The sound of her name stopped her, and she blinked rapidly to clear her thirst-crazed mind. She recognized Sir Morell as the speaker.
“To a plan of such perfection that we have been able to snatch the wife of the Earl of Malvoisin from beneath the husband’s nose. No other man has penetrated the barriers of that guarded island.”
“Do not forget to include woman in that, my good sir, for I do not believe you were alone in the execution of the plan.”
“Ah, but Amicia, you were but an instrument. It was I who watched her for months, I who planned every step. The day I saw her atop that hill outside his tent, I could not believe our good fortune!”
“She was an easy mark. She is so lovesick for the man I knew she could not bear the idea of another woman near him.” Amicia took a sip of ale. “I can see why she favors the man. I have heard her cries at night.”
“And you wished much to experience the joys she found, also, did you not? When he repulsed you so readily, I knew I had found a partner for the drama I planned.”
Amicia threw him an ugly look. “Now that we have her, what do we do with her?”
“That is arranged. I have a friend in Ireland, a widow who would do much for me. I will take her to my friend and there the little countess shall await her husband’s ransom. It will take him months, if not years, to collect what I will ask.”
“And what do you plan for her in the years it takes?” Amicia’s voice had a hint of laughter.
“This illness of hers plagues me much. I grew up always surrounded by illness and cannot abide it now. I do not see why she is not recovered from this sickness yet. We are but four days from Ireland. Do you add something to her food to prolong her sickness?” He grabbed the front of Amicia’s surcoat.
She easily brushed him aside. “Food! The woman keeps naught down but heaves it up again. It may be the child that causes this, although I have not heard of her having pain from it before.”
“That is another point. Although the child will bring a higher price in ransom, I will regret the loss of time when she will not share my bed.”
“You are too womanish in your ways. Why should a swollen belly keep you from what you have risked your life for?”
“You disgust me, Amicia. I have no desire to flounder about on top another man’s leavings. When she is free of her burden, she will be mine, but do not think on it. She will be well again soon, and there is time before she grows shapeless.”
Amicia raised her mug to him. “I hope she is worth all the effort you have given to having her.”
They both drank deeply.
“Now, go back and see to her. You have been away long. See if you can get some food to stay down her.”
Amicia reached for the pitcher and refilled her mug. “There is time. I do but watch her toss about and moan. She does not even heave now, but just lays there, calling his name o’er and o’er.”
Morell frowned and refilled his cup.
Lyonene leaned back against the wall, her heart pounding weakly. She began to edge back along the rough boards to the open door of her own chamber. She made her way to the bunk and collapsed on it. Had her face and body not been so dry she would have cried, but there was no moisture left in her, only the bleak, desolate knowledge of how she had fallen prey to an insidious plan.
Lyonene heard Amicia come into the room and carefully kept her face averted. Even in her illness she had only one thought—she must remain ill or the fate that awaited her would be worse than a sick stomach. She must feign illness and somehow escape
her captors, and above all, she must not think of the past. “Forgive me, my sweet Ranulf,” she whispered.
“Here, you filthy gutter rat.” Amicia roughly lifted Lyonene’s head and pushed a pewter cup to her lips, the metal striking her teeth. She drank greedily of the stale water. “A fine lady you be. Would that that husband could see you this day. Mayhaps he would think twice when he got within a yard of your stench. Here! Do not drown yourself.” She jerked Lyonene’s head up and stared into her eyes.
Lyonene forced her eyes to go blank, lose focus.
“It was too much to hope I would rid myself of the burden of you. Morell desires you. Men! It is all in their heads. One woman is the same as another, just as men are much the same.” She dropped Lyonene’s head and she fell back to the hard bunk.
“At least you drink now, so I’ll soon get some broth down you.”
For Lyonene, the hardest to bear was the filth and slime of her clothes. The smell made her weak stomach churn against holding even the water she had drunk. She would have to let Amicia know she had some semblance of coherence again, for she’d need the chamber pot soon. When the Frankish woman returned, she turned to look at her.
“So, you are awake. It has been many days.”
“How many?” Lyonene whispered.
“Ten.”