“My lord, the sun is high. We must make haste to reach Lorancourt for the marriage.”
“I do not go. I will send Sir William wagons of gold to repay him, but I do not marry again.”
Hugo sat on a stool at Ranulf’s feet and tried to control his gasp at the sight of his master. “So the great Black Lion fears a girl half his age and less than half his size? And what will you send the girl to compensate her for the loss of the husband she loves?”
“Do you not know the Earl of Malvoisin is too rich to ever be loved?”
“He is not too rich to wallow in his own pity. You may look at me so, but I do not fear you. I know of this other wife of yours.”
“Do not speak of her to me.”
“Until I am forcibly silenced, I will speak. You cannot blame all women for the faults of one.”
“They are alike, these wives of mine.”
“They are somewhat akin, I agree, both being baron’s daughters. You are a man of honor and have not seen the girl for some time. When you see her again you will forget your fears.” Hugo leaned closer and saw his master was no little drunk.
“Hodder! Throw some clothes on your master. We go to Lorancourt and return with a wife. Be sure his wedding garments are packed.”
It was a tired, confused Ranulf who rode north to Lorancourt. His head ached and his stomach burned, but it was all better than thinking and hearing the voices that haunted him.
Chapter Five
Lyonene looked at the rays of the early sun as they slanted across the rush-covered floor. She had been ready for what seemed to be hours now. Her betrothed and the men from Malvoisin had arrived yester eve, and there were many baths to ready before they were presentable for the wedding. She had not seen Ranulf.
Meg rushed into the little room. “You look lovely, my lady.”
Lyonene smiled at her, feeling as if her stomach might leave her at any moment. “What is that you carry?”
The girl gasped. “It is from his lordship, the great black one, your…”
“Let me see. It is for me, is it not?”
“Oh, yes, and lovely it is, too.”
Both Melite and Lyonene gave her a harsh look for opening a gift meant for another. Meg handed the box to her young mistress carefully, with reverence.
It was long and thin and covered with sheets of ivory on all sides and top and bottom. Each flat area, six in all, was covered with scenes of courtly love, a man and woman together. “It is lovely,” Lyonene gasped.
“No! Open it; the true gift is inside.”
Astonished that there could be more than the beautiful box, Lyonene lifted the lid on its silver hinges. The lion belt gleamed and the emeralds sparkled. Melite took the box as her daughter studied the tiny lions and lionesses. “I have never seen such as this,” she whispered. She held it to the light, feeling the thin gold wire, the smooth pearls and enamels. “Is it not lovely?”
Melite smiled at her daughter, glad to see such happiness. “It is indeed lovely. Now fasten it or we shall miss your wedding.”
Lovingly, Lyonene put the belt about her waist and let it fall just to the top of her hips. She caressed it and felt she could not take her eyes from it. “Did you send my husband my cups?”
“Aye, my lady.”
The hand that William took as he led his daughter down the stairs was trembling. He helped her onto the pretty little mare. She was to ride sidesaddle for the auspicious occasion; the rest of her family and important castle retainers followed on foot. William led the horse the short distance to the castle chapel. The day was cold and clear, and the ceremony would be held outside the church door, marriage as yet considered a legal matter and not completely a holy one.
Lyonene smiled to see the two brothers side by side. They both wore the Malvoisin black and green. The younger brother was in green with a trim of black and a mantle lining of white fur; the older brother wore black with a thin green braid about the edges of his tabard, his mantle lined in the rich black sable. Her father helped her dismount.
The look Ranulf gave her almost frightened her. He was not at all as she remembered. He seemed to frown at her and not be glad to see her. There were circles under his eyes.
Father Hewitt asked who gave the woman in marriage and who took her. Her father relinquished her arm and she took Ranulf’s, but he did not look at her. She wanted some reassurance that he was the same man she’d betrothed.
The priest’s questions were answered and the doors to the church thrown open. She released her pent-up breath and pulled on Ranulf’s arm until he looked down at her. He looked tired, but he was her Lion. She smiled up at him. “You ever forget when you are to kiss me,” she whispered.