A medieval romance by S.L. McKay
May 2004
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable from his scrutiny, Synnove turned and went to the tub. She dipped her finger in it and frowned. "Seems 'twas just hot, now 'tis cold."
"'Tis not the only thing."
Her head snapped up. "What?"
"I said the water is not the only thing in this room that turns from hot to cold in the blink of an eye." He drank deeply from the goblet and set it down firmly.
Synnove narrowed her eyes. "Are you referring to something, or someone, in particular?"
Dark blue eyes bore into her. "Aye. And well you know it. First you show about as much enthusiasm for our wedding as a condemned prisoner going to her hanging. Then you sear me with your mouth and body not five minutes after we arrive in our chamber. And, then after we burn hotter than the sun, you shun my arms for a tattered garment and cannot even toast a kind word to your new husband!"
Synnove stood with mouth agape. She spun away from him and pulled at the roots of her hair. Then spun back to face him, cheeks pink and eyes dark gold with anger. "Ooh! Your head is as thick as your neck! Nay, as brawny as your arms! Nay, as hard as your chest! How do you think I should behave after being awakened just before dawn and told I would have no wedding celebration!"
"That is not what you were told!"
"And how do you think I felt seeing you standing at the altar dressed for battle? Did you think I might slip a dagger between your ribs to avoid being tied to you for life?"
"Well, now that you mention it-"
"Aye! It may have been preferable, but I would not bring more suffering to my people for the likes of you! It was not enough that you wedded me in secret! Nay! You had to kiss me that way in front all the people of the burh!"
"What way? Was nothing wrong wi-"
"And capture me up in your arms and strut about, announcing very publicly that there was about to be a bedding!"
"I hardly think I strut-"
"No public wedding! No wedding feast! But by the holy rood you made sure everyone knew of the bedding!"
"Are you telling me that you did not enjoy the bedding?" he exclaimed in disbelief.
"Ooh!" Incensed, with chest heaving and delicate nostrils flaring, she reached for the nearest thing to throw, which was a jar of soap that sat on the stool by the tub. Ranulf caught it, chuckled, and tossed it on the bed. She picked up the stool with both hands and hurled it. He received it with ease. She cursed at him in Saxon and spun on her heels toward the door.