It was her fault, he thought bitterly, the woman who’d bewitched him into behaving completely out of character.
He winced as his thigh flexed. May as well face facts. His feelings for this woman were new and unusually strong. And feelings they were, whether he welcomed them or not, whether a man should admit to them or not. They made him weak, obviously. They must be studied before he could vanquish them and move onward.
“Send the woman Deorwynn to tend me,” he muttered gruffly, interrupting Thierry’s anxious warblings.
There was a pause.
He turned his head against the furs. “Well? Why do you delay?”
Thierry scratched his chin.
“I see you have something on your chest man, so spit it out.”
Finally his friend ventured, “You like this woman, Deorwynn? You are stirred by her more than any other.”
“No,” he answered at once, too proud to admit he’d been set adrift.
“You’re sure?” Thierry asked.
“Of course. She’s a mere peasant. And a Saxon. We’ve had this discussion before. What interest would I have in her?”
Thierry shot him a dark look.
“Beyond that,” Guy snapped. “She’s no different to any other serf.”
“It is no more than a passing fancy?”
“No.”
Thierry nodded slowly. “In that case, my lord, I ask your permission to woo her properly. Make her my wife. If you have no thoughts of her yourself.”
It shocked him to the core. He should have seen it coming, but he’d been blind, too busy thinking about himself. He cracked his knuckles. “She’s a Saxon peasant. An orphan. You can do much better for a wife.”
“But I like her very much,” Thierry said simply. “Very much. I think it would be easy to settle with this one.”
He was amazed. How easy it was for his friend to make such an admission. Guy tasted blood in his mouth and knew he’d bitten his tongue. With difficulty, he rose to his feet and limped around the bed, as if he had somewhere important to go.
“She may only be a peasant,” Thierry added, “but she has a pleasing way about her and she’s clever, amusing. She…”
“Has a gorgeous pair of tits and a pert round ass.”
His friend chuckled. “All that too, my lord.”
Guy stared down at his wounded thigh and then limped to the nearest arrow slit. “Of course you can have her. But there is something you should know.”
“Oh?”
“She is not a virgin,” he said carefully, looking out at the dull sky. “You asked me last night and I didn’t answer, because I thought we only meant to play. As we’ve done before, many times. Now I know you’re serious about this wench, so I must tell you.”
There was silence. He turned to look at his friend.
Thierry’s face hardened. “I thought you’d only looked and not touched.”
Guy said nothing. The two men stared, each waiting for the other to blink.
“I see.” Thierry rolled his lips tight. “May I ask when it happened?”
He owed no one any explanation, but he suddenly needed Thierry to know how thoroughly he’d had her. Casually he brushed his shoulder with one hand, sweeping away a speck of dried mud. “She was a fine, sweet piece of virgin pussy. Shame you missed out.”
Thierry took one step around the corner of the bed, drawing closer, and then stopped on the balls of his feet. “Damn you.”
“Damn you my lord,” Guy corrected softly, gaze still pinned to Thierry’s.
The other man’s eyes narrowed, unable to stand the heat that long. “I should have stuck my lance through you today and let your bloody horse trample you into the dirt. My lord.”
“Yes, you missed your chance there too.”
A few tense seconds passed, Thierry hovering, fists clenched, Guy boldly staring back, half-naked and scornful, relishing his victory.
Abruptly Thierry raised a hand to his eyes and laughter splintered out of him as if he might split apart with his amusement.
Guy frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” Thierry gasped, laughter shaking his shoulders. “I never thought I’d see the day. I couldn’t resist giving you a little test. Forgive me.”
“What?”
The other man wiped his eyes, still unable to quiet the laughter that bubbled out of him. “You’re in love.”
“I’m what?” he exploded.
“You. The Bear of Brittany are in love.”
Guy limped back to the bed, scowling. “Don’t talk nonsense. You always were a romantic fool, Bonnenfant.”
“I suspected it when you went through with a sham wedding ceremony. Then I saw you staring at her during the feast. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. Three times you held out your goblet for more wine and almost got it poured into your lap because you couldn’t keep your hand still. I’d never seen you like that. Never. Then, last night, when you let her run off without stopping her and today, the little display of strutting in the tiltyard.”