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“You are my wife, Caryn. That alone would grant you a certain amount of respect.”

She propped herself up on his chest, regarding him closely. “In truth, my lord, after this day, you have claimed a certain amount of my own.”

Ral’s eyes turned the blue of the sky outside the narrow slit of a window. She felt his hold on her waist grow tighter, felt the muscles in his arms grow tense. He captured her chin with a hand, bent his head, and his mouth settled gently over hers.

Caryn groaned at the feel of it, at the soft heat melting through her body.

His lips were hot and demanding, yet there was tenderness in his touch, too.

She opened to his coaxing, let his tongue slide in, felt his hand brush the underside of a breast. Her nipple went hard against the warm, damp fabric of her tunic.

Beneath her hips, she felt Ral’s throbbing manroot.

She should have been afraid of what might happen.

Instead the heat grew more fierce and Caryn slid her arms around his neck.

The moment she did, guilt assailed her. Sweet Mother Mary, what was she doing? She knew where this was leading. She knew she had to stop it and she had to stop it now. Pressing her hands against his chest, she broke away.

“Please, my lord, I-I beg you to release me.”

He smiled, but the warmth had drained away. “’Twould seem an odd request, considering…” His wet hand smoothed over a breast and she trembled with the fiery sensation.

“Please, my lord. Must I remind you of your pledge?”

“I need no reminder save the vacant place I should be filling in your bed.” He rose from the tub, sloshing water all over the floor, Caryn caught up in his arms. “If ’tis your wish, my lady, that I release you”—stepping out of the tub, he turned and dropped her back into the water—“then so be it.”

“Curse you!” Sputtering with outrage, furious and oddly disappointed, Caryn wiped away the soapsuds that trickled down her cheeks.

“Mind that tongue of yours, wench.” Without a care for his nakedness, Ral strode toward the bed to snatch up a white linen towel. He smiled wolfishly. “’Tis not nearly as sweet as your kisses.”

Her face went hot with color. Cursing him vilely beneath her breath, Caryn turned her back on him and climbed out of the water, her sodden skirts raining a second small ocean upon the floor.

“’Tis Lynette you should be kissing, not me,” she reminded him tartly. “’Tis certain she awaits you even as we speak.”

Ral fixed her with a cool gray stare. “I’m grateful for your timely reminder. I thank thee, my lady wife. ”

Caryn ignored him as he finished getting dressed and left the room, but her heart throbbed dully, and Caryn feared she knew the cause.

***

Determined to enjoy the day Ral had promised, Caryn awoke before dawn and made her way out to the stables. The air was brisk but the sky shown with stars; the day should prove to be a warm one.

As noiselessly as she could, she pushed open the stable door and crossed the packed earthen floor, breathing the scent of horses, hay, and leather.

She passed several groups of sleeping men and finally found the one she sought.

Rousing Etienne from his lumpy fern mattress, she nudged his shoulder and quietly called his name.

“God’s wounds, woman!” He gripped his woolen blanket, drawing it up to cover his bony chest as he searched the darkness to see who the vexing female was. “Beg pardon, my lady.” He straightened, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Is aught amiss? ’Tis practically the middle of the night.”

“All is well. ’Tis only that I am in need of your assistance.”

The young squire eyed her warily. “You do not think to again run away?”

“Don’t be a goose.” Kneeling on a pile of straw beside him, Caryn relayed Lord Ral’s orders that she should join him today as his page.

Etienne scratched the scalp beneath his sleep-rumpled hair. “By the faith, he must have been angry to demand such a thing of his lady wife.”

Caryn smiled. “’Tis not so bad. ’Twill be a fine adventure, I think. What have you that I might borrow to wear?”

“This is not another of your tricks?”

“’Tis the lord’s command. I swear it.”

He nodded. “There is aught I own that would fit you, but there is a page named Osbern who is about your same size. Give me a moment to dress and seek him out. I will see you get the items you need.”

Etienne returned not long after, finding her near the stable door, stroking the muzzle of a little sorrel mare. He handed her a bundle of clothes.

“I thank thee, Etienne. I am certain your lord will be pleased.” With a grateful smile, she left him, eager to reach her chamber and make ready for the day ahead.

Avoiding the sleeping men and servants in the hall, she returned to her room, changed into her borrowed clothing, and soon stood near the brazier dressed in tight black chausses and a faded gray tunic that ended several inches above the knee.

