The Norman's Heart

by Margaret Moore

  “I am covered, and you are my husband, so I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  God’s wounds, how arrogant she sounded! If she were properly dressed, he would make her understand that he was in command here. However, she was driving him to distraction and making him remember with excruciating exactness the pleasure he had felt in her arms.

  He reminded himself forcefully that the more important issue was this outlandish business of Reginald’s alleged intention to marry Hilda.

  “So, you believe I will be able to succeed where you have failed,” she remarked, moving away from the bed.

  “I want you to talk some sense into your mutton-headed brother, that’s all,” he said, steeling himself against her wiles. “And what about Joselynd? She doesn’t know about this yet, does she?”

  “I would think you should be more aware of what Lady Joselynd knows than I, since you have spent more time in her presence. However, the answer to your question is, she has not yet been informed of Reginald’s feelings.”

  “Why the devil not?”

  “Because he’s reluctant to tell her. He doesn’t want to upset her.”

  “He’ll have to. I won’t.”

  “I will. I have already told Reginald so.”

  “Then why haven’t you?”

  “I have not yet found an appropriate time.”

  “Well, you had better—and soon. And you can tell that idiot brother of yours I have no intention of going to the baron on his behalf. If he wants to make a fool of himself, he can do so without my assistance!”

  “Is it my ‘idiot brother’s’ apparent predicament that has upset you, or the fact that your clever plan has floundered?” she inquired.

  “What clever plan?” he demanded.

  “Didn’t the baron want Reginald to marry your sister to ensure his obedience? To put him under your control, and therefore his?”

  “The baron does not control me.”

  Her skeptically raised eyebrow infuriated him. “Now you want me to exert some influence over poor, confused Reginald? Do you honestly think I will encourage him to obey?”

  “Perhaps my request is not overwise. It’s probably your fault that he disagrees with me now.”

  Mina sighed sorrowfully. “To think, the great Sir Roger thwarted by a mere woman’s influence. How very sad for you.”

  “Mina....” he warned, not sure what he intended to say.

  “I should think you would want the best for Hilda, though,” she observed, at last crossing her arms and hiding the pink hint of her nipples, to Roger’s relief. “Or is it that Reginald has stolen her affections away from you? Has Hilda refused to sleep with you anymore?”

  “I haven’t slept with Hilda since before you arrived,” he declared defensively, then once more cursed himself for letting her prod him into that admission. In truth, he had been spending his nights in a variety of locations, either alone in her garden when the nights were warm and cloudless, or with his soldiers, hoping that no one would notice he never slept with his wife. He walked toward the window and feigned great interest in the evening sky.

  “So what does it matter to you if another man wants Hilda for his wife?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Roger saw her finally put on a velvet robe he had never seen before. The fabric was a thick, rich indigo blue that made her skin appear almost translucent.

  He faced her again, noting immediately how her eyes had darkened to a deeper blue, a shade like the western sky at dusk. “It matters to me if the man in question is a Norman nobleman who has sworn fealty to my overlord.”

  “Reginald has not sworn fealty to any man.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Mina’s lips twitched, yet she didn’t actually frown, and he was reluctantly impressed by her self-control. “He only arrived here from France a few months ago,” she explained impartially, pulling the robe tight and once again disclosing her exquisite shape, “and I see I must remind you that the baron is of lesser rank than Reginald. If Reginald swears fealty to anyone, it will be to the king himself or to the baron’s overlord, Lord Trevelyan, whose own daughter married a man not nobly born.”

  Her cool, calm argument stunned Roger. It had simply never occurred to him that Reginald was not the baron’s liege man. If that were so—and he could certainly confirm this startling news—then it didn’t matter what the baron wanted. “Why did he agree to the baron’s proposal of a marriage between himself and my sister then?” he charged.

  “Knowing Reginald, you should be able to guess. The baron is a powerful, persuasive man, and Reginald values his friendship and the alliance between them. At the time the baron proposed the match, it probably only mattered that it was the baron’s idea, and Reginald saw no reason to disagree. That has obviously changed.”

  “Obviously,” Roger echoed scornfully. “I was forgetting the power of love.”

  Mina gave him a hostile look that distressed him more than he cared to acknowledge. “Or could it be that Reginald has finally grown up enough to make a decision for himself and not blindly obey?”

  Her emphasis on the last word had all the force of an insult. She made it both a condemnation and an intimation of absurdity that he should expect anyone to obey him. God’s teeth, he was never going to understand her! He didn’t want to, and he shouldn’t have to.

  Grinding his teeth in agitated frustration, Roger marched from the room without another word, slamming the door, now determined to leave Reginald to his fate.

  He halted at the bottom of the steps. A quick survey of the hall proved that Reginald was not there. Several of the soldiers were drinking ale and talking among themselves before retiring to their barracks. Some played dice or chess, and Albert and the minstrel were sitting together, singing softly.

  Roger nodded briefly to those who acknowledged his presence, then continued on into the inner ward. He kept going until he had left the castle. Once outside and away from the sentries’ view, he went to the river and sank onto the grassy bank.

