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His hand went still, then it settled against her heart. “Even now your blood pounds. Do you still deny you want me?”

A soft sound of pain escaped. “My body may desire you but my heart does not.”

He swore a savage oath. “Then the plunder of your body will have to be enough.” With those harsh words he set to work, laying siege to her flesh as if she were some stalwart castle.

His mouth took hers in a blazing kiss that left her dizzy. His hands cupped her breasts, kneading and molding until each rosy crest grew hard against his palm. She could feel the rasp of the whiskers along his jaw, feel the rough hair on his chest, and the hardness of his manroot.

Though she willed it not to, beneath his skillful touch, her body grew languid and responsive, her heart beating wildly, the blood thick and heavy in her veins.

Still, a part of her remained aloof, as if she watched what went on, but did not join in all that happened.

She felt safe from this distance, able to accept his fiery caresses without giving him her soul as she had before.

Ral parted her legs with his knee and his finger slid inside her. He stroked her there until she was wet with desire for him, on fire and blazing with need. Then he settled his hardness against her, eased himself in, and buried himself to the hilt.

“So sweet,” he whispered. “How I have missed these times.”

Caryn arched against him, taking all of his thick length, feeling the sensual glide, the hot tingling sensations, and his heavy masculine need. In minutes she was arching her body, meeting each of his powerful thrusts, and yet.…

It seemed as if something were missing, something elemental that had called out to her before, but this time remained elusive.

“I cannot wait much longer,” he said, surging into her hard and deep, urging her onward. “It has been far too long.”

Still, he was determined and he pounded into her fiercely. Another time she would have responded, let the wild tide of pleasure carry her off. Another, sweeter time in the past.…

As hot and damp as her body was, as much as she shivered with fiery sensations, Caryn did not reach the shimmering plateau.

Instead she felt Ral stiffen, felt the spilling of his seed.

He lay spent and unmoving atop her, drenched in sweat, his heartbeat only now beginning to slow.

When he rolled away, his face looked grim.

Caryn said nothing. For the first time she realized whatever had been missing for her, Ral had been sensing, too.

She felt his withdrawal and wanted to touch him, to give him ease in some way. She did not. “I am sorry if I did not please you.”

Ral said nothing. Instead he rose from the bed and dressed with stiff, uneven motions.

When he had finished, he walked to the door without looking back, jerked it open, and stalked out into the hall.

She heard his movements next door in the solar, heard him pull the wine cork from its flask and take a drink, and knew she would spend yet another night alone.

Feeling small and forlorn in her husband’s big bed, the linens still warm from his body, Caryn touched the place he had lain, empty now and soon to grow cold. And then she started to weep.

***

“What is it you want, old woman?”

Marta stepped into the solar. “I would have a moment, Lord Ral.”

“Can you not see that I am busy? Speak your mind and leave me in peace.”

Busy he was not, she knew. He sat in the solar brooding, snapping at the servants, making only rare appearances in the hall.

“’Tis not like you to be so ill-tempered. Your estrangement from your wife does not appear to suit you.”

The Norman’s head came up. “What would you know of what suits me?”

“I know that since the night of the feasting you have been unhappy and so has she. I know that you went to your leman. That your Caryn cannot forgive you. I know why you did it.”

“You know nothing.” But he did not send her away. Marta moved closer, until she stood in front of the table. “I know the truth of your betrothal.”

On the opposite side of the heavy oak planking, Lord Ral straightened in his chair. “What truth?”

“There is only one thing to gain from growing old and feeble. Only one thing, and that is wisdom.”

“You speak in riddles like the jester, old woman.”

“No one pays attention to one such as me. Our bones are old and brittle. ’Tis our way to move slowly, to be unobtrusive, to make our way among the shadows.”

“Get to the point,” he snapped.

“I know of the unnatural bond between Lord Stephen and his sister. I saw him go into her room.”

Lord Ral eyed her coldly. On the surface he appeared calm, but a muscle jumped in his cheek. “What Stephen does means nothing to me.”

“Not now, mayhap. But there was a time when it meant a great deal.”

The Dark Knight said nothing.

“’Twas the reason you broke your betrothal.” She took a brittle step forward. “You discovered their secret, just as I have. It sickened you… and frightened you. You could not imagine a man as strong as Stephen, a man of so much power, being brought to his knees by a woman.”

“He has lost his soul.”

“At least a dozen times over.” Marta assessed him shrewdly, noting the lines of fatigue in the hard planes of his face.

“It can happen, as you have seen, but your Caryn is not Eliana. She is not evil, nor does she seek to drain your will. She only means to lend you some of her strength, as any good wife would do.”

The Norman pushed back his chair, the sound grating in the emptiness of the room. He strode over to the narrow slit of window. “Bedding my leman is my right. I have done nothing any other man would not do.”

“You are not any other man. And she is not any other woman.”

Lord Ral shifted uneasily, raking a hand through his thick black hair, driving it back from his forehead. “You do not understand.”

“I understand that you have special feelings for her. That you are frightened by those feelings. I also know that there is no need for you to be afraid.”

“There is very little I am afraid of. ”

“That is so, my lord. You are strong and brave. That is why you must seek out your destiny, then be unafraid to claim it.”

The tall dark Norman stared a moment out into the bailey. The clash and clank of sword and shield drifted up from the practice yard. He turned away from the sounds and crossed the room to stand before her.

“I will think on what you have said. That is all I can promise. Even then I am not certain that it will matter.”

Marta rasped out a slightly grating sound. “’Tis certain, Lord Ral, that it will matter.” She turned and walked away.