Defy Not the Heart (3 page)

R
anulf did not remove his helmet until he had entered the Great Hall and saw that it was filled with only women and children. It still made him uneasy, however, a place so big, with so few men. He could not help thinking there must be an army of soldiers yet hidden away, waiting to decide if he were friend or foe ere they showed themselves.

From what he had seen thus far, there were more servants than soldiers here, which likely explained the pitiful display of defense he had witnessed on arrival. The castle had nearly been taken, and by a ridiculously small number of men, without even a knight among them. But even so, those outer walls alone should have taken weeks to be breached, if it were possible, and that only with every available siege engine brought into use. Whoever was in charge of the defense either was an imbecile or had been slyly losing the battle apurpose.

“If…if you will wait here, my lord, the lady—Lady Reina—will soon make you welcome.”

Ranulf eyed the young man, who appeared no older than Kenric. Aubert Malfed, he claimed to be, squire to Sir William Folville, whoever that was. Malfed had met Ranulf and his men inside the inner bailey and had led them straightaway into the keep itself without asking so much as a single question. Ranulf was used to intimidating men, but this was ridiculous, and he
itched to take the boy to task for his foolishness in literally turning the keep over to them. But then that would be defeating his own purpose.

He had intended to ask for Roger de Champeney, Lord of Clydon, as if he were unaware that the man was dead. His business could have been anything to do with the lord, and would have kept his true reason for his presence here from being suspected by the lady. But that was if he had come in alone, with only a few men as retinue, as he had planned to do.

Arriving to find Clydon under attack changed things considerably. Having to bring in his own troop of thirty men-at-arms, as well as Rothwell’s fifty, made his presence threatening, and if he was not to alarm the lady into hiding, he needed a new reason for being there.

At the moment, he was being made to feel most welcome, after sending the besiegers on their way. But to say he was just passing by and, as a lark, decided to come to Clydon’s defense was not likely to be believed. Knights did not travel with so many men without a military purpose, and so being, they did not stop to join a war they just happened across.

The squire was too nervous by half, rambling on about some neighbor named de Rochefort being in league with some outlaws nesting in Clydon’s woods, supposedly the besiegers. What he was doing was stalling, it seemed, talking nonstop so that no questions could be asked. The lady of the castle should have been there in the hall to greet them, and Ranulf had to wonder why she was not, or had not come by now. Was she at that moment being spirited away, out of his reach?

Ranulf at last held up a hand to silence the squire.
“Where is your lady, sirrah? I would know that she is safe.”

“Ah—she is safe. The last I saw…ah…where she is now, I am not sure.” That was no answer to relieve Ranulf’s mind, and his resultant frown half terrified poor Aubert, so that he added quickly, “I will find her,” and practically ran from the hall.

“What do you make of that, Ranulf?” Walter asked thoughtfully beside him as they watched the young squire disappear up some stairs in a corner turret. “Think you the lady’s chambers are up there?”

“This keep is so big, there is no telling what is up there, so keep your eye on that stairwell.” His own eyes moved to scan the hall, passing over the women briefly, marking one beauty in particular for later consideration, before turning to the others with him. “Eric, go and—Eric!” The lad had to be jabbed in the ribs before he tore his eyes off the same stunning blonde Ranulf had noted. “This is no time to be ogling the wenches,” Ranulf growled low.

“Aye, but God’s wounds! Did you ever see such a—” Eric grunted to a stop when Searle jabbed him from the other side, and he finally noted Ranulf’s darkening scowl. “Ah, yes, sir?”

“Go and set a man at each gate. I want no women leaving the castle, not a single one.” As Eric left, Ranulf turned to Kenric. “Go and ask the servants where the lady is,” but when Kenric headed straight for the blond beauty, Ranulf called him back. “Give me an excuse to cut it off and I will. We attend to business before pleasure.”

Kenric blanched, his hand going protectively to cover his groin, but he nodded before starting off
again. Walter and Searle laughed to see him steer a wide circle around the blond wench this time.

