Chapter Thirty-one

I t was rather a shock to wake up from a most pleasant sleep with a cat’s rear end staring her in the face. Reina could not immediately comprehend what she was looking at, but the ghastly smell that assaulted her nostrils a moment later she had no difficulty identifying. She shrieked, leaping out of bed. But when she swung about to glare at the offensive creature reposing on her pillow, she was arrested by the sight of her husband.

Her outraged scream had awakened Ranulf, and with a warrior’s reflexes, he was already standing on the opposite side of the bed with his sword in hand. That he was unable to figure out what had alarmed her was obvious by the questioning look he gave her, one golden brow crooked just so.

Reina’s chagrin did not abate, was considerably added to instead by the fact that they were both standing there naked. Memories of yestereve also crowded into her mind to further vex her. So when he finally asked what had disturbed her, she did not care how foolish her answer might sound. The cat was to blame for this new embarrassment, and the cat would get the blame.

“That feline rodent farted in my face.”

He did not laugh. She almost wished he had, for it might have relieved the tension the absurd situation was building. Instead, he very calmly returned his sword to its scabbard and got back into bed. His lack of any comment at all was enough irritant to prod her temper. That he picked up Lady Ella and began to pet her was the push over the edge.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Well, what? ’Tis a normal occurrence. Animals fart just as we do.”

“ She ”—Reina stabbed a finger at the culprit—“did it apurpose!”

“Ridiculous. Why do you hate cats?”

“I do not hate cats. I love cats. I hate that cat, and I refuse to sleep in the same chamber with her any longer. Either she goes, or I do.”

When he said naught, but simply stared at her as if she had gone mad, Reina stormed out of the room, pausing only long enough to swipe up her bedrobe from where it had been left on the floor. Not until she was out in the passageway did it occur to her that she had nowhere to go. She had already given her old chamber over to Elaine and Alicia to share, and did not care to disturb the other women in their quarters at this early hour either. Nor could she go below dressed as she was. ’Twas only just dawn, but some of the servants would have risen by now.

The torches in the passageway had burned out, and the light coming through the deep window embrasures in the wall was barely discernible. ’Twas even darker in the stairwell, but Reina moved in that direction anyway. The floor was cold, and at least sitting on the stairs she could wrap her feet in her bedrobe. Hopefully no one would be coming up just yet to find her there, nor going down, for she could not think of a single excuse to explain a desire to sit in the dark on cold steps wearing naught but a bedrobe.

After a moment her breathing calmed. It took a bit longer for the turmoil of her thoughts to quiet down, but when they did, she dropped her head to her knees with a groan.

I did not do that. Jesú, tell me I did not say or do any of that .

No divine voice answered, and Reina groaned again. Ranulf would think he had married a crazy woman, and not be far wrong. She had to be crazy to let her temper run amok like that, and for no good reason. Yesterday she had reason, or thought she did. This piece of idiocy had no excuse. So a cat was smart enough to wage a subtle war. No one would believe it. She would doubt it herself had she not seen Lady Ella’s particular style of maneuvering ere this. And… Jesú , she was doing it again, making crazy excuses. No one in his right mind would attribute human motives to a cat.

Reina had to face it. She was jealous of Lady Ella—but with reason. That absurd ultimatum she had given Ranulf proved he cared more for his precious cat than he did for her, for she was the one sitting here on cold steps, while that feline was being cosseted in a warm bed—her bed.

Suddenly Reina started as something brushed against her thigh. Just barely, she saw a small dark shadow move on down the stairs. Lady Ella? But she had closed the door to the antechamber. How, then…?

Reina tensed, her senses finally aware that her husband stood on the step just behind her. Now was the time to apologize, to beg him to forget this morn’s silliness, but no words could get past her mortification. It seemed to be becoming a habit, humiliating herself in his presence, though she could not reason why. But this time was the worst, and she was loath to imagine what he must be thinking right now.

“Do you come back willingly, or do I carry you?”

She stood up and turned to face him. All she saw was his silhouette, no expression to discern his thoughts by. His low-pitched voice gave no clue either.

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly.

“It means I concede, little general. I would prefer it did you try and tolerate Lady Ella, but if you cannot, you cannot. Henceforth she can sleep with Lanzo.”

Reina should have been magnanimous and said she had not been serious, that he could keep his cat wherever he liked. But she had won, and without guilt to aid her. The feeling was worth savoring without concessions.

“Thank you.”

“For what? You left me no choice.”

She smiled to herself, for that was not exactly true. He could just as easily have dragged her back and forced her to accept his will regardless of her feelings on the matter.

