Defy Not the Heart

by Johanna Lindsey

  "A little warning ere you enter would not be amiss, my lord," she bit out caustically. " 'Tis called knocking."

  "At my own door? I think not."

  "If you are alone, it makes no difference, but you are not alone."

  "Neither are you, lady, and I will know the reason for that right quickly."

  Too late she saw that he was not just scowling as was his usual wont. He was seething with anger, the cords of his neck taut with it, his violet eyes blazing with it. And those eyes were riveted on Theodric, not on her. But Reina was angry herself, and not just at being embarrassed again.

  She came swiftly to her feet to demand, "Just what are you insinuating? You were apprised long ago that Theodric is my personal servant. Why else would he be here except to attend to his duties?"

  "And what duties has he that have you sitting be­fore him half naked?"

  "Do not be stupid," she snapped. "He looks at me as he looks at you—nay, that is not right. He would rather look at you. Me he does not even notice, any more than Lanzo would notice you when he bathes or dresses you."

  "Do you tell me those are his duties?"

  "Of course."

  "Not anymore, by God!" Ranulf snarled, and to Theodric, "Out!"

  Reina stiffened and put out an arm to detain the boy. "You do not have to leave, Theo."

  "Jesu, Reina!" Theo croaked behind her. "Do you want me to die?"

  "He will not touch you."

  "I would not wager on that, wife," Ranulf said, the softer tone more ominous. "Do you think on it, you will recall that I owe him a thrashing that I will be most happy to administer is he not gone in ..."

  It was unnecessary to continue, Theo already hav­ing slipped under Reina's arm to bolt past Ranulf and out the door. Lanzo chuckled at the comical exit. Reina gave him a withering look before turning her back on the pair. She did not trust herself to speak just then. Her temper was that close to making her scream like an idiot.

  "You may go, too, Lanzo," Ranulf said in a tone indicating his emotions were back under control. "My lady will help me disrobe."

  "And have you accuse me of usurping another of his jobs?" Reina tossed over her shoulder with a baleful look. "Do not count on it, my lord."

  "Is it not your duty to assist your husband in what­ever manner he bids you?"

  "Do not talk to me of duty after that childish dis-play."

  "You refuse?"

  "Jesu, he understands," she said to the ceiling. "Thank you."

  " "IWould seem your Theo is not the only one long overdue a thrashing."

  She had not heard him come up behind her, though he was so close his breath stirred her hair. She had not heard the door close either, but they were now alone.

  "Mayhap you can frighten Theo half to death with that threat, but I am not so fainthearted."

  "What threat? Do I deem it needful, I promise you will find it uncomfortable to sit down for at least a sennight." His hand came to the back of her neck to turn her around to face him. "Is it needful, Reina?"

  "Are you asking for my permission?"

  He grinned. "I would not be so foolish as to leave the matter for you to decide. I asked if 'tis needful. Do you intend more defiance?"

  "Nay," she whispered resentfully, fainthearted af­ter all.

  "Good. 'Twas not in my mind to chastise you when I came in here. I had something altogether different in mind."

  She jerked away from him, her eyes flaring with suspicion. "You cannot mean . . . not after . . . how do you dare to think I—"

  "So we had a little disagreement," he interjected with a shrug. " Tis over now."

  "Over? Little?" she choked. "If that is how you see it, fine. 'Tis no more than I could expect from a barbarous lout. But you will not have your 'something altogether different' from me, not in the same day you had it from Red Alma!"

  "Red . . . You had best explain yourself right quickly, lady."

  "Me?" she gasped. "You visit a whore, and I am to explain myself?"

  "So that is the tick got under your skirt today." He grinned suddenly, then furthered her outrage by laugh­ing. "And I told her you would not be that silly."

  "You told . . . silly?" she sputtered. "Aye, then I must be, to think my husband would not shame me so openly."

  He shook his head at her, still grinning. "My lady, you were in nowise shamed—"

  "And the pigs will fly on the morrow," she snorted. "Best you inform the falconer to prepare for this wonder."

  "—nor have you reason to be wroth."

  "So I am to wonder daily whose bed I will find you in next, but never to say aught about it? Is that what you are telling me?"

  "Did you find me in bed with the wench?"

  "I found you with your hand stuck to her breast. Discussing the rent, my lord?"

  Her sarcasm was getting more deadly. He had for­gotten that she had appeared at Red Alma's door at just that moment.

  "Actually, we were discussing you."

  "Certainly." Her tone turned dry.

  "The door was open, if you will recall."

  "Which only proves what you told me was true. You do not care whether you have privacy or not. In the woods, in a whore's hut with the door wide open, what difference?"

  She would have to remember that just now. "You know, little general, you could have saved yourself this jealous grief had you just answered my question yestereve. If you do not want me to lust after anyone but yourself, you should have said so."

  "So you admit it?" she asked with little triumph.

  "Do you?" he countered.

  "Since you cannot be discreet, I suppose I must, though 'tis pointless after the fact," she replied bit­terly. "And I was not jealous. I was appalled and humiliated, but not jealous."

  "Very well, you were not jealous," he allowed, though his smile said he did not believe it. "You still could have avoided any upset at all by simply asking me what I was doing there."

  "There is only one reason a man visits a whore."

  "Then why did I only talk to her?"

  "Talk?" she snorted. "As in putting your hands on her breasts?"