“Come, Ranulf, if we must wait, let us at least sit down,” Walter suggested, pushing one of the stools in front of the hearth at Ranulf before seating himself on another. “Lanzo, see if you can locate the steward or someone who can fetch us some ale. I could use a drink after our little sport, but as usual, everyone is too afeard of our leader here to approach us with refreshment.” Walter grinned at the sour look Ranulf turned on him. “You know ’tis true, brother. The women might crawl all over you once they know you are not as dangerous as you look, but not before then.”

“You are mad, Walter, to tease him now,” Searle said in a whisper, though Ranulf did sit down.

“Not so,” Walter replied just as quietly. “If I do not, he is like to lose his patience waiting on the lady, and woe betide her if that happens.”

“It has already happened by the look of him.”

“Nay, not yet.” Walter grinned. “But she had better appear right quickly.”

Unfortunately, Kenric returned to say no one had seen Reina de Champeney since dawn, and Ranulf did explode then. “Christ’s toes! She flew before the attack began. She has escaped!”

“Nay, Ranulf, be easy. ’Tis as like she wisely hid herself and no one has yet told her ’tis safe to come out.”

“Aye,” Searle added. “’Tis her ladies would know where she is and should have been asked. I will find one and…thank the Blessed Mother! Here is the lady now, Ranulf.”

Ranulf turned around to see Aubert Malfed return
ing, following behind a young girl who was indeed a lady, garbed richly in blue samite, with copper-colored hair neatly tucked beneath a sheer while veil. She was much younger than he had somehow imagined she would be, no more than twelve or thirteen, he would guess; but as that was the age at which most heiresses were married off, he could not feel any but the slightest aversion to be taking her for Rothwell, and that only because she was so young, and lovely as well.

It was too common a happening, the old lords taking children to wife, and he had already grappled with his conscience about taking
any
wife to someone like Rothwell, deciding a man in his position could not afford to involve himself with the right or wrong of it. If he did not take her to the old man, someone else would, so why should he give up five hundred marks simply because Rothwell personally disgusted him? If he had been dragging his feet over the whole affair, ’twas only because of his own reluctance to actually have to deal with a “lady.” Personal experience had taught him well that they were not what they seemed to be.

This one, for all her look of sweet innocence and nervousness, too, as she approached him, could be as vicious and cruel as any other he had known; reminded of that, Ranulf gritted his teeth now that he must actually speak with her. ’Twas sheer perversity that he did not rise for the sake of chivalry, or even because her rank was so far above him. Ladies had long been calling him brute and churl because he did not hide his contempt for them. But because he
must
deal with this one, he schooled his features to a blandness that did not reveal what he really felt.

She, in fact, curtsied before him. Well, why not? He was accustomed to being called lord by servants or anyone who did not know he was no more than a landless knight undeserving of that title.

“I bid you welcome to Clydon,” she said as she rose, her voice soft if a bit hesitant in her nervousness. “Do forgive us for not greeting you sooner, but we all thought our lady would have met you in—”

“Your lady?
You
are not Reina de Champeney?”

“Oh, nay, my lord. I am Elaine Fitz Osbern of Forthwick. ’Tis my honor to be fostered here at Clydon with my father’s overlady.”

“Now, Ranulf…” Walter began as he saw his friend’s expression darken dangerously, but he was too late.

“By Christ’s holy blood!” Ranulf bellowed. “I will know why the lady will not receive me, and I will know it now! You, Malfed, were sent—”

“My lord, please!” Aubert cried, fearfully backing away even as Elaine Fitz Osbern was doing. “My lady was not where I thought she would be, but she means to make you welcome, I swear!”

“Five minutes, sirrah, or by God—”

He did not have to finish. Aubert turned about and ran away again, this time toward the bailey. Ranulf then fixed his eyes back on Lady Elaine, who began to stutter.

“May—may I—offer—” With a tiny gasp, she gave up and fled, too.

“Well, there goes our refreshment, thank you very much,” Walter grumbled. “And that thunder of yours has frightened away everyone else as well. I suppose I could
try
to find the buttery myself, but God’s
wounds, it might take days to locate it in a place this size.”

