Lyonene gave a violent jerk to her hand and drew it from Ranulf’s. “I will not be discussed like a … tavern wench!” Her head held high, she marched to the front door of Black Hall. She had to use all her strength to keep from losing her slight composure when she heard Ranulf say something about, “…best tavern wench I’ve ever had…” and Lucy’s giggle of delight.
Brent, his excitement at the unusual castle no longer contained, burst past her. She was happy to show the boy all the beauties of Malvoisin, and experienced anew the wonder of glass windows, tapestries and carpets.
The day was spent in hearing reports of happenings in the near two months they had been away. William de Bec, the steward, reported problems at Lyonene’s dower castle, Gethen. It seemed a neighbor had decided to declare that a large portion of the estate belonged to him. Ranulf sent William and six garrison knights to report on the matter.
The days lengthened and ran together in a blur of happiness for Lyonene. She and Bassett, the gardener, worked together to fill the Queen’s Garden with roses, lilies, marigolds, poppies, daffodils and many herbs. Espaliered cherry, apple and peach trees covered the walls. On the warm nights, she and Ranulf often sat together by the tiled fountain and talked or sang.
Ranulf spent near two weeks tending to his other manors. When he returned, their reunion was joyous. They spent many hours together in the solar, drinking from one another’s cups, telling stories of their separate happenings.
It was in late June as they sat in the solar, Brent drowsing on a sun-warmed carpet, wrapped around the puppy Ranulf had given him, that a servant announced a fire in the village. Ranulf went immediately, Brent not far behind.
It was late when the Black Guard returned with their master, their bodies blackened by the smoke.
“We could not save the houses, but the people are alive, although burned. Could you see to them?” he asked tiredly as the men wearily walked to the river to wash.
Daylight saw a lord and his lady who had not slept at all through the night. The climbed the stairs to their room, arms locked, eyes barely open.
“Here you go.” Lucy handed Lyonene a basket, which she took only because of a remembered response. “No one will let you sleep here. Soon the whole castle will awake, and then William will have a problem that desperately needs solving and then Bassett will ask for her ladyship’s help. You must go. I have prepared you food and that mean, devilhorse of yours is saddled, so off you go. I do not wish to see you until nightfall.”
Ranulf seemed to shrug his weariness away easily. He ran a hand down Lyonene’s back and firmly cupped her behind, grinning impishly when she jumped. “Lucy, you are after my own heart. I am so pleased that I do not even defend Tighe’s abused name. Come, Lioness, I know a glade that you will enjoy.” He took her hand and near pulled her to the door. She had only time for a smile of gratitude to Lucy.
The glade proved to be more than Ranulf had promised. It was sheltered and private, the ground soft with moss and tiny pink flowers.
Lyonene wore only her linen undertunic and Ranulf his loincloth. He leaned against a tree and Lyonene snuggled her back against his chest, his arms encircling her.
“You are no longer unhappy you married me?” she asked.
“I was never unhappy.”
She smiled and moved closer to him, her hand running idly along his thigh. “You are pleased also with Brent?”
He turned her to look at him, lifting one eyebrow. “Why all these questions? Has aught displeased you?”
“Nay.” She lay back against him. “I am happy. I but wondered how you felt towards me and towards … children.”
He snorted. “You are a troublesome baggage, but men must make do with their wives. As for children, or at least Brent, I grow fonder of the boy each day. Brother Jonathan says he is most bright and can write his own name. Corbet has been teaching him…” He stopped abruptly and turned her again to face him, a black scowl on his face. “Why do you ask me these questions?”
She put a hand on his chest and laughed. “I am not your enemy, Ranulf, that you must turn such a face on me.” She winced. “You hurt me!” He released her so quickly she almost fell backwards.
She smiled secretly and took her place against him again. “To answer you, I am but curious.” She felt him relax against her. “Whatever did you think me to mean, my lord?”
He took a deep breath and sighed, totally relaxed. “You startled me, ’tis all. I thought, for a moment, you meant to say you were with child.”
“And if those were my words?”
He tightened again and then relaxed. “I would force myself to bear such news with the courage that befits a knight and an earl.”
She was glad he could not see her expression. “And what courage could you speak of? I see no great feat for a man to create a babe.”
“It is not the creating, but the eternal responsibility. A child is a serious undertaking.”
“And you would bear the news with the gravity that befitted the occasion?” If he could have seen her eyes he would not have fallen into her trap so readily.
“Most assuredly. All in all, I am glad you are not breeding, for I have not had the time to think on the duties of being a … father.”
Her heart fell somewhat. “But what of your daughter?”
Ranulf was quiet. “I was young then and…” He paused. “Let us not talk of this more.”