The Lily and the Sword (Medieval 1)

His reaction didn’t disappoint her, although she doubted anyone else would have noted his sudden brief stillness and the transient gleam that disturbed the matte black of his eyes. He turned back to Alice. “I have heard of you,” he said in his low, husky tones.

Alice blinked, surprised by that seductive voice. “H-have you?” she managed. The girl was plainly in awe of the legendary Radulf, and Lily found herself looking at her husband through Alice’s eyes. So big and powerful, he must be an intimidating sight, and yet she was not afraid of him—at least not in that way. What did frighten her was the power he had over her, and if he were ever to ascertain it, how he could twist her thoughts and feelings into knots.

Meanwhile, Radulf was nodding at the breathless utterances of his wife’s friend. Alice, he had decided, was absolutely nothing like Lily. Her hair was too gold, her eyes too blue, her skin too pink and shiny.

His gaze, veiled by his lashes, slid over Alice’s clothing. The blue gown she wore would have suited Lily very well. A man who rarely noticed women’s attire, he had neverthe

less noticed Lily’s embarrassment at the state of her dress as he approached the two women, and he had overheard Alice’s artless comment about her new wardrobe. It made him uncomfortable to think that a little provincial miss could outshine the wife of the great Radulf.

Perhaps it was time he did something about that.

Lily, aware of Radulf’s eyes upon her, grew even cooler and haughtier than before. Behind her mask her pulse fluttered and her emotions dipped and dived, but Radulf would not know that. Alice, nervous enough in Radulf’s presence, sensed Lily’s tension and stumbled through another sentence. She rolled her gaze to Lily for help.

“Alice is coming to visit me tomorrow,” Lily said, taking pity. “We have much to talk of.”

“Not tomorrow morning,” Radulf replied quickly, and bit back a laugh when Alice turned to stare at him with shocked dismay. “No, it is not that I forbid you the pleasure of each other’s company. My wife will tell you, Alice, that I am not a husband to deny her her pleasures.”

Lily’s face colored delicately as she comprehended what “pleasures” he was alluding to.

Satisfied that his words had found their mark, Radulf went on. “You will have to postpone your visit. My lady wife has a very important matter to attend to tomorrow.”

“Well,” Alice glanced from Lily’s flushed face to Radulf’s impassive one. “This is all very mysterious, but I am sure another day will do just as well.”

She had regained some of her spark and with it her confidence. Radulf might still be an awe-inspiring sight, but there was something in his manner that made Alice believe he was no danger to her. Certainly he was nothing like Vorgen, whom she had hated on sight. Radulf’s eyes were watchful but entirely lacking the inhuman coldness of Lily’s first husband, and there was a warmth in them that made her feel quite breathless.

“Do you remain in York long, Lord Radulf?”

Instantly all the good points she had been gathering against Radulf’s name were erased. He gave her a scowl that made her want to shudder in her pointy-toed shoes.

“I go north all too soon,” he said tersely.

“Oh!” Alice swallowed. “I am sorry,” she felt compelled to add. “I-I expect you will miss Lily.”

Radulf raised his dark brows. He glanced down at Lily as if surprised by the thought and met her gray eyes gazing up at him. “Yes,” he said softly. Lily’s lips looked moist and sweet, and he wanted nothing so much as to bend his head and close his mouth on hers. To lose himself in her and to forget war and battles and the endless riding from one skirmish to another. Indeed, to forget everything but Lily and the mad, all-consuming need for her that had taken hold of him.

“Radulf!” The king’s voice saved him from making a fool of himself. Abruptly Radulf straightened and turned in the direction of the shout. King William, taller than most of his court, was beckoning to him. Without a word, Radulf walked toward his king.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Alice, who had observed the telling moment between them, did not quite know what to say. Lily, still dazed by the burning look Radulf had fixed upon her, was struggling to find her voice. Alice’s bubbly nature reasserted itself first.

“Oh Lily, he is very different from Vorgen!”

Lily frowned. “He is a man, just as Vorgen was.”

“I suppose, although the stories I have heard have it otherwise. They say he is untouchable in battle. That a sword will glance off him rather than cut—” She stopped, shaking her head at her own lack of good sense. “I am sorry,” she said softly, searching Lily’s suddenly pale features. “You would care if he were hurt, wouldn’t you? I did not think.”

“As I said, Lord Radulf is but a man and can therefore be hurt like any other man.” Lily’s voice was cool though her heart was thumping.

“I do not think he is ‘but a man’ at all,” Alice teased. “And though he may not be quite the ogre I thought him, he is still rather overwhelming. What do you think he means to do tomorrow, Lily?”

Lily allowed her gaze to find her husband’s dark head, now close by the king’s side, and rising above all others. “I do not know,” she replied softly. “I really do not know.” And then wondered at the speculative look Alice was giving her. “Do you know Lady Anna Kenton?” she asked abruptly.

Alice’s smooth brow furrowed. “I believe so.”

“What do you know of her?”

Alice shrugged. “She is here with her husband. He fed me honeyed sweets from his own plate one evening, and told me my eyes reminded him of summer.” Alice grew a little pink. “I did not believe a word of it, of course, but it was pleasant to be spoken to in such a way. I do not like his wife so well. She was once a great beauty, but I find her sly. Why, Lily?”

“She gave me my wedding dress,” Lily said. “I wondered what manner of woman she is, that is all.”