  Instead of squirming in abashment, he chuckled. "How else was she to determine whether or not my touch would bruise you?"

  "Me? You expect me to believe you caressed her for my sake?" she sneered. "Do you try again."

  At last he frowned. "Was I in need of a woman, I would not have had to go to the village to find one. There are plenty here who would not tell me nay, including yourself. What I was in need of was an answer that only a woman of vast and varied experi­ence might know. That is the only reason I sought out Red Alma, and that is all I got from her. Even when her answer aroused me, I did not stay to take advantage of her profession. But had I found you waiting outside, lady, you can be sure you would have had proof that you assumed wrongly."

  She did not mistake his meaning, which brought color to her cheeks. And she believed him, unwisely or not, because she wanted to. Only that meant she had made an utter fool of herself with her accusation. She should be grateful he had not lost patience with her completely. But he was still frowning, which added to her present discomfit.

  "Will you—" She had to clear her throat, nor could she meet his gaze just now. ' 'Will you tell me what answer you sought?"

  He took a step closer, and his voice was a low, husky rumble. "How I might pleasure you without hurting you."

  Reina's head snapped up, hot indignation rushing back to the fore. "You asked her that?"

  "Aye."

  "But you have never hurt me."

  "I have never touched you as I would like, either, too afeard that these hands would cause you pain when I lose control, as I have repeatedly done with you." He became exasperated at her doubtful expres­sion. "Look at you! Do you know how breakable you seem to me? You are the tiniest, most delicate woman I have ever taken to my bed. Lifting you puts no more strain on me than lifting Lady Ella."

  That was an exaggeration, but neither of them no­tic

ed as he grasped her beneath the arms and lifted her high to prove his point. She was looking down on him now, but he looked no farther than her chest, mesmerized by the parting of her robe. Both breasts were revealed, the large, dusky rose areolas in sharp contrast with the creamy white skin, the nipples puck­ering even as he watched, as if reaching for his lips. He obliged, bending his head just enough to taste one, and then sucking it deeply into his mouth.

  Reina saw it coming when his eyes darkened to in­digo, held her breath waiting, and now let it out in a soft moan. Her head rolled back as heat swirled in her belly. Her hands, lightly resting on his shoulders, reached up, fingers digging into his golden mane. That her body was not braced against his, was just dangling from his hands, was of no moment. Her limbs had turned to mush anyway. His remained rock-steady; even his arms still holding her aloft did not tremble.

  He finally let go of her breast, only to lick his way to the other, drawing a deeper moan from her as he flayed this virgin nipple. The feeling became nearly unbearable it was so intense, but Reina would not have cried mercy even did she think to.

  Then suddenly she was being lifted even higher. His lips did not leave her skin, pressing hot kisses across her belly, stopping briefly at her navel for his tongue to delve inside. She barely caught her breath from this onslaught when she was lowered again, slowly, with his tongue now licking a path from belly to neck, to cheek, finally into her mouth for a scorch­ing kiss that curled her fingers and toes.

  When he at last set her back on the floor, she would have crumbled at his feet were she not still gripping fistfuls of his hair. As it was, she collapsed against his body and hardly noticed when he untangled her fingers and lowered her arms to her sides, pushing her robe off her shoulders until it slithered to the floor. She did notice being lifted again, this time cradled in his arms, and vaguely knew where he was carrying her. But no other thoughts intruded through the misty haze of pleasure she was still feeling.

  Nor did the pleasure abate. Even when he placed her on the bed and stepped back to strip off his clothes, the tingling continued as she watched him, his golden flesh revealed, the strength that had held her aloft for so long magnified in each ripple of mus­cle. She wanted to touch his skin, to taste him as he had her. She had never known such trembling antic­ipation. And when she met his eyes, still another thrill of sensation shot through her, for his eyes smoldered with passion, telling her, as she had already sus­pected, that this time would be different. But she could not have imagined how different.

  When he joined her on the bed, his lips came to her again, tantalizing her with soft kisses, alarming her with rougher nips, inflaming her wherever they touched, until she was in a welter of heat and want­ing. She was also thoroughly frustrated that he would not let her touch him as well, but held her hands firmly in his and would not release them.

  At last he prepared to fulfill her need to have him inside her. He knelt between her legs, bestowed one more kiss on her quivering belly, and then . . .

  "Ranulf, what . . . nay, do not . . . nay!"

  He did, and it felt as if she shot right through the ceiling. Half her body did come off the bed, her back arching of its own accord, trying to escape the fire of his tongue where it had gone. But she could not, nor could she twist her hands free. She tried sitting up, only to have one of his arms press her back down and stay there, resting across her belly to keep her down and at his mercy.

  He had none. He continued to taste the essence of her, burning away the shock and fear, to let a wild, primal satisfaction burst forth that was shocking in it­self. This response seemed not her own, and yet she felt it, exulted in it, and, with helpless abandon, let it take her where it would, which it did right quickly. A new, glorious heartbeat exploded between her legs, wringing from her a cry to rival Ranulfs customary roar.

  And while she floated on the breathless aftermath, he entered her, keeping her crested on a wave of pure sweetness as he surged to his own release. Only the wave unexpectedly built to tidal proportions, and at the last moment, her cry joined his in another burst of throbbing ecstasy.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  It 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 bed-robe.

  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.

  / did not do that. Jesu, 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 . . . Jesu, 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 stairwell 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.

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