sleeping in the smaller room with the babe. He could summon her. . . .
No. On top of all the other reasons, exhaustion had swamped lust.
He stripped off his clothes and settled into the bed.
He almost leaped out again. The feel of the mattress and sheets, the smell of fresh air and herbs, all carried him straight back to this bed before he left.
With a groan he rolled over and buried his head in his arms. He'd convinced himself that it was God's will he take the cross, that it was God's will that he leave England, home, and wife. But if this situation was God's will, then the deity had a very nasty sense of humor.
* * * * * Galeran woke rested, but heavy with too much sleep. The angle of light on his closed eyelids and the noises rising from the bailey all told him it was late in the morning and he should be up. He was in no hurry to open his eyes and stir, though. To rise was to face myriad problems.
He didn't want to go back to sleep either, for his dreams - though scarce remembered - had not been pleasant. He'd been back in Jerusalem at one point, with Jehanne by his side. There'd been a child crying, but always too far away to be reached, too far away to be saved from German knights and a river of blood.
Even the thought of those dreams was unbearable, so he opened his eyes ...
... to see Jehanne sitting cross-legged on his bed, watching him.
She wore just a delicate silk kirtle and her hair hung long and loose around her, some wisps stirred gently by the summer breeze.
His heart began to pound as his body tightened and swelled. "Have you bewitched your guards?"
"I convinced them I was as secure in here as in the next room. A guard is outside the door."
"They might have given thought to my neck."
Color rose in her face, and not prettily. It was rare that Jehanne looked awkward, but now she did. "Since you let me shave you, they must know you don't fear that."
"I was awake then."
"I have never wished you harm, Galeran."
"Then you are remarkably clumsy, aren't you?"
As if slapped, she looked down and he found he hated this, hated seeing her so ill at ease. He'd rather she fought him.
"What do you want?" he sighed.
She did not look up, and two fingers and the thumb of her right hand moved in small anxious movements against the cream silk. "Raoul de Jouray ... He told me of your vow."
Galeran silently cursed his helpful friend.
When he said nothing, she looked up, chin raised, almost her old self.
"Perhaps you'd rather I sent a maid."
Pride and dignity said send her away.
Prudence echoed it.
Everything else in the universe made him flip back the sheet in silent welcome.
She caught her breath and a light shone briefly in her eyes. A cool, logical part of his mind warned that a clever woman in Jehanne's situation would make swift moves to reestablish herself with her husband, including getting with child if it were possible.
Jehanne was very clever.
He seemed to be split into three separate parts, though, and the cool, logical part was only one.
The second part was the man who loved Jehanne of Hey-wood too deeply for prudence.
The third part was an animal, consumed by scarce-contained lust for this woman.
She slid down to join him in the bed, stripping off her kirtle at the last moment. She would have covered herself, but he held the sheet away.
So she surrendered to his eyes.
He ran a hand gently over a belly that was a little more rounded.
"It's from carrying the babe."
"I don't mind." But he minded that reminder.
Then he let his hand wander up to her fuller breasts and darker, longer nipples. When he gently rolled a nipple, a drop of milk appeared. Milk for the child whose brains he should dash out against the nearest wall.
And a small, primitive, raging part of him wanted to.
Kill the bastard, the cuckoo in the nest.
Get rid of him at least.
Get rid of Jehanne's only living child.
He pushed these thoughts away and concentrated on the immediate. Her skin was as pale and translucent as that drop of milk, and against it his hand was darker than it had ever been, showing its exposure to hot sun. The only darkness on Jehanne was the bruise on her face where he had hit her. He touched it softly. She looked