Amicia ignored her. “Then it is a love match.”
Lyonene stopped and considered. “I believe it to be.”
“Lord Ranulf does not swear his love for you each moment of the day, then?”
“You are a guest in my house and I must treat you so, but I will not discuss the private lives of my husband and myself with you.” She tossed the sewing down on the nearest stool and left the room. She did not hear the little laugh of triumph Amicia gave.
Lyonene went toward the Jewel Tower, intending to see if there were any people hurt in the storm. Amicia had put a seed of doubt in her mind that had never been there before. Of course Ranulf loved her; had not theirs been a love match? But he had never said the words. She was a silly woman, she told herself. Words were not important. Of course he loved her, just as she had told him many times of the love she bore him.
She shook her head and made herself attend to her work, but the question plagued her: Would he care for her when she was old and ugly?
Amicia joined them again for supper. She was all smiles and apologies for all the work she caused and hung on Ranulf’s every word. He did not discourage her.
Alone, at last, in their room, Ranulf asked after her health. “
The babe does not trouble you overmuch? You seem quiet.”
She pulled away from him. “The babe troubles me naught. I sometimes think he is the only perfect thing in my life.”
He held her close to him, stroking her hair. “What troubles you? I would make it well if I could.”
“Would you? Would you make me able to bear your son and not grow fat, or grow old with the years?”
He smiled down at her, his thumb brushing the corner of her eye. “You do well to be concerned. I detect a fold in your skin already.”
She pushed away. “I do not jest.”
He frowned at her. “There is something which troubles you. It could not hurt to share it with me.” He saw tears in her eyes. “I have never seen you like this. You are ever of high spirits, even when I am not so pleasant to be with.”
A faint smile began to appear through her tears. “I am most happy to hear you say what I have always known.”
“Come to bed before I beat you as you deserve.” He pulled her to him, his hand rubbing her bare stomach, as if he inspected the growth his child made each day.
“And what will you think when my stomach sticks out to here?” she whispered.
“I will hope for twins,” he murmured as he fell asleep.
When Lyonene said she was to ride to the village the next morn, Amicia declared herself well enough to ride with her.
Since the stable boy was afraid of Loriage, Lyonene had to saddle him herself.
“You do not have him whipped?” Amicia asked in astonishment.
“He is but a boy. Later I will show him Loriage is gentle if spoken to correctly.”
“I am sure he is easy to ride and you but create the story of his fierceness. I may show you?”
“Certainly.” Lyonene stepped back.
The black stallion did not even allow the woman to sit in the saddle, but reared and fought her as she slipped one foot into the stirrup. Angrily, she walked away.
They paused in the outer bailey to greet one of the cooks, who held some especially fine cabbages for Lyonene’s approval. Off to the side skulked the man Lyonene instinctively recoiled from.
“Who is that man?” Amicia asked.
Lyonene turned toward the knight. “I forget his name. He seems ever to be idle and his ways are too insolent to my taste.”
“You do not think him handsome?”