Page 47 of Bold Angel
“’Twould be a pleasure, my lord.” Settling his beefy frame on the stout oak bench across from where Ral sat in his high-backed chair, Hugh stretched his long legs out in front of him. “’Tis a while since we have sat together like this. Reminds me of our days back in Normandy.” A page brought pewter goblets filled with wine and each of them took a hearty swig.
“Normandy… aye,” Ral said. “We have known each other a good many years.”
“That is so, my lord.”
“Never have you divulged a confidence.”
Hugh eyed him shrewdly. “They could cut out my heart and still your secrets would be safe.”
“That is why I ask for your help, old friend.” Ral leaned forward and so did Hugh, anticipation plain on his scarred weathered face.
“You’ve a secret of some import, my lord? As I have said, they may—”
“’Tis nothing like that, my friend. What I would discuss is more personal in nature.” Across from him, the big knight’s wooly gray brows shot up, his curiositypiqued even more. “As a man very nearly my size, I thought you might be able to help me. You are older, and ’tis no secret the number of wenches you have bedded.”
Hugh laughed. “’Tis no exaggeration to say I have tupped more than my share. ’Twould be no lie to say the same of you.”
Ral grunted. “That is true, but in this I am a novice.”
Hugh crossed his arms over his thick barrel chest. “What would you know, my friend?”
“Mayhap I should start at the beginning.” Certain his secret was safe with Hugh, Ral told him the truth of his marriage, explaining why he had done what he had and reminding Hugh of the night three years past when they had found the two sisters in the meadow. He told him of Stephen de Montreale and the threat he had posed, explaining that Ral had wed his lady wife in order to keep her safe.
“So you have yet to bed her,” the big knight said.
“Nay, I have not, though ’tis a secret that must remain well guarded.”
Hugh nodded. “And now that it appears this may soon change, you worry that she is too small.”
“The part of me that will fill her is as big in proportion as the rest of me. Surely I will tear her in two.”
Hugh chuckled, his green eyes twinkling with mirth. “Your Caryn is far from frail. She is tiny, but solidly built. Have you not noticed how lush are her hips? Why they are broad enough to bear any man fine strong sons.”
“Aye, I’ve noticed.” Christ’s blood, he had seen the pale sweet curves of her flesh, felt the delicious firmness of her buttocks beneath his fingers.
“And her breasts,” Hugh said, “so round and full, ripe enough to fill even a big man’s hands. Surely that has not escaped your notice.”
“I’ve already said that I’ve noticed. For God’s sakes, man, I am not blind!”
Hugh grinned. “Blind you’ve ne’er been, ’tis only concern that gives you pause, and I mean to ease your fears.” Hugh leaned forward, his long-boned forearms coming to rest on his knees. “Your little wife is tiny, that is true. But a woman is built to accept a man, no matter how large or small. Your Caryn’s body will adjust to yours. She will take all of you inside her—of that you may be sure.”
Hugh smiled and stared into the fire pit, reliving some lusty memory of a vixen from his past. “Can you not imagine how small and tight her passage? How easily you could hold her, position her to receive your thrusts? Can you not think of the things you might do with a woman her size?”
Ral’s belly clenched. He could imagine, all right. Even now his mind swam with erotic images and his loins felt thick and heavy.
“If you have never thrust into a tiny woman, my friend,” Hugh said with a voice gone raspy, “then you have never lived.”
Ral’s hand shook on the stem of his goblet and several dark drops ran over the edge. “You are certain that I will not hurt her.”
“Only the first time. Be easy with her in the beginning, and her body will soon grow accustomed to yours.”
Ral nodded, battling the images that Hugh had created, praying the man spoke the truth. “My thanks, Hugh.”
Taking his cue that the subject was ended, Hugh set his goblet aside and stood up. “All this talk of women has made me as randy as a rutting boar. Methinks I will search out Bretta. That one has a passage that works like a mare munching oats.”
Ral chuckled at the notion as his friend walked away, then grimaced at the ache that throbbed low in his groin. Every muscle felt taut with need, and his bloodpumped thick and heavy. He glanced to the oaken door leading out to the bailey. Lynette had already retired. If he went to her now, all would be forgiven and she would welcome him into her bed.
He was tempted. Sorely tempted. But something held him back. Instead, he turned toward the stairs and his bed in the solar. Another night of solitude was hardly what he had in mind, yet something told him the reward he sought would well be worth it.
