Page 70 of Bold Angel
The graying man spoke to him in whispered, furtive tones and pointed toward a woman named Tayte, who traveled as his leman. He laughed crudely and Ral laughed with him. Then the two of them left the dais and strode off among the men drinking and gaming in the hall.
Caryn watched them go, feeling a knot in the pit of her stomach. Ral spoke harshly of the Lady Eliana, yet since her arrival, his manner had grown even more withdrawn. He seemed different this eve, aloof from her as he never had been before. She saw the way his eyes ran over de Balmain’s leman, a winsome woman with long nut-brown hair. He was blatantly admiring her curves, smiling and laughing at something she said.
A few moments later, he stood beside Odo, who also seemed amused by the tax collector’s whore. They laughed together, refilled their goblets and crossed to the fire pit. When Tayte moved away on Francois’s arm, Caryn breathed a sigh of relief.
Then Lynette strolled up beside Ral. They began to speak in whispers, and Caryn’s stomach grew taut once more.
Sweet God, what goes on?She had never seen him this way, not even before they were married. ’Twas as if she were not there, as if he purposely ignored her. It made her hands tremble and her throat close up. When he left Lynette and crossed the hall to Richard, relief swept over her like a wave.
Do not be a fool,she chided, forcing down her fears.Ral is your husband now.She thought of the moments she had spent in his arms, the gentle way he had held her, the passion they had shared.’Tis only that he chafes at Malvern’s presence, and that of the sister. ’Twill be as it was, the moment they are gone.
Confident once more, Caryn played her role as lady with a smile for one and all. Still, as the evening wore on, she saw little of her husband and finally she grewweary. Eliana had retired and so had Lord Stephen. She sought Ral out and found him near the stairs.
“I would retire, my lord. Most of our guests have already done so. ’Tis certain I will not be missed by the few who yet remain.”
Ral merely nodded.
“Will you be long, my lord?”
“I am not certain. ’Tis best you do not wait up.”
For a moment she felt uneasy, then he smiled at her, making her insides flutter, and her worry slid away.
“Good night, my lord,” but already he was deep in conversation. Walking toward the stairs, Caryn glanced around for Lynette, saw that she was gone from the hall, and gave in to a feeling of relief.
Chapter Fourteen
“Marta, have you seen Lord Ral?” Caryn dressed quickly, though the sun was barely up, carefully choosing a pretty apple green tunic over a soft yellow chainse.
The old woman turned in her direction. Aging, spotted hands went up to Caryn’s hair, smoothing it away from her face. “He will return soon, you must not worry, my pet.”
The look of concern on Marta’s face spiraled Caryn’s unease higher. “He did not sleep here last eve. He must have fallen asleep in the solar.”
“’Tis certain that is so,” Marta said, but her worried eyes darted away and Caryn’s stomach turned over.
“Tell me, Marta. You know all that takes place in the castle. If you know something of my husband, you must tell me.”
“’Tis not my place to carry tales.”
“Please,” Caryn whispered, clutching the old woman’s hand.
Marta’s thin shoulders sagged as though she carried some great burden. She wrung her hands and made a sighing sound of despair.
“Marta?”
“I had thought that he was different, that he would not hurt you. I had wrongly believed…”
“Tell me!”
“Your husband has returned to his leman.”
“No! I do not believe it! Ral would not do such a thing.”
“It is the way of men. I had hoped that Lord Ral was different.”
“He is different,” Caryn said. “He is brave and strong… he is gentle.” Even as she said the words, a sob caught in her throat. She swayed toward Marta, her eyes beginning to tear, then she whirled toward the door. Her hair still unbound, Caryn lifted her bright green skirts and raced from the room, Marta’s thin voice calling out behind her.
Her heart racing wildly, her chest taut with fear, she ran down the stairs past a score of sleeping men. Jerking open the heavy oaken door that led out to the bailey, she ran barefoot down to the muddy yard.