“You are not angry?”

He did not answer that, but stepped aside for her to pass. Better she count her blessings and leave the subject be. He had not sounded angry, though by rights he ought to be. Men did not usually like ultimatums of any kind.

She tightened her robe against the chill of the stair well and moved up to his level—and found herself scooped up into his arms. “I thought—”

“Be quiet,” he interrupted. “I had not realized you were barefoot.”

What could she say to that? Her feet were terribly cold. He had had sense enough to put shoes and chausses on to come after her. She had just barely thought to grab her bedrobe. This chivalry on his part was unexpected, but nice. She would savor it, too, while it lasted. Besides, she rather liked being held in his arms.

Lanzo slept on, undisturbed by their comings and goings through the antechamber where he nightly spread his pallet. He was attuned to Ranulf’s voice raised in summons, but Ranulf had not once raised his voice this morn.

The bedchamber had lightened up considerably since Reina had left it, dawn giving way to sunrise. Ranulf did not put her down until he reached the bed, where he could set her. Only then did she glance at his face to determine his mood. His grin was self-explanatory.

“So that is why you are not angry. You found my behavior amusing?”

He sat down next to her but avoided looking at her, staring instead at his feet stretched out before him. “I have had women fight over me before and throw jealous tantrums, but never over my cat.”

“Is that so?” she replied indignantly.

The laughter he had been holding in burst forth. He fell back on the bed with it. He rolled from side to side with it. He roared with it. Reina glanced about for something to hit him with.

“I swear,” he gasped out, clutching his stomach now, but still laughing, “I have never seen…or heard anything so funny…as you accusing a cat…of farting just for your benefit!”

Had she really done that? ’Twas not even logical. Animals could not control such things any more than people could.

“I will allow I may have been hasty in that accusation. I should have said she would have done it apurpose if she could have.”

That brought on another paroxysm of laughter. Tears were now streaming from his eyes. Reina had to bite her lip to keep it from curling. His humor had become infectious.

“Enough, Ranulf,” she said in exasperation. “So I behaved like an idiot. You do not have to rub it in.”

“Nay, not an idiot.” He pulled her down next to him and leaned over her, smiling. “You were utterly delightful.”

“And silly,” she said, feeling warmed by the way he was now looking at her.

“Silly, aye. Know you that I have never before laughed like that? I am glad you are so silly, little general.”

Her hand came up to wipe the moisture from his cheeks. “I am sorry.”

“Why?”

“That you have had so little to laugh about in your life.”

He caught her fingers and brought them to his lips. “Careful, lady, or you will find out firsthand what I do to women who wish to cosset me with sympathy.”

“I know exactly what you do,” she snorted. “You take complete advantage of their sympathy to lure them to your bed. A shameful male tactic.”

“No more shameful than those female tactics you worked on me yesternoon, when you assumed I was suffering a guilty conscience.”

“Never did I—” she started to deny, but his knowing grin brought an answering one to her lips. “It always worked on my father.”

“I am not your father.”

Her brow arched. “You do not care whether you have peace in your household or not?”

Reina tensed as he bent his head to grasp the edge of her bedrobe with his teeth and pull it open, then melted when his tongue slid out to swirl about the exposed nipple. When he glanced back at her, his eyes gleamed with male satisfaction.

“I believe,” he said in answer to her question, “I have discovered a more delightful way to make peace.”

“Mayhap you have,” she agreed in a husky whisper, but then sat up and was able to add matter-of-factly, “But as we are already at peace…”

“Not so fast,” he chuckled.

A finger in the neck of her bedrobe brought her back down. It also brought the opened robe off her shoulders. Both breasts were now visible, and the look on his face as he gazed at them told Reina this conversation would not continue much longer.

“Are you still angry that I sought out Red Alma?”

Reina squirmed uncomfortably. “You could have brought your question to me.”

“Would you have told me how to pleasure you as I did?”

“How could I when I did not know such was even possible?”

“Neither did I.”

His lips grazed her cheek on a path toward her mouth, but he did not kiss her. He ran his tongue tantalizingly over her lower lip until she was teased enough to press her lips to his. Then he leaned back, grinning.

“Now tell me you enjoyed it.”

“You have doubt?” she asked incredulously.

“Nay, but I want to hear you say it. Say it, Reina.” He punctuated the demand with another kiss, leaving his lips hovering just over hers. “Say it.”

“I did—enjoy it.”

“Do I do it again, you will not protest?”

“I did not say that . Ranulf, wait! ’Tis morn…daylight…sweet Jesú ,” she ended with a blissful sigh.