Page 56 of Bold Angel
Blessed Virgin, what should I do?
A brief knock sounded, making her jump, and Marta walked in. The older woman looked frail but resigned, not nearly as undone as Caryn. “Lord Ral sent me to attend you.”
“Marta—thank God you have come.” She went into the small woman’s arms and they tightened briefly around her. “I am frightened. I have never seen him so angry.”
Marta set her away. “Can you blame him? You have made him look the fool.”
“I did not mean to.”
Marta harrumphed. “Turn around.” Working by habit, she began to strip off Caryn’s clothes, removing hertunic and the chainse she wore beneath, leaving on just her linen camise.
“’Twas a foolish thing you did,” Marta said on a sigh. “But at least ’twill put an end to your problem.”
Caryn’s head came up. “My problem? What do you mean?”
The old woman smiled, deepening the lines at the corners of her mouth. “Has it not been your wish to become Lord Ral’s wife in truth?”
“Aye, but—”
“This night your wish will be granted.”
She digested that for a while. Indeed, it was what she had wanted. “But he is so angry.”
“’Tis the price you must pay for your foolishness.”
It was hard to argue with that. She hadn’t thought how Ral would feel, how it would look to his men. Of course, she had hoped he wouldn’t find out.
“’Twill hurt you some,” Marta said. “Lord Ral is a very big man.”
Caryn felt an uneasy chill. “Bretta told me what must occur.”
“Try to sooth his temper. ’Twill go the easier, should he be gentle.”
Caryn nodded. Soothing the dark Norman’s mood was never an easy task. “I will try.”
Marta led her to the table against the wall, picked up the bristle brush and stroked it through Caryn’s long auburn hair. It calmed her some, as Marta meant it to, her smooth strokes even as she fanned the heavy mass around her shoulders. Then she set the brush back down on the table.
“’Twill only increase his ire, should you keep him waiting.”
Caryn nodded, more uncertain by the moment. Nervously wetting her lips, she tried not to think what would happen once Marta had gone.
“He is a good man,” the old woman said. “No matterwhat happens, do not forget that.” Marta left the room, her footsteps slowly fading, and Caryn’s worry increased.
She started to pace, but in less time than it took to cross the floor, the latch flew up on the door and her tall dark husband strode in. He had bathed, she saw; his thick black hair curled damply at the back of his simple brown tunic. He looked as handsome as he always did, as proud and determined—and not an ounce of his anger had faded.
“I wondered would you try to escape. Had you, I would have dragged you back in here by the hair of your head.”
Caryn swallowed hard. “I did not wish to escape.”
“Oh?” A bold black brow arched upward. “I should think a wife who betrays her husband would hardly wish to bed him.”
A heaviness settled in her chest. “I did not think to betray you.”
Ral ignored her words as if she hadn’t spoken, but a muscle jumped in his cheek. “Where I am from, we sleep in naught. Remove your garment so that I may see you.”
The heaviness grew, becoming a sharp-edged pain. When she just stood there, staring into the handsome face now twisted with malice, Ral stepped forward. His fingers bit into the soft linen fabric and he ripped the gown down the front. “I said remove it!”
She did as he said with trembling fingers, letting the gown pool softly at her feet, leaving her naked, keeping her head held high and willing herself not to weep.