Ranulf’s reply was curt and to the point. “Searle, stuff something in his mouth if he says another word.”

A
ubert nearly ran Reina down on the stairs as she mounted them with Theodric at her side. If Theo had not caught her, she would have gone tumbling backwards, yet the squire was so agitated he did not even think to apologize.

“Thank God you are come at last, my lady! The lord has somehow taken insult that you have not received him. He affrighted Lady Elaine to death and—”

“And you as well, I see,” Reina snapped impatiently. “
Jesú
, I told
you
to make them welcome, Aubert. Did you offer refreshment, see to their comfort?”

“I—I did not think you would be so long, and—and he is monstrous, my lady. I have never seen a man so—”

“Lackwit! Do you tell me all this time no one has attended them?”

“I thought
you
would be down.”

“I never came up! There were wounded who needed immediate attention and—oh! Never mind. I swear, Aubert, you have me so wroth, if I do not see you for a sennight, ’twill be too soon. Do
something
right and pull me up these stairs. I am tired unto death and, thanks to you, cannot even sneak past them to get to my chamber as I intended. Theo, do not just stand there grinning like an idiot. Help!”

“You must admit, my lady, that we do not often see you in such a grouch.” Theo chuckled as he pulled on one arm, and Aubert the other, to maneuver the last few stairs. “’Tis most novel and enlightening. There, can you manage now?” he asked at the top of the stairs.

“Aye, and you will find yourself demoted to the kitchens if I am treated to any more of your humor. You overstep yourself, but then you always do. I am in no mood for it just now. And where the devil
is
everyone?” she said as she looked across the hall to find it empty except for those few men by the hearth at the far side of it.

“I
told
you he was fearsome,” Aubert said indignantly.

“What you said was ‘monstrous.’ Do you mean this lord has frightened everyone into hiding?”

“I did not see them leave because I was leaving too quickly myself, but they are wise to hide. He is not
normal
, Lady Reina, and do hurry.”

“Do I have reason to fear, Aubert?” she asked in all seriousness now.

“Nay, he wants to see that you are safe, is all. He would not believe me when I told him you were. Me-thinks he suspects something amiss because you have not appeared to him yet, and the longer he waits, the more suspicious he is become.”

“Well, run ahead and tell him I am found. I simply cannot hurry, Aubert, to save my soul, not with this armor now weighing as much as a horse.”

“Please, my lady, he is like to wring my neck before I get the words out if you are not beside me. Let us just go.”

She sighed and did just that, with one of them on
each side of her, yet several feet behind her, she noted in disgust. Her “protectors.” She would feel safer with her ladies around her, even if most of them were children.

Shoulders slumped, her head aching from exhaustion, her body feeling as if it had been battered, and so it had been when that wounded man had fallen on her, Reina presented herself to her “savior,” started to curtsy—whether she would be able to rise by herself afterward was another matter—and found herself lifted clear off the floor instead.

“I am done with excuses, delays, and evasions, so if you have not come to tell me where the lady of this castle is, you are a dead man.”

Reina’s mouth dropped open, but not to utter any words. Words were stuck halfway down her gullet and were not likely to come up soon. He held her off the floor with his fist hooked into her mailed tunic just above her breasts, one fist, one single fist supporting her and her accursed mail more than a foot above the rushes, bringing her face up to a level with his. A peek down revealed that much; revealed, too, that
he
was not standing on anything to account for this height. Monstrous, Aubert had said? Sweet
Jesú
, this was a giant, as wide across as he was tall—well, that was an exaggeration—but he was incredibly wide across the shoulders and chest, easiest to see in her present position of looking
down
on things. No tall reed this, but a bear, with a bear’s growl.

She was not the only one in momentary shock. Theodric and Aubert were likewise rendered speechless, that this giant would dare,
dare
, to treat her so, to speak to her so, and not only that. He shook her!
He actually shook her when she did not answer him soon enough.

