“Montgomery! You have named him and not consulted me? What if I have chosen another name and do not like your name for him?”
Ranulf shrugged his shoulders. “It would not change me. My son’s name is Montgomery de Warbrooke, Fourth Earl of Malvoisin. It was my grandfather’s name and shall live again in my son. We shall return soon to my island and he shall be baptized. Dacre will come and be his godfather and Maularde shall be his other godfather.”
“Maularde? Should you not ask Geoffrey, your brother?”
“Nay, Geoffrey would much rather have a girl to treasure and spoil. My man has earned this honor.”
“He has. For godmother I shall ask Berengaria, if that suits your preconceived plans.”
He ignored her snide remark and his eyes held a faraway look. “I would that my mother could see him. She longed so for a household of children.”
Lyonene searched for some words of sympathy but could find none. “I am sure she must have been somewhat content to give the world such a handsome boy as you.”
He looked at her and then grinned. “It is true, for she agreed with your opinion of me. Mayhaps it is good she never saw how worthless Geoffrey has grown.”
“You have little opinion of your brother. I find him quite handsome and sweet-natured.”
“You do not rile me this day. I am too pleased with my son.”
“I but pray he only looks as you and does not possess your vanity or arrogance.”
He kissed her neck. “Nay, he will be a sweet child with the honeyed words of his mother. Have I said I love you this day? That I love you more each day?”
“Nay,” she whispered, “but had you done so, I would have welcomed your words.”
He abruptly moved his lips from her skin. “You are a curse to me. You leave me alone for months and I can find no woman to my taste and when I do see you again, you rival my horse for size and now I must wait until you heal from my son. I do not think I will kiss you until I can finish the matter.”
“You are a most considerate husband.” She ran her lips along his neck.
“Lyonene! You will cease this behavior. Now tell me what gift you desire in reward for my son. I will fetch you a crown of stars if that is your want.”
“Ah, my most gallant knight, you are most generous, but I will leave the stars for all to enjoy. There is naught I desire but to return home to Malvoisin, to the people I know and love, and I wish for the health of my son.”
“There must be some small thing you wish, some jewel?” She thought a moment. “I would like the return of my lion belt.”
Ranulf flashed her a broad grin and fumbled beneath her to the pouch at his side. His eyes sparkled as he handed her the beautiful belt. “Your merest wish is my command.”
“Oh,” she cried as she clasped the gold belt to her cheek. “You do not know the agonies I have endured over this belt. All else was taken from me and I had naught else to use for a bribe. I have never owned aught that I love as well as this belt.”
Ranulf continued to smile. “What of me, Lioness? Do I not share in some of that love as one of your possessions?”
She smiled up at him. “I do not own you, Ranulf. No one could own you.”
His face was serious. “I fear you are wrong, little Lioness. If ever a man was owned by another, it is I.”
Their eyes locked together in a moment of deep meaning and timeless love that went past a day-to-day existence or fleshly rapture. Their souls touched one another.
The baby’s crying brought them back into the present, earthly time. “Montgomery cries for his mother.”
Ranulf stood easily with his wife in his arms. “Then we shall bring him all that he desires. The son of the Black Lion will find the world is his if he but asks.”
Lyonene laughed. “I can see I will be cursed with two of you, for you will certainly make the boy in your own image.”
“Aye, and our Lioness will adore us both.”
“I fear you know me too well.”
This time, when Lyonene nursed her son, Maularde discreetly turned away.