The Black Lyon (Montgomery/Taggert 1) - Page 60

Lyonene was relieved somewhat by the girl’s words, but not enough to continue sewing. “You do not think there is a shipwreck now?”

“No, word would have been sent to us. The whole island knows when there is such an event, even in a storm.”

The hours dragged and Lyonene walked again and again to the windows, forgetting each time they were covered. She heard noises and ran to the stairs to see only darkness below.

It was late when she heard unmistakable sounds of doors and people. She barely touched the stairs as she ran below. She flew to Ranulf, mindless of his wet clothes. He held her to him, aware of her pounding heart.

“Here, I am near drowned and you wet me more.” He kissed her tear-covered eyelids. “Let me go by the fire, for the cold and wet has gone to my bones.”

“Brent! Where is he?” she demanded.

“Corbet took him. Their women will care for him.”

She could not help a pang of jealousy.

Ranulf saw it. “You have not enough with me? You let me stand here and turn to ice? Mayhaps I should have followed my page?”

She grinned at him and pulled him up the stairs, where she dismissed Kate. She hurriedly helped Ranulf peel off his sodden clothes and rubbed him briskly with the towels. Hodder brought a warm robe, fur-lined slippers, hot wine and a charger of soup and roasted chicken.

Once warm, Ranulf attacked the food and drink.

“This is one of the worst I have ever seen,” he said through mouthfuls of food. “I saw the wind lift a dog and carry it a cloth-yard away. Brent was holding onto his saddle with both hands. Hugo pulled him to the front of him and led the pony. The rain slashed so hard we could hardly see. We shall spend months repairing roofs after this. You prepared the castle properly?”

She rubbed his calf muscles with the towel. “Aye, I am glad for the shutters. There is no sign of a ship?”

He paused an instant over a chicken leg and then continued. “Nay. The fires are lit on all the towers and I have sent more men to St. Agnes’ Point. They are to ride at once to me to tell if a ship is sighted.”

“You must go? You cannot send another to give your orders?”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Nay, no one else can … give orders.”

Even as they spoke, Herne broke into the room. “There is a wreck and it looks to be a big one. The rest of the guard are dressing now.”

Ranulf rose abruptly and strode into the bedchamber. Lyonene followed, watching silently as he pulled clothes from chests.

“You cannot leave this to your me

n?”

He turned a face to her as violent as the storm outside. “Nay, I cannot. Do not say so to me again.” His voice was low and deadly. He pulled on thick woolen chausses, then the linen undershirt.

“Come here,” he finally said. “Do not look so at me. I must go and I do not wish you to plague me.”

She stood before him, silently.

“Where is my Lioness?” he demanded. “Fetch me my heavy woolen mantle. Are you not worth all the gold I spend on you or the food I feed you?”

Her head came up then. “Mayhaps the rain will mold you into a chivalrous knight.”

When he was dressed, he clutched her to him, his strength near cracking her ribs. “If you wish to help, go to the chapel and give us your prayers. I do not wish to fight the sea unaided.”

As he ran down the stairs, he bellowed back at her, “And see the water wiped from my floor. I will not have my house harmed for a hundred storms.”

She heard voices and then the heavy front door slammed. She stood silently in the vast emptiness, the rain blasting the roof, the wind threatening even the heavy stones of the house, before his words came to her—“ … to fight the sea…” He meant to join the men in the boats.

Her mind moved rapidly. Of course! How else could he know whether there were survivors? Unless he was there, the men in the boats could easily remove any traces of people found alive. No one would ever know.

She ran back to the bedchamber and tore through chests to find the wools she sought. In seconds she was dressed, near swaddled in the thick garments.

Tags: Jude Deveraux Montgomery/Taggert Historical
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