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“Nay, milady, ’tis not of your man I speak, but of the deed itself.” She winked and flashed a bawdy big-toothed grin. “’Tweren’t for fear o’ me belly growin’ round, I’d be tossin’ up me skirts far more often.”

Caryn felt the heat burning into her cheeks.

Focusing her questions on how to attract a man instead of what would happen once she did, she listened as Bretta spoke of smiling and touching, how to walk seductively, and the use of subtle innuendos to signal a man of her interest. Since everyone believed Ral preferred his leman to his wife, Bretta understood Caryn’s motives and heartily approved.

“Ye husband belongs in ye bed, milady, not in that o’ his coldhearted strumpet.”

Still, belonging there and getting him there seemed two far different things.

***

Ral sat beside Caryn on the dais, hearing her soft feminine laughter, feeling her shoulder brush his as she bantered lightly in his ear. She smiled sweetly, seemingly amused at something he said, working hard to amuse him in return.

Her movements were womanly, seductive, their meaning as unmistakable as they had been throughout the ages. In the past few days, Ral had seen his lady wife use them often, mastering the gestures far too easily to suit him, stirring a response in his body and a desire he could barely contain.

Caryn’s breast brushed his arm and the blood pumping hotly through his veins grew thick and sluggish, his heartbeat slowing, throbbing, matching the heavy ache that had settled in his groin.

Had Caryn been the woman of experience she pretended, she would have seen through his mask of indifference, seen the hunger for her that he worked so hard to disguise.

“You wear a new gown this eve,” he said mildly, wishing the meal would come to an end, wondering if tonight he would give in to his passions and take her. Or if he would wait as he had planned, play the game she had started, let the desire she fostered in him build a fire in her as well.

“Does it please you, my lord?” A dark ruby tunic over a chainse of alabaster silk that brought out the rich red highlights in her hair .

“The color favors your complexion. You have chosen well.”

She smiled. “More wine, my lord?” She had seen his goblet refilled several times, and he wondered if her plans included getting him drunk.

“It tastes a little bitter this eve, but ’tis no matter, I’ve had enough. I face a long day on the morrow.” He had no intention of taking her without being sober and firmly in control. He vowed he would not hurt her and to keep that vow, he would needs go slow.

“Since it appears you are finished with your meal,” she said, “mayhap you would favor me with a game of chess.”

He arched a brow. “I did not know that you played.”

“There is much of me you do not know, my lord.” She flashed a saucy smile, exposing a row of small white teeth.

Ral’s own teeth clamped against a spasm of pain in the hardened flesh beneath the table. He forced himself to relax. “A game before we are for bed might be just the thing to help me sleep.” By Christ, what a lie that was! Naught but tossing up the lady’s skirts would ensure a night of peace.

He smiled inwardly, enjoying the game in spite of his discomfort, hoping in the end that both of them would win.

They sat down across from each other at the chessboard.

Caryn pondered the board and moved a pawn out two spaces.

It wouldn’t take long to defeat her, he was certain, since the game was one of strategy, much like plotting a great battle.

He had yet to meet a woman who could grasp the concept of war well enough to be much of a challenge.

He wasn’t saying that several hours later, when the board had been cleared of a goodly number of pieces and his tall black chessmen stood no closer to defeating the white than they had when he had started. Of course, she was no nearer to victory than he was.

“You are a difficult opponent, my lord.” She moved her bishop, fashioned from the tusk of a walrus, blocking his move to capture her queen.

He smiled. “You could always let me win.”

Caryn glanced up at him, her expression surprised. Then she frowned. “I hadn’t thought that you would wish it.” She looked as if she had failed in some way and it dawned on him that whoever had been teaching her the art of seduction had failed to mention this particular ploy.

“If you believed that I would not enjoy winning unless it was against a worthy opponent, then you thought correctly. I have enjoyed our playing this eve, more than I ever would have guessed.”

She beamed at that, her face looking young and radiant in the glowing embers of the fire. She was lovely beyond belief and growing more so with each passing day.

“I am glad that I have pleased you.”

“It would please me more should I defeat you, but not because you let me.”

She seemed happy to hear she had guessed right and attacked the board with an even greater fervor. In the end, the game went stalemate. Ral laughed good-naturedly and told her he would best her when next they played. Caryn vowed it would be she who was the victor.

