“Come, my sweet. I am well. I am returned. Do not cry so. Please, you must cease; I can bear it no longer!”
She sniffed and tried to calm herself. “When they returned without you, I could not bear it, I could not think… Oh, Ranulf, they would have left you.”
He looked around at the men near him. “What is this? They would have left me to drown?”
“Aye,” Corbet laughed. “We thought you done for, but your lady had other plans for you than a watery grave. She is tame now, but there has never been a storm to equal her. I vow she made my blood freeze with fear.”
Ranulf frowned, for he knew Corbet jested, but there was a ring of truth in his words. Then he grinned, flashing straight white teeth. “She is a Lioness,” he said proudly as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the top of the hill.
He set her down and left her for a moment to see to Tighe, who had stood faithfully by throughout the storm. Lyonene walked a few feet away to retrieve the waiting stallion from the rocks.
“My lady!” She looked in astonishment as Maularde made a leap for her. She jumped back and avoided the powerful body that flew towards her and landed heavily at her feet.
“Lyonene, be very still.”
She looked in puzzlement at Ranulf and the men staring at her, Ranulf advancing slowly, stealthily. She sensed some danger, mayhaps a wild animal near and so did not move. She was stunned when Ranulf made one quick leap and did but grab the reins of the black horse from her hands.
The horse threw his head back and neighed, his front feet prancing.
“What is this you do?” she demanded. “You frighten the poor animal.” She took the reins and stroked the horse’s nose to calm it, and the animal lowered its head to nuzzle her shoulder.
She looked back at her husband and his guard. There was open-mouthed astonishment on their faces and then, while she watched, all eight men began to laugh. It started slowly, but soon built into a torrent, gales of laughter. First one and then the other fell to their knees, holding their stomachs as they laughed. Eight men rolled about on the wet, mushy ground at her feet.
“Pardon me, my lord,” Sainneville gasped, his eyes tearing, “but you will frighten my horse.”
“The horse’s tail weighs more than she does.” Herne dissolved into more laughter.
“The boatman’s face!” New laughter.
Ranulf was louder than all of them. “She really did it? Edkins looked terrified!”
“I was also! I vow she was twenty feet tall and the storm was silent compared to her booming voice!”
“My lark?” Ranulf gasped. “I called her a lark to Edward. Would he could have seen her!”
Lyonene knew they laughed at her. She had done nothing laughable! “I do not wish to keep you from your fun,” she said icily, “but I return to my home and a fire.”
The men began to sober and sit up. Then each of them tensed and quieted as she first put her foot into the stirrup. When she sat atop the horse and gave them what she hoped was a quelling look, she felt disgusted when they fell again to the ground, their laughter harder and louder than before. She squared her shoulders and left them.
“Lyonene!” Ranulf thundered to a halt on Tighe’s back beside her.
She refused to look at him. “I hate you! You use me as a jest for all your men! You are detestable!”
“Do you not know the reason for our jests?”
She refused to answer him or look at him, urging the stallion ahead of Tighe. Ranulf moved beside her.
“Do you know of the horse you ride?”
She frowned at him, further angered when she saw his amusement. “It is from the stables. I have seen the horse before, ’tis all. I am sorry if I took someone’s personal horse, but there was no other available.” She gave his wet form a scathing look. “Had I thought twice of saving you, I do not think I would repeat the action.”
He chuckled. “But you have never seen the horse ridden?”
“Nay, I have not. He is a smooth-gaited horse, and I wonder now why he is allowed to grow fat.”
“The reason, my sweet, is that Loriage has never allowed anyone on his back for more than a few moments.”
“You jest! He has spirit, but is otherwise gentle.”