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“You may be certain that is so.”

“Then take her, mon ami. Plant a babe in the wench’s belly. A man needs heirs, my friend.”

Ral sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“That may be so. I will give it some thought.” Sweet Christ, he had done little else.

Thoughts of the fiery little maid near drove him crazy.

Now that he knew why she had denied him, his desire for her had increased tenfold.

Still, the choice was hers. He had made a promise—he would not take her unless it was her wish.

He raked a hand through his hair. Mayhap in truth ’twould be best if it did not happen.

She was less than half his size and it was certain he would hurt her.

Though his own pleasure would be great, she was unschooled in the ways of men and he was unsure he could please her.

Most likely he would do ought but give her pain.

Besides, for now it did not matter. He had Lynette to warm his bed. She could give his body ease as well as any, far better than most of the wenches he had known. He glanced toward the door that led to her quarters in the bailey. She would be expecting him and yet…

Turning away from the door, he climbed the stairs leading up to the solar and instructed his squire to make him a bed. Once the lad had helped him strip off his garments, he settled himself in for the evening.

Lynette would be angry, but what did it matter? It wasn’t Lynette he wanted. Ral frowned into the darkness, thinking of Caryn and wondering how he could possibly consider bedding one so small.

***

Caryn paced the bedchamber, which now that Ral had gone, seemed empty, barren, and cold. She had never really noticed how large the room was, how wide the big bed, how masculine the objects—bows, shields, and swords—that lined the walls.

This was the lord’s room, the huge dark Norman who was her husband. And yet he was not there.

Caryn’s stomach twisted. Again this eve, he would spend the night with his leman, driven away from his rightful place in her bed by a promise he had made and, it appeared, even now intended to keep.

Or was that exactly what he wanted? The tall willowy blonde was far more beautiful than Caryn, nearly as lovely as Gweneth.

Which of them was the woman Ral wanted? His leman?

His wife? Or his wife’s far more beautiful sister?

Caryn would never forget the look on the Dark Knight’s face as he had stared into Gweneth’s crystal blue eyes that day in the meadow.

It was because of Gweneth that he had married her in the first place.

Because of Gweneth and the guilt he felt for what had happened.

Ral knew her sister could never leave the convent, but mayhap his heart still yearned for her.

With her elegant beauty, her sweetness and serenity, Gweneth was as different from Caryn as the moon was from the sun.

And if not Gweneth, what of Lynette? Her grace and beauty affected men wherever she passed. Ral had been with her for the past two years, had brought her here from France. Would he be willing to give her up? Caryn did not know and part of her was afraid to find out.

Still, it was she who was his wife, she who was meant to share his nights in the marriage bed.

She thought of him now, of the times he had kissed her, the things he had made her feel.

Do you never want children? he had once asked.

It was a question she had rarely considered.

Now it ate at her. Children meant grave responsibilities—and an end to the freedom that she had always longed for.

She couldn’t imagine herself in the role of mother, yet the thought of a lifetime without a family of her own left her feeling bleak and empty.

Caryn shivered against a sudden chill and walked to the window to pull the thin horn slab back into place. Her husband might not love her, but he desired her. If she asked him, he would share her bed and make her his wife in truth.

Make theirs a marriage in truth.

It was what Caryn wanted, she realized with a sudden jolt of clarity.

She wanted Ral to act as husband, but she didn’t know quite how to ask.

What did a woman say of such things? What should she do?

She wasn’t Lynette, with her wanton ways and petulant glances.

And even if she tried it, she might fail.

What if Ral refused her? She didn’t think he would but she wanted more from him than a single night of passion. What if he accepted her overtures, took her to his bed and she did not please him? What if he returned to his leman, as the servants believed had happened the night of their wedding ?

It was risky, this course taking shape in her mind, but her happiness, her future, seemed more and more to depend upon it.

For the first time, Caryn smiled. She had always been a willing pupil.

She loved to learn and she remembered the lessons she had been taught.

She would start with her friend, the kitchen maid, Bretta.

The buxom lass was not in the least bit shy about her skills in pleasuring a man; surely she would share that knowledge with Caryn.

Marta would help in whatever way she could.

She had been urging Caryn to mend the breach with her husband since the night of the wedding.

And there was Isolda, the healing woman in the village.

The old woman prided herself on her love philters, charms, and aphrodisiacs.

With Isolda’s help, Marta’s, and the knowledge garnered from Bretta, she would make Ral wild for her.

Caryn left the window and climbed up in bed, her smile now firmly in place. If Lynette could learn to please him, so could she. Tomorrow she would start her lessons. Soon she would bait her trap, settle back, and wait for her tall, dark Norman to take the bait.