Ral thought that if losing the game to his pretty little wife would see him settled in her bed, he might be tempted to lose on purpose himself.

He glanced toward the stairs. “’Tis time that we are for bed.” He looked at Caryn, careful to keep his expression bland. Something flickered in her eyes, then it was gone.

Say it, he silently commanded. Tell me I am welcome in your bed. He could take her. It was obvious she would let him. But he wanted her committed. He wanted her to admit she was ready for a marriage in truth. He wanted her to desire him with the same hot passion that he desired her.

And he believed his indifference was working.

“You are tired, my lord?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve received no news of the outlaws. We will hunt on the morrow to replenish our stores, and I would be well rested.” He took her hand and placed it on his arm then guided her up the steep stone stairs.

“You have taken to sleeping in the solar,” she said softly. “You are certain your pallet there will suffice?”

Not nearly as well as a place between your shapely little legs.

“’Twill serve well enough for the present.

” He had never used this particular technique in order to attract a woman, yet with Caryn, instinctively he knew it was his very indifference that would ensure his success.

The less he responded, the harder she would work to make him do so.

His Caryn liked to win at whatever game she played.

He stopped in front of her door, turned her into his arms, and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss yet it burned with an underlying heat. It took iron control for him to pull away. In a day or two, he hoped, there would be no need for such restraint.

“Good eventide, my lady.”

“G-Good eventide, my lord.” Her hand trembled as she lifted the latch, opened the door, and went in.

Smiling to himself, Ral turned and walked down the hall toward the solar. Caryn of Ivesham wasn’t the only one who liked to win.

***

“Milady? Milady, where are you? I bring urgent news from the village.”

“In here, Leofric,” she called from the corner of the stable where she sat cradling the fawn in her lap. The little deer grew stronger and bigger every day. “What is it?”

The young boy raced in, his face flushed with exertion, his narrow chest heaving in and out. “News of the brigands, milady. Me mother has been tryin’ to discover where they camp. She wishes to repay Lord Raolfe for his kindness.”

Caryn gently set the fawn away and climbed to her feet, brushing straw from her tunic and plucking a strand from her heavy braid of hair. “Lord Ral hunts today. He won’t return before nightfall.”

“I could carry a message.”

“I know not where he is. You must tell me, Leofric. I will see he receives the news the moment of his arrival.”

“Me mother says they camp near the pass at Chevrey, on a bend of the River Eden. They lie in wait for the king’s tax collector. No one knows exactly when he comes, but the Ferret means to raid him and steal King William’s coin.”

“Surely the money will be well guarded.”

“Me mother says the band has grown to near fifty men. They were raidin’ to the north, but of late they have returned.”

Fifty men! Surely enough to pose a danger to William’s men—or her husband and his. Caryn’s stomach knotted.

“They’re cutthroats, milady. A dozen good knights and men-at-arms have already fallen to the Ferret’s blade.”

Unconsciously, she trembled. “Mayhap this time Lord Ral will catch him.”

“Aye, milady, ’tis certain the lord will bring them in.”

Surely a man of her husband’s might and skill would be in no danger. Yet Leo’s words of warning still echoed in her ears. “I will tell Lord Ral your mother’s news the moment he returns to the castle.”

“I wish I could go with him.”

I am glad that you cannot, Caryn found herself thinking. And with that disturbing thought, worry for her husband suddenly increased.

***

Caryn paced the hall in front of the fire pit.

Ral should have returned by now. Richard had seen to an extra hearty meal and even now it sat steaming in the kitchen.

She turned as the door flew open and Girart walked in.

Ral never left the castle unguarded. Today he had also left the majority of his men.

They were to rest this day and set out in search of the outlaws on the morrow.

Hearing noises in the entry, she hurried in that direction. “Lord Ral?” Caryn asked of Girart.

“Nay, my lady.”

Richard strode in behind him, his face looking grim. “’Tis Stephen de Montreale.”

Malvern. “Sweet God in heaven.” Lord Stephen was the last man Caryn wished to see—especially with her husband gone from the castle. “Must we allow him entrance?”

“’Tis only common courtesy. He travels with but a handful of men. We can hardly refuse him a night’s food and lodging.”