alma chuckled, gleaning his thoughts. “Aye, there too. I know most men do not think of that, but those few that do find their own pleasure in it. Of course she is like to protest, thinking it strange. But do you insist, she will not only like it, she can be brought to her full pleasure that way.”

“How is that possible?”

Red Alma blushed, for the first time in many a long year. “You will have to trust me, my lord, that it can happen. And in this way, there is no hurry in learning what caresses will please her and how gentle you needs be. There will be time and plenty for that as you come to know her better.”

He did not question her further, leaving a silver coin on the table that was more money than she had ever seen, with the promise it would be doubled had she spoken true. Whether she had spoken true depended on the lady. Some women would object violently to what she had suggested, and a man was not likely to insist very long in that case. But the new lord did not seem a man to give up easily. Far from it. He was determined to see his lady pleasured whether she liked it or not. What Alma would not give to be a flea in their bed tonight.