  He never should have gone to his bedchamber and tried to talk to Mina. He had been certain that whatever she thought about marriage in general, she would not approve of the alliance of her half brother with a woman who was, although kind and good, a servant. He had convinced himself that she would agree Reginald’s talk of love was the foolishness of a dull-witted simpleton. He had never imagined she would disagree.

  Nor had he wanted to be alone with her. It was necessary that they keep this matter a secret as long as possible, that was all. It was not that he half hoped, in the secret recesses of his heart and in the intimacy of their bedchamber, that she might say she could love ... someone.

  Even if he had voiced his imprudent thoughts, that antagonistic look on her face demonstrated all too plainly that she had no understanding or sympathy for lovesick blockheads—like him.

  He lay on the ground and stared up at the night sky and the twinkling stars, trying to decipher his discordant emotions.

  Reginald might be a fool, and a deluded one at that, with all his talk of love. And Albert might be a pitiful man who had let his affection for a married woman destroy his prospects.

  But what did that make him? He wanted to be with Mina all the time, to listen to her voice, watch the play of emotions in her luminous, beautiful eyes, to feel her arms around him. He wanted her to bear his children, and live with him all the days of his life. He wanted her to desire and need him with equal fervor.

  And yet he did not risk even touching her. He did not dare let her know how she had reached the vulnerable core of his heart, because he was terrified that she did not care for him at all.

  Perhaps this was God’s vengeance for his arrogant belief that he alone had no need for another person.

  If so, he was regretting that arrogance now. Now that he was in love.

  When the door banged shut, Mina slumped down onto the stool with a shaky sigh. Her encounter with Roger left her feeling weak and spent from the effort of maintaining
her composure while inwardly she was filled with a confused battery of emotions, each one trying to take precedence.

  Ever since the night they had consummated their marriage, her first reaction to the sight of her husband or the sound of his voice was a rapid increase in the beating of her heart and the memory of the myriad sensations of pleasure she had felt in his arms.

  For so long she had hoped he would come to her, to speak with her, to share his feelings. Instead, he had barged into their bedchamber like some kind of righteously indignant potentate, overwrought about Reginald, of all things. Reginald was well able to make his own decisions, whether Roger de Montmorency wanted to believe it or not.

  She sighed heavily. That was not what really disturbed her. What was more dismaying was his reaction to her. Wanting to know if he cared for her at all, and feeling like some kind of lust-crazed wench, she had deliberately tried to entice him.

  And what had happened? He had told her to cover herself and accused her of having no shame!

  She had felt totally embarrassed, even ridiculous, and so had striven to pay attention to the business at hand, as well as sustaining an aura of calm indifference, which was getting harder all the time. It was all too easy for her mask to slip, at least inwardly, and when that happened, it took all her fortitude not to weaken and show him that his words, his expressions, his requests did affect her. There was not another man in all the world it would be so difficult to disregard.

  She was a fool. A weak, lovesick fool.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Three nights later, Roger crept up the steps to his bedchamber. He had gone to his other estate, leaving Albert behind this time. Tonight he had returned secretly, hoping to find... nothing. Fearing that he would discover Mina in their bed, but not alone.

  If he did catch her in bed with Albert, there could be no question that he would be completely justified in whatever punishment he meted out, and if they were guilty, he was quite determined that they would be punished.

  If Mina was alone, he hoped his constant anxiety would be alleviated.

  Despite his determination, his steps faltered and his hand hesitated as he reached out to lift the latch.

  He reminded himself that he was in the right. This was his castle and his wife. There could be no excuse for adultery, none whatsoever. No matter how he had treated her before, or what he had said to the baron. He would never betray his oath of marriage, no more than he would betray the fealty he had sworn to the baron. And certainly Albert, his trusted liege man, should never have broken his oath of loyalty. There could be no pardon for him, either.

  So at last he quietly lifted the latch and stepped into the darkened room, his footfalls muffled by the carpet.

  Mina was sleeping in the bed, and, as he could clearly observe in the moonlight, alone. Relief, mixed with hope, flooded through him.

  How peaceful and how vulnerable she looked, so different from her appearance during the day. Then she seemed so aloof, so remote... so alone. And what had he done to alleviate that loneliness? Nothing. But it was her fault for having lied to him. Wasn’t it?

  If he had been born a woman and heard such an assessment of his characteristics, might he not have considered some kind of revenge, too? If he was unkind to her, was it any wonder she might seek solace in another man’s arms?

  Perhaps they were too clever for him. Maybe they had been warned of his return somehow. With drooping shoulders and the sickening realization that he might never be free of his suspicions, Roger went to leave the room. Before he could do so, Mina sat up and asked sleepily, “Who is there? What is it?”

  Her tousled hair curled around her pale, soft face. She held the coverings to her chest, although she wore that same thin shift.

  His body responded instantly to the enticing vision, and it took only another instant for his mind to formulate a plan. He would test her. If she were truly unfaithful to him, she would not welcome his embrace. If she felt a duty to do so, she would surely not respond with the same enthusiasm she had when they had consummated the marriage.

