It seemed to Lyonene that all her senses were on fire. She raked her tongue across her teeth, enjoying the sharpness. Her fingers were tingling and they seemed more sensitive than they had ever been. She studied Ranulf’s profile and felt an incredible hunger to taste his skin beneath her mouth. She had never felt so strange.
“Warbrooke!” someone called above the general din. “See to your wife. I think our king’s ‘water’ has not quenched her thirst.”
Ranulf turned startled eyes to his wife and then a slow smile overtook him. He lifted her fingers to kiss them. He turned serious when she ran one finger firmly across his lips. He did not hesitate. He lifted her in his arms, ignoring the howls of laughter behind him, and carried her to their bedchamber.
Lyonene, later, did not remember too clearly all the events of that night. It seemed that they were instantly without clothes and on the bed. She remembered that she fought Ranulf and that he let her win. She satisfied herself at last by hungrily running her mouth over his entire body. When he sought to pull her to him, she pushed him away until she was ready for him.
She growled and laughed because she knew she had power over him, that she had bested the Black Lion as no other could. She ran her hands over his body, using her nails as she explored every inch of him.
Almost violently, he threw her down beside him. Their lovemaking was angry, turbulent, crashing waves of a raging storm, lightning causing fire as she ran her nails across his back, the inside of his thighs.
The storm abated with the same violence as it had begun. They rolled away from one another, not speaking, not touching, content, and slept.
Chapter Eleven
Lyonene tried to still her aching head the next morn, but Ranulf’s jests did not help. She looked away when he teased her for her actions during the night. Her stomach turned over several times when he pulled her from the bed and clasped her to him.
“Edward ever likes his tricks. He gave me white wine to use to dilute your red. I must thank him, for the results were…” He bit her earlobe. “There is not an inch of skin left on my back. How will I explain such wounds to my page?”
She could feel the hot blood flooding her face, and she refused to meet his laughing eyes.
“Mmm, my Lioness.” He buried his face in her neck. “I regret the time we have lost. I know you are not well, but are you too ill to begin the return journey to Malvoisin?”
In spite of her head and her stomach, she managed a timid smile. “Aye,” she whispered, “I am ready to return home.”
It was late in the day before they could begin the journey. Clothes, food, weapons, armor, tents had to be packed in wagons, Maude and the other two women from Malvoisin found and good-byes said. Lyonene regretted leaving Berengaria, and they exchanged promises to visit one another.
Brent gave one mournful look to his mother, and then even a hint of sadness left him as Ranulf led a solid-black pony into the courtyard and handed the reins to his new page. Henry de Lacy laughed and accused Ranulf of spoiling the boy, but Ranulf stated that all his men were treated with honor, as they deserved. Lyonene hid her smile at the solemn man-face on the six-year-old child.
A quick glance at the Black Guard showed Corbet and Sainneville to be in much worse shape than Lyonene. Ranulf heartily slapped both men on the back and asked if they did not think it a lovely day. He winked at Lyonene, who could not see the humor of the jest since her own stomach refused to remain still.
The return journey to Malvoisin was slow, taking a full week. They stayed at no castles, preferring to pitch their tents and spend the night with just a thin sheet of fabric separating them from the warm spring air. They often walked hand-in-hand among the trees, laughing, kissing, enjoying.
From the time they crossed the ferry to the Isle of Malvoisin, Lyonene felt a tense excitement. When the first sight of the pennants came into view, she and Ranulf exchanged looks and secret smiles, then spurred their horses ahead. They entered through the west barbican, as before, only this time Lyonene bent to touch the offered hands also.
There was only one blot on their joyous homecoming: the sight of a knight who glared at them, half-concealed by the stable walls. She remembered having seen him once before on guard duty. He gave her a smirking look, and she turned away quickly.
Ranulf swung Lyonene from her horse, his hands lingering on her tiny waist. He held her aloft a moment and they smiled into one another’s eyes.
“My lady, you are returned! I near died of fright every moment you were away.” Lucy waddled toward her mistress.
“Her fretting does not seem to have affected her appetite,” Ranulf whispered as they both saw that Lucy had added weight.
“And this baggage! It seems she helped you in your wicked plot.” She tossed her head back to the maid, Kate, who smiled nervously. Lyonene knew that for all Lucy’s words, she would never be mean to Kate or anyone else. The old woman turned to Ranulf for the first time. “You seem to have come to your senses,” she sniffed, eyeing the ease between them, the touches.
Ranulf did not smile but Lyonene could see the amusement in his eyes. “If you mean about this Lioness, I had no choice. She spent many hours working at ways to seduce me. A man can resist only so long.”
“Ranulf!” Lyonene gave him a h
orrified look.
Lucy looked from one to the other, serious. “I have told her to do so. A woman should not need to depend upon the infrequent thoughts of a man to get what she wants.”
Lyonene could not speak, she was so embarrassed.
Ranulf grinned then and took Lyonene’s hand and held it to his lips, his eyes never leaving Lucy’s. “She has gotten what she wants now. But it has not been easy for me—all day and all night.” He ignored Lyonene’s half-scream, holding her hand firmly to him.
Lucy grinned. “It certainly looks as if her wants have agreed with you.”