Aubert was the first to regain his senses, only to lose them again in thinking he alone could do something. Instead of speaking up to inform the giant of his mistake, the fool lad chose
that
moment to finally be courageous. He leapt on the giant’s back, to be shrugged off as if he were no more than a pesky squirrel. The giant was annoyed enough by it to shake Reina even harder.

Reina then heard the most reasonable voice suggest dryly, “Mayhap if you set him down, Ranulf, the fellow would remember he has a tongue.”

But it was Theodric who did the remembering and said, “’Tis the Lady Reina you are throttling, my lord.”

Oh, curse and rot that boy for not being more subtle! The giant was so surprised he dropped her, just let go, and Reina went crashing to the floor at his feet.

They stood around her, three towering knights too stunned to move, let alone speak, staring down at her with the most ridiculous expressions. If Reina did not hurt so, she would have laughed, for this truly was the perfect topping to an otherwise rotten day. But she did see the humor in it. Later she would be mortified. Just now, it was their turn.

“Well, this is one way to discover if the rushes need changing.”

She could not have said anything to embarrass the giant more. If it were possible, his face would have gone up in flames, it burned so red.

Reina felt better already, until she tried to rise by herself and could manage no more than getting to her
hands and knees.
Jesú
, she had to get this armor off her back—immediately. Nothing had ever made her so graceless and bone-weary, and the minute it was off, it was going straight into the fire.

Two hands slipped under her arms, and she became weightless again for a second as she was lifted and then set on her feet. Directly at eye level now was the giant’s chest. Reina refused to look any higher until she stepped back several feet so she would not have to crane her neck. And then she felt her own surprise.

That face had been a golden blur before, but now she saw each feature clearly. Golden brows, straight and thick, and far darker than the light golden hair, of a length to set on those immense shoulders. A well-shaped nose between broad cheekbones covered with sun-kissed skin. Firm lips over a square-cut jaw shaded with dark bronze stubble. It was a face harsh in its masculinity, yet even so, incredibly handsome. And he had violet eyes, piercing, narrowing now as she stared. Violet! Imagine that.

Ranulf could feel his anger returning, and centering solely on the lady, if lady she really was. He had thought her a man, albeit a little one, but a man nonetheless, and who would not think so with her shapeless mail hauberk that fell to her knees, mailed chausses on her legs, a mail coif clinging to her head, leaving only a small oval of her face visible. Even her brows and chin were covered by the coif, and there was dried blood on her sleeves and hands.

She might not be wearing a sword or any other weapon, but she in no way appeared to be a woman—except her voice was soft and melodic, but heard too late to keep him from making a fool of himself. He did not even have the appeasement of seeing her react
to him as most females did. She might have been surprised, but for no more than a second. Her large blue eyes, as pale as the morning sky, held no admiration or fascination as they looked him over. They were direct now, without fear, with just the barest trace of curiosity.

“Thank you,” he heard her say in response to his assistance.

“Nay, I must beg your pardon,” he heard himself answer, when what he wanted to do was rip that coif off her head to see if he could then determine if she was child or woman. He did not like not knowing.

And then she surprised him by taking full blame for his mistake, when she had every right to upbraid him instead. “Nay, my lord, ’tis I who must beg pardon for receiving you like this, and so causing confusion. I had hoped to change first, but Aubert said you were—impatient—to be assured of my safety.”

The dark-haired man beside the golden giant laughed suddenly. “And so you were safe, demoiselle, until you came before my friend here. Allow me to present to you this chagrined fellow who is feeling much the fool, Ranulf Fitz Hugh, and our young friend, Searle of Totnes.”

“And you are?”

“Walter de Breaute, at your service.”

She inclined her head to each of them, though she was waiting for the giant to speak again. But he did not, did no more than glower at Walter de Breaute for making light of his embarrassment.

They might have given their names, but Reina was aware they had not really said
who
they were. Still, courtesy demanded. “I am Reina de Champeney and
I bid you welcome to Clydon. Your arrival was most timely, as I am sure you have realized.”

Walter was quick to forestall her thanks. “How long were you under siege?”

