Her wedding day! Meant to be a most happy occasion, it had turned into a disaster. A husband who had changed into a scowling stranger, a childhood friend turned to a drunken madman. She wished with all her heart she could ride away and leave them all.
“So, you cannot bear his presence even for one day. You have paid a high price for your silks and velvets.”
“Do not come near me, Giles, What you talk of is nonsense. I have never loved you or ever thought to marry you. I marry Ranulf because he is a good and kind man, for no reasons of wealth.”
“You say to me the Black Lion is good and kind when all of England knows of his character? Next you will tell me he is a laughing boy who loves you well.”
“I tell you naught of my husband.” She turned back to the castle, but he caught her wrist. The slap she placed on his cheek made his ears ring. She picked up her skirts and began to run, but his sobs stopped her. Giles had once been her friend and now she could not bear the terrible sounds of his pain. She turned back to him.
“Giles, do not take on so. I did not know of your feelings for me. You have ever been my friend.”
He grabbed her arms, his head lightly resting on her shoulder. “I have always loved you, always.”
She patted his arm lightly, but pressed him away.
“A most touching scene.” They both turned to Ranulf, who stood a few feet from them, and the hate in his voice made her blood freeze.
An ugly laugh came from Giles. “So, you are the husband, the wondrous earl who can buy himself any bride he chooses. You may think you have won her, but she will always be mine. Do my words reach you? She is mine!?
?
Lyonene did not see Ranulf move, but Giles flew through the air to land with a heavy thud several feet away. He made no more sounds. The look on her husband’s face was terrifying, and she could not move.
“They are here.” A woman’s voice spoke near them. “They could not keep from one another. We have come in time,” she said, laughing.
Soon the cold courtyard was filled with laughing women, who surrounded Lyonene.
“She will be yours soon enough, Lord Ranulf.”
Only Melite noticed her son-in-law’s face. She placed a hand on his arm, but he did not seem to notice, so she followed her daughter.
Lyonene stood as stiffly as a doll while Lucy and her mother removed her wedding garments. Silently she stepped into the six-foot-square bed. Still she did not speak as they pulled the fine linen sheets just across her breasts and placed several feather pillows behind her head. Carefully they arranged her great masses of tawny locks about her head and shoulders.
“She’s lovely, my little girl.” The tears flowed down Lucy’s plump cheeks. “Oh, my lady, I hate to leave her like a lamb to be slaughtered.”
“Hush, Lucy!” Melite commanded. “She is frightened enough as it is. Do not encourage her.”
“And well she should be, too, for they say he’s a spawn of the Devil’s.”
Melite drew herself up, her eyes stormy, and pointed her finger toward the door. Sobbing, Lucy left.
“Lyonene! I have told you what happens between a man and a woman. It is an act of love, and there is no need to fear it so.”
Lyonene lifted her eyes to her mother’s. “I believe he hates me.”
“What has happened? What have you done?”
“I do not know; only that he is more than angry. Giles told him some lies and he hates me for them.”
“Giles! I thought he might cause problems so I asked Sir John to come without his son. I did not even see him.” She looked toward the door. “They come now. Be kind to him and patient; do not let your temper say things. I must go. You are a woman now and must solve your own life.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek and left.
Melite flattened herself against the stone stairwell as the Black Guard carried their lord up the stairs, his feet higher than his head.
“Now we learn what man we serve! If there is not a babe nine months hence, we go to serve Robert de Vere, who has six sons.”
“A lion for his shield and a lioness for his bed. Could a man ask for more?”
As the men entered the room, they quieted, for the sight of Lady Lyonene sitting in the bed, the soft globes of her breasts barely hidden by the sheets, her hair a thick halo about her, made each of them wonder at all the women he had ever seen, for none came near to rivaling Lyonene. Ranulf wondered at their silence, but then he, too, drew in his breath sharply at the sight of her.