‘Your feet are like ice!’ she exclaimed.
He glanced down at her impatiently. ‘What do you expect?’
‘I could have wished for a husband who warmed his feet before entering his Lady’s bed.’
‘Be glad you have a husband who pulls your curtains for you,’ he growled, and let his hand move along her soft flank.
‘Not tonight, Husband. I am tired.’
As she spoke, young Stephen began to cry and Baldwin swore. He made as if to rise, but then studied her anxiously. ‘Are you sickening for something?’ he asked.
‘No, no.’
He drew away and looked into her face, his own anguish apparent. ‘Is it because of what I told you? You don’t regret marrying me, now you know what I used to be?’
Jeanne stared a moment, then closed her eyes and shook silently with humour. When she opened them again, she reached up and kissed him. ‘You clot! I love you.’
He kissed her back, radiating his confusion.
‘Baldwin, dearest. I am tired because I am pregnant. You are to be a father.’
In the hall, Aylmer’s head shot up at the cry from his new master’s room and he stared fixedly at the ceiling as he heard Baldwin leap from the marital bed and perform a thunderous impromptu dance on the bare boards overhead. Then, when silence reigned once again, the animal stretched luxuriously in front of the fire, scratched at a flea on his neck and settled for the night.