“There was no siege. They attacked with the dawn, after their man who had passed the night with us opened the outer gates to them.”

“And you went out to fight them yourself?”

Now that the giant was heard from again, his contempt unmistakable, Reina could have wished he had kept his mouth shut. “To fight, nay. My man. Sir William, was bedfast, and there was no one else capable of taking charge.”

“You sent for help?”

“There was no time,” Reina answered without thinking, then paled to realize what a fool she was to give him that information before knowing his purpose there.

He might have saved her from one devil, but he could as like as not be another. And she would swear he seemed relieved with her answer, that his lips were not so tightly drawn now, his stance more relaxed.

“Why have you no—”

Reina cut hint off. “You have not said what brings you to Clydon Castle.”

“We come from your lord.”

Reina relaxed at once. That was a strange way to say he was from Guy of Shefford, but then he was a strange man. They no doubt had been asked to deliver another letter from the earl’s castellan on their way past Clydon, since she had not yet answered the last one as to the date of her wedding. Nor could she answer this one, at least not until John de Lascelles arrived next week and she knew whether he would be
agreeable to marrying her or not. Lord Richard, whom she would have preferred to wed, was still in Ireland, according to his castellan’s last reply, seeing to his father’s lands there. The man had been unable to tell her when Richard would return. But these were her problems and must await another time.

Since these men were vassals to Shefford, as she was now herself, it was her due to have their help, so she need not feel quite so beholden. But they were indeed welcome, even if they were only Shefford retainers.

“Forgive my abruptness, Sir Ranulf. I must confess I am sore overset by this morning’s happenings. I will answer all of your questions, but allow me, please, to see to your comfort first.” At his reluctant nod, she sighed with relief and turned to Aubert, who was just now dusting off his clothes from his sprawl in the rushes. She was too tired to bother with her own. “Get the servants back to set up the tables for dinner, then send my steward to me for further orders. He will see to Sir Ranulf’s men, so you report to Lady Margaret. I wish to know how Sir William fares. Theo, find Dame Hilary and have her prepare several chambers, with baths for each, and wine. Do not forget the wine. And send Lady Elaine to the wounded. I took care of the most needful, but there is still minor stitching to do, and ’tis time she learned to apply her needle to flesh. Then you may see to me.”

Walter watched her walk away from them and shook his head. “She can barely stand up, let alone get to her chamber, and God’s wounds, did you hear the way she took command, and she such a tiny thing? Mayhap I should help her…” His words trailed off
as Ranulf left his side, and his mouth dropped open when be saw Ranulf had left to follow the lady himself.

Ranulf reached her in only three strides and scooped her up in his arms. He heard her gasp but ignored it, continuing on to the stairs she had been heading toward.

“You should not wear armor if you cannot carry its weight,” was all he said.

Well she knew it but did not say so, too afeard at the moment of his intent. But that fear lasted only as long as it took him to mount the stairs, mere seconds, even though the stairwell in the east corner tower rose the two-storied height of the Great Hall to reach the third floor of the keep. At the top he set her down and, with a curt nod, immediately returned below.

How chivalrous, she thought, then thought of him no more. The door to the lord’s chambers was right there, with the stairs continuing up to the battlements surrounding the roof, but Reina moved slowly down the narrow passage that cut through the thick wall of the keep, lit by several window embrasures. She passed the women’s quarters, where most of her ladies slept in a chamber beyond, with the weaving-and-sewing room in front where the chambermaids slept, and finally reached her own small chamber in the north tower. She could have long since moved into the spacious lord’s chamber, but her grief had kept her from it, and when she married would be soon enough to take up residence there.

Her room was empty, as it should be this time of morning, and Reina slumped back against the door with a weary sigh, too tired to move even a few feet more to her bed. She could not think of the rest of
the day, the entertaining she must do, the questions she had promised to answer for her guests. It was so hard speaking to visitors, never knowing how much to say, who might be aware of her circumstances, lying to anyone who was not. The lying was the worst, and it was her father who had started it all, thinking he was doing as she would want.