Her husband arrived not long after, entering as he usually did, without a knock and taking the room by storm. He strode past her without a word, walking to the side of the bed, jerking back the velvet hangings, leaning over the bed to rouse her.

“My lord?”

He turned at the sound of her voice yet still did not see her. Not until she stepped into the light of a flickering candle she had set upon the table near the door.

Ral made a hissing sound as he sucked in air past his teeth. “By all that’s holy!”

“I am ready, my lord.”

He stared at her in silence, his hard gaze running from the top of her head to the toes of her soft leather boots.

“I have dressed as your page, my lord.”

“So I see.…” He took a step in her direction then stopped. “I came to… to tell you the penance you paid last eve was enough.” ’Twas the first time she had ever heard him falter.

“Oh no, my lord. You were more than just in your sentence. ’Tis only fair I serve as you commanded. If there is aught I might do before we leave, it would more than please me to do it.”

He settled his hands at his hips as he watched her, his face looking taut and strained. Ral leaned forward. “If you believe for one moment that I will allow you to leave this room wearing those clothes—”

“But you said—”

“I know only too well what I said.” Again he surveyed her, taking in the shape of her legs outlined by the tight-fitting hose.

“Please, my lord, I was so looking forward to a day in the forest.”

“No.”

“I promise I will please you.”

Ral pondered this last, caught by her eager expression, knowing full well how much the day must mean.

He tried to imagine how he might tactfully avoid the situation he had created, but his eyes kept straying to her shapely legs.

Her breasts rose and fell softly and wisps of flame dark hair peeked from beneath the rim of her brown felt hat.

When she bent to retrieve her sachel, Ral knew a surge of lust that made the blood pump hotly through his veins.

He wanted to rip off her snug boy’s clothes, to pull her down on the floor and drive himself inside her. He wanted to take her there and then, to pound into her again and again. By Christ he’d been a fool when he’d promised not to bed her.

He watched her face in the light of the candle, expectancy adding a glow to her lovely features. “’Tis not… not uncommon for a lady of your station to accompany her lord on the hunt.” She looked so hopeful he inwardly groaned. “I will see to the arrangements—while you change your clothes.”

“But—”

“Or you may remain here in your chamber. The choice is yours.”

Caryn sighed. “Aye, my lord. If it means I may go, I will do as you wish.”

“Do not dally. When you are ready, you may join me out in the bailey.”

Disgruntled at the change in his plans, Ral strode from his chamber down the passage that led to the stairs.

By the time he had reached the great hall, he discovered his dark mood had brightened and he was looking forward to the day ahead.

He would order a tentkeeper to accompany them, as well as a cook to see to a proper midday meal.

He would make the day a special one, something his little wife wouldn’t soon forget.

Besides, they had all been working hard of late; they deserved a day of pleasure.

Within the hour, as the sun rose over the horizon in a fan of orange and gold, Odo, Hugh, Lambert, Geoffrey, and a dozen of Ral’s best men rode beside him out of the castle.

Dressed in a simple velvet tunic of midnight blue beneath her cloak, Caryn rode the little gray palfry, and even Richard had been convinced to come along.

Ral had also brought his favorite hawk, Caesar. Hooded and regal, it perched atop the leather-covered shoulder of his squire. As they passed through a meadow leading into the mountains, Ral chanced a look at Caryn, whose smile looked even brighter than it had when they’d left the castle.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said.

A corner of his mouth curved up. “The day will be a long one. You may yet wish you had stayed behind.”

“Never, my lord.”

By late that morning, her joy still unfaded, Ral believed she meant it. She might be small, but she was a game little wench with plenty of heart—as he was soon to find out.

***

“’Tis a lovely day, is it not?” With Ral off scouting ahead, Caryn rode beside Odo.

“’Tis a bit chill and damp,” he said sullenly.

Caryn looked around her, seeing naught but the beauty of the forest, recalling the rich black soil of the high fertile valley they had just crossed, hearing the purr of a bog. The wind made a sighing sound as it passed through the tall green grasses alive with squirrels and birds.

“I would spend each of my days like this,” she said, “did I have a choice. Surrounded by alder, beech, and yew, the blue sky for my ceiling, fern and heather at my feet.”

Odo made a rude sound in his throat.