“That night I did. But here and now, and with all memory of our previous embrace apparently absent from your mind,youkissedme.”
Relieved that they had only shared a kiss, yet dismayed that he had done that much, he forced himself to laugh. “God save you, Lady Beatrice, you make far too much of a kiss, which tells me just how ignorant a maiden you are. Now go home to Tregellas and take your romantic fancies with you. Love is not a tale told by troubadours or minstrels.”
Instead of fleeing the chamber as he’d hoped, her brows lowered and her eyes flashed. “Do you think I don’t understand the difference between minstrels’ songs and real life? Of course I do—because the love they sing about so often leads to disaster, for one thing, and that doesn’t always happen in real life. Look at Constance and Merrick if you wish an example. Would you say their love is doomed to fail?”
“I will grant that, in some instances, love does last,” he replied, “but that sort of true love is more rare than minstrels would have us believe. In any case, this overheated affection you apparently have for me isn’t love. It’s nothing more than a maiden’s moonstruck fancy.”
Her sharp, bright eyes held his. “That only tells me how little you know of my heart, Ranulf,” she said as she walked toward him. “And if you believe what I feel for you is ridiculous, why then did you kiss me?”
He began to back away. “I was attempting to show you what can happen when an innocent, ignorant young woman allows herself to be alone with a man.”
She regarded him with blatant skepticism. “You chose an interesting method of instruction. Did it never cross your mind, sir knight, that your embrace might have the opposite effect, and rather serve to make me crave your kisses more?”
Oh, God, he was caught in a trap, and one of his own making.
“Fortunately,” she said, coming to a halt at last, “I know full well you’re not a fiendish rogue. You’re an honorable knight, the trusted friend of my cousin’s husband. No woman need ever be afraid of you.”
God help him! She shouldn’t be making him feel proud, trusted and valued. She was supposed to be shocked, horrified and appalled.
“That kiss we shared in Tregellas was not the first time I realized you felt more than mere friendly affection for me. What about Christmas, Ranulf, when we very nearly kissed? Will you tell me now you didn’t want me then?”
He flushed, cursed his weakness and planted his feet, crossing his arms as he tried to act nonchalant. “I suppose I might have been momentarily addled by the mulled wine that night.”
“You weren’t drunk, Ranulf. You’d barely had any wine at all.”
Oh, Lord.
He steeled himself to answer as he must, although the lies fairly curdled on his tongue. “I admit I contemplated a kiss that night to see how you’d react. However, any kisses we’ve shared since, as well as your willingness to put yourself at the mercy of a man’s desire, have only shown me that I was right to think you’re much too young and inexperienced to be trusted around men. As for any unfortunate fantasies my actions have caused you to entertain, let me assure you that my taste doesn’t run toward moonstruck maidens. I will not kiss you again.”
She tilted her head and searched his face, as if she would see into his very heart and expose the secrets he sought to hide. “What’s the matter, Ranulf? Why are you saying such things?Why are you so afraid to admit that you want me? Is it because another woman once broke your heart?”
Shocked, he stiffened and had to fight not to betray his dismay. “I’ve never spoken of such a woman.”
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist,” Bea returned. “That’s why you’re pushing me away, isn’t it? You don’t want to be hurt again. You’d rather reject what I offer without giving me—givingus—a chance.”
She had no idea of the pain she was causing, the long-buried memories she was summoning to the surface of his mind—memories that only served to remind him more strongly why he must not take what Bea, in her youthful inexperience and purity, offered him.
He glared at her and answered harshly, determined to push her away, for her own good. “Have you been stricken deaf, or are you being wilfully stupid?” he demanded. “How many times and in how many ways must I tell you that I don’t want to be the object of your silly, girlish fantasies?”
Still she didn’t look away, but continued to regard him steadily. “Is it because I’m the daughter of a traitor then?”
He flinched, for his reaction had nothing at all to do with her father. “Your father’s crime is his shame, not yours.”
“I promise you, Ranulf, that although my father betrayed his king, I would never betray you.”
He believed her, and that was another reason to drive her away. He didn’t deserve such loyalty from a woman, not after what he’d done.
Determined to make her see that her cause was hopeless, for so it must be, he took hold of her shoulders and stared into her eyes, which were sparkling like blue diamonds. “Listen to me, Beatrice, and get this through your head. You’re nothing but a foolish girl with a head full of romantic fancies. Granted, you’re a pretty little thing, and your kiss was not without some merit,but pretty women who kiss as well as you are easy enough to find. If and when I take a wife, I want a woman of maturity and experience in my bed, not some green girl. I don’t wantyouand I never will.”
The truth, or such as he wanted her to believe, finally hit home, and it was like watching an innocent, wild creature perish. He had seen death before. God forgive him, he had killed men himself. But that was different from watching Bea’s heart break before his very eyes—to see the light and spirit in her shining eyes dim, and pain bloom where before there had been trust, affection, happiness and hope.
Had he looked like that when Celeste had told him she was marrying Lord Fontenbleu? Had Celeste felt the same shame and remorse? Did she silently curse herself and wish herself dead for what she’d done?
He steeled himself for Bea’s tears, which did not come. She straightened, tall and slender, as poised as a princess, while regarding him with haughty dignity. It was as if a changeling had swooped in and taken his little Lady Bea, replacing her with a woman of power and majesty who took his breath away.
“I’m seeing to your comfort at the behest of Constance and your overlord,” she said with calm composure. “It’s my duty to do what they sent me to do, the same way you do your duty to Merrick and the king. Whether I’m welcome or not, and whether you want me to or not, I shall fulfill that duty for as long as I’m able until you force me to leave.”
Then she swept out of the chamber and left him.
