He laughed and held her close. “God preserve you, Bea, you are too clever for me!”
“Since I’m staying, may I come to you tonight?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.
“I probably shouldn’t let you, but I fear I, too, have grown wanton after such a night of bliss with my Lady Beatrice. I want more. If you think you can come here undetected, you’ll find me waiting.”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised. “Now I’d better go before Maloren wakes.”
She left Ranulf’s warm embrace and picked up her discarded bed robe. She drew it on, and then bundled up her damp shift while he went to the door and cautiously opened it. After checking the corridor, he moved out of the way for her to pass.
“Until tonight, I hope, beloved Bea,” he said, giving her a kiss and caress.
“Until tonight, my love,” she whispered before she hurried down the corridor and slipped inside her chamber.
Where Maloren waited, wide-awake, with her arms akimbo and murder in her eye.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“WELL, MY LAMB?” she demanded as Bea quickly closed the door behind her lest Maloren rouse the entire castle in her rage. “Just where have you been?”
“Washing my shift,” Bea replied, which wasn’t precisely a lie.
“In the middle of the night?”
Bea was seriously tempted to tell an outright falsehood, to make up a story about falling from the bed and reopening a wound in her hand so that it bled on her shift. But Maloren would want to see the cut, to wash and tend to it anew.
“I was with Ranulf,” Bea admitted as she set the damp shift on her dressing table.
She cringed as Maloren threw up her hands in horror and cried, “Oh, my poor lamb! You didn’t! Not after— how could you? That scoundrel! That blackguard!”
“Maloren, listen to me,” she said quietly, regarding her surrogate mother with steadfast resolve. “He’s not evil incarnate, nor did he seduce me. I went to him willingly and without an invitation. He tried to send me away, but I wouldn’t go. I love him. I’ll always love him. He’s a man who sinned and feels terrible remorse for what he did, but he’s good and kind and honorable, and I’m going to be his wife.”
“Wife!” Maloren gasped. She felt for the dressing table, then sat heavily on the stool, staring at Bea as if she’d just announced she was a ghost.
“Wife,” Bea confirmed as she went to her former nursemaid and took Maloren’s hands in hers, regarding her with the love of a daughter who hates to disappoint her mother but knows that, this once at least, she must. “I love him, and he loves me, and we’re going to be married.”
“Married!”
“Yes, married,” Bea repeated, still determined, although she was sad that Maloren didn’t share her joy. “I know he’s done bad things. Believe me, Maloren, so does he—none better. He doesn’t claim to be innocent. He’s confessed everything to me, and with such heartfelt remorse, you would call him noble and more than worthy of my love if you had heard him, too.”
“Was he kissing that woman?” Maloren demanded.
“Of that he’s innocent,” Bea answered. “Because I love you like a mother, Maloren, I’m going to tell you what Ranulf has told me about his past. You aren’t going to like it, but it will be the truth. And know you this, Maloren, despite what he’s done, I respect and admire and love him.”
Bea would have no more secrets, no more hidden past, no rumors to rise up to plague their future. She would have Maloren understand Ranulf as she did, and forgive him, as she did. Surely Merrick, who had kept a serious secret for fifteen long years, would understand, too, and remain true to his friend. Constance would no doubt agree that Ranulf was a finer, better man than he had been in his youth. He had done wrong and suffered and learned from his mistakes.
Bea told Maloren about the death of Ranulf’s brother, and the wager that he’d made. As she’d expected, and to judge by the occasional hiss Maloren made, her former nursemaid was upset to hear these things. But better they should come from me, Bea reasoned, than for Maloren to hear them from another source.
When Bea finished her explanation, Maloren jumped to her feet. “That…that…!”
“You must understand why he did those things,” Bea said quickly, determined to calm her. “He was hurt and he—”
“Him?” Maloren retorted. “It’s that brother of his, drowning his poor dog! I’d like to get my hands on that lout myself! I’d give him more than a drowning!”
“Then you…you forgive Ranulf?” Bea asked hopefully.
“Are you mad? Forgive him? For seducing all those girls and taking my lamb’s virginity without marriage or betrothal? I should say not!”
Maloren’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t blame you, my lamb. I don’t doubt he said some very pretty things and that he’s a fine lover, too, with that body and those eyes. He could probablylooka woman into his bed, that one.”
