Defy Not the Heart by Johanna Lindsey Page B

the events of the morning, or, more specifically, over what he had felt when he saw the lady up on that horse.
    She in no way looked like a lady with that cloud of raven locks flowing down her back and over her shoulders, whipping about her hips. The too short shift had become shorter still, revealing legs that should have been spindly on a woman so narrow of build, yet were too shapely by half, and longer than he would have imagined them to be. Or was it that he saw so much of them?
    She sat the horse with shoulders thrown back, head high, with a skill no doubt learned from the cradle, and while she galloped across the camp, she had appeared beautiful somehow, when he knew very well she was not; but more bewildering than that, she had aroused his lust.
    ’Twas no doubt because he had seen that breast of hers. No, that in itself had not done it. He had seentoo many breasts for one to fire his blood just because it happened to be staring him in the face. And yet that single moon-white globe of hers was different. ’Twas barely a handful, though quite perfect in shape, without the slightest droop to it, as was common with larger breasts. But it was the rose nipple that made it unique, so large for such a small shape, and so sensitive! His mouth had gone dry when he saw it pucker as it was scraped by the cloth. After that, to see her with her legs spread wide in the saddle was enough to inflame his senses to lust.
    And yet he still could not understand why, when she was everything he did not like, and he was horrified that it had happened at all.
    He stole glances at her all day where she sat in the supply cart, just to make sure that, since she was completely clothed, there was nothing about her that was desirous, and there was not. Covered from head to toe, she was the lady again, prim and stiff, wrapped up in haughty pride, and shooting venom at him whenever their eyes should meet.
    And that was another thing that aggravated his fury. Why had he not been able to intimidate the tiny shrew into giving him no trouble? He had certainly given it his best effort. Grown men quivered like jelly when he turned his wrath on them, yet not her. She threw insults at him whilst she was within his reach. No one, no one , had ever dared such a thing before.
    “Do we stop at the abbey again, Ranulf?” Walter said as he rode up next to him. “’Tis just ahead.”
    “Nay, not with the little general among us.”
    “The little—oho. Her. But she can be left in the camp whilst we—”
    “And let her get to another horse with no one tostop her next time? Nay, I am not letting her far from my sight or hearing, though the latter is like to drive me crazy.”
    Walter chuckled, recalling what he had overheard before Ranulf had sent the lady back into the tent. “She does have a forceful way with words.”
    “You heard only a small sampling.”
    “Know you, then, what she meant about Rothwell stealing a fortune?”
    “She claims he has no right to her, that he is not nor ever was her betrothed.”
    “Did you not have that doubt yourself from Rothwell’s craftiness?”
    “It matters not,” Ranulf replied stubbornly. “We are not being paid to discern who has what rights.”
    “But—God’s wounds, Ranulf! Do you not realize what that means? If the old man has no true claim to her, why give her to him? you have her. Why not keep her yourself?”
    “Bite your tongue!” Ranulf snarled, horrified. “I want no lady to wife, least of all that one.”
    “Not even for Clydon?”
    For a fraction of a second, Ranulf hesitated, but that was all. “Not even if she offered the whole kingdom.”
    “Clydon is just as nice,” Walter noted with a grin, only to earn a black look before Ranulf spurred his mount ahead, refusing to listen to more.
    But the notion had taken root in Walter’s mind, and he turned about to find Master Scot, Rothwell’s master-at-arms, and brought his horse to a walk beside him. “How did your lord learn of Roger