  “It is I. Roger. Your husband,” he answered softly, closing the door quietly.

  “Why have you come back?” she asked, obviously confused and rather alarmed. “Is something amiss?”

  “I wanted to be home,” he answered, stepping closer.

  She shifted and brushed back a stray curl in a delicate feminine gesture that inflamed his desire. “Why... why are you here?”

  “A husband surely need not explain his presence in his own bedchamber,” he replied before he pulled off his tunic.

  Mina didn’t move. Indeed, she could barely believe the evidence before her eyes. Roger here, instead of miles away? And using an inviting, sensual tone of voice that sent the blood thrilling through her body even before he took off his tunic and revealed his muscular chest and strong, broad shoulders?

  She held her breath as he walked toward the bed and sat on the edge, uncertain why he had come back, and if she should ask the question again. Then he reached out to move back another loose curl, and his fingers brushed her cheek. Who would have guessed such a simple gesture could have such a devastating, intense effect on her? Every limb turned to liquid, every thought disappeared, leaving only the burning need to have him touch her again.

  Was it lust or love? Did she care? Did he? “Roger, why are you here?”

  He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on her cheek, his lips moving slowly toward her neck as he seized her shoulders. “To be with you,” he whispered.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice more a low moan as he pressed her back onto the pillows.

  Say you want me, she thought fervently. Say you need me. Say you love me! His body slowly moved over hers, his leg draped across her thigh.

  “Does it matter?” As he moved between her legs, he used his tongue to tease the hardened peaks of her nipples through her shift, the sensation nearly overpowering.

  But not quite. The horrible notion that perhaps it was only his intention to use her to satisfy a physical need struck her. Why else would he come here? Why now, after all these days? Maybe Joselynd had refused his advances, so he went where he could not legally be denied.

  “Why are you here?” she demanded again, using her elbows to shove herself up and away from him. Oh, God’s blood, to think that she weakened so easily in his arms.

  “This is my bed,” he said, one hand snaking up her leg. “You are my wife. What other reasons do I need?”

  “Where have you been all these other nights?”

  “That doesn’t matter. I am here now, and I want you.”

  “For what?”

  His expression hardened and he moved back a little. It was then she saw what could only be dismay in his eyes. “I see you have no desire for my company, my lady,” he said with a trace of bitterness, then, rising, added, “so I will rid you of it.”

  She did not know what to make of his troubled look or the agitated tone of his voice. “Roger—”

  The look he gave her was full of scorn. “What is this? Are you changing your mind? Have you thought better of refusing me?”

  She climbed out of the bed and faced him, confused but determined not to be vanquished even in the bedchamber. “Are you thinking of forcing me?”

  “Of course not!” He yanked on his tunic.

  She couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer. “Roger, we must talk,” she said decisively and with true desperation.

  “You have made it very clear that you wish me to leave, so I will take myself away. Nor will I trouble you with my conversation. Good night, my lady.”

  “Roger!”

  Out he went, leaving her alone once more.

  As she stared helplessly at the back of the door, Mina did not feel the burning, cleansing anger she needed. Instead, she thought of a forlorn little boy trying so desperately to stay with his sister. She had seen a wisp of that child in Roger’s eyes, and she knew exactly how he must have felt on that longago day: abandoned and com
pletely alone, watching the one person he loved going away.

  The Sabbath dawned fair and fine, with a hint of the cooler days of autumn to come. Roger went to mass and afterward broke the fast as if this were any other Sabbath. Mina sat in the hall at the high table to his left; Lady Joselynd, who apparently remained ignorant of Reginald’s foolish notion regarding Hilda, sat on his right. Albert sat to Lady Joselynd’s right, and Reginald on Mina’s left, as far away from Joselynd as he could get. Hilda wisely made herself scarce, performing her duties swiftly and silently before seeking refuge in the kitchen

  Roger noted that Albert accepted his place at the table without a qualm. But he was a clever man, and his apparent acceptance of not being beside Mina might merely be a way to avert suspicion.

  As always, Mina avoided speaking to him, her husband. On the other hand, she didn’t speak much to anybody.

  This state of living was slowly becoming impossible. Unfortunately, Roger could not decide how to deal with it—astonishing in itself, he knew. He had always been decisive, but perhaps the stakes had never been so high.

  As he sat in his hall, he went through his choices one more time.

  He could accuse Mina and Albert right here and now, in his hall and before the assembly. However, he had no real proof of their adultery. He had seen nothing definite himself, and no one had come to him with tales of illicit meetings or overheard conversations of an intimate nature. The case would have to go before a higher authority, too, and that meant the baron. At one time, Roger would have been absolutely sure the baron would pass a judgment favorable to him; however, after seeing the way Baron DeGuerre admired Mina, he could not be so certain now. If the baron decided against him, it would be completely humiliating.

  He could confide in Dudley, and perhaps one or two others among his men, and enlist their aid in finding evidence of wrongdoing. That would mean revealing his shame to others, though, and admitting that he had failed as a husband.