The Black Lyon Read online

“Aye, I understand too well,” came Lyonene’s bleak reply.

  “I go now, but early on the morrow you must ride out on that black horse of yours. Say the packs carry cloth for the serfs, if anyone asks, but do naught to arouse suspicion. The ship will be gone when they discover you missing.” She left the room.

  Lyonene did not move, but later, when Kate helped her to bed, she began to cry and did not stop until the sun showed pink through the glass windows. It was to be her last night as mistress of Malvoisin, her last night in Ranulf’s bed. She rose late—not until the sun was full up—and hurriedly slung garments into the leather bags. She took no jewelry save the lion belt. As a remembrance, she took a small ivory box of Ranulf’s, carved with the lion of Malvoisin. It was made to hold his seal, but now it stood empty.

  She gave one last look at the bedchamber where she’d been so happy and shut the door.

  Her passage to the ship that waited at St. Agnes’ Point was quite easy. Only Kate had mentioned her mistress’s swollen face from the long night of tears, but Lyonene easily explained that away with a short sentence about pains caused by the babe she carried.

  Her stomach was definitely rounded now and she stroked the curve of it, again hoping she did the right thing in her flight.

  She could see the sails of the ship ahead, knew it to be one of several belonging to Ranulf, used to buy and sell goods with other kingdoms. Amicia came to her from her hiding place among some brush.

  “You are late and Morell needed to make excuses for not sailing,” Amicia said, accusingly.

  “Morell?”

  “You do not think I could arrange your escape alone? Sir Morell is one of Ranulf’s garrison knights, although he should, by rights, be one of the Black Guard. But this is no time for that. Here, you must hide your clothes and your hair.” She handed Lyonene a cloak of russet.

  Lyonene dismounted and donned the mantle. “You will see to Loriage? That he is returned?”

  “Now is no time to concern yourself with your precious horse. Aye, I will see to the beast. We must go, now. Morell is not sweet-tempered when his plans are mislaid. Keep your head down and look at no one. I do not wish the guards to see you.”

  She followed Amicia onto the ship, standing quietly as the Frankish woman spoke to a man she couldn’t see.

  “Get her below then,” came a querulous voice, and Lyonene looked up to see the man who was to take her to Ireland. She had seen him but few times before, yet each instance was etched in her memory. She recalled the times she had seen him standing in shadows where only she could see him, a smirk on his face. He always looked at her as if he seemed to know more of her than he did, as if he but waited for a time when he would discover all that he desired.

  Instinctively, Lyonene turned away, her steps going toward the side of the boat and home.

  “My Lady Lyonene.” The blond knight held her arm. “Do not be afraid. I will take you to your father’s relatives, and I will protect your safety and your honor with my life. Come below. I have seen to your cabin myself, for I would that you were comfortable.”

  She could not look at him.

  “I am Sir Morell, late in your esteemed husband’s employ. I say late for I do not think he will care much for me now that I take his wife away, albeit for a good cause. Come with me and be assured that you will be given every consideration.”

  Lyonene allowed herself to be led below, more unsure of herself each moment. The cabin was tiny, cramped and airless.

  “Lady Lyonene,” he said to her, moving his head nearer hers.

  “Yes.” She forced herself to look into his blue eyes. He was handsome in a way, fashionably fair, with brilliant eyes, a thin nose and a straight, firm mouth.

  He seemed to understand her scrutiny of him and gave her a one-sided smile. “Lady Lyonene, I must beg an indulgence from you. My men are not knights; in truth, they are not honorable men, and although I would protect you with my life, I fear I have only one life. You are a beautiful woman and I would not like to risk such beauty in contact with the coarse men who ride with me.”

  “What is your meaning?” She managed to get words out at last.

  “I would protect you from my men.”

  “Can you not order them to stay away from my cabin?”

  He smiled, his eyes devouring her, the hair cascading about her shoulders, the rise and fall of her breast, the swell of her hips beneath the coarse woolen cloak. “I fear I am not a man to be feared such as the Black Lion; nay, I am more of a lover than else.” He touched a curl along her breast, and a frown creased his brows when she jerked away.

  He stepped back from her, seeking to control himself.

  “I… I wish to leave this ship.”

  “To leave, so soon? But our journey has just begun—our long, slow journey, I might add.”

  “There is something wrong. I do not know what, but I have decided that I would rather face my husband than … than what lies before me.”

  Sir Morell strove to control his anger. “My lady, your fears are foundless. There is no one here who seeks other than to help you. I know all concerning Lady Amicia, and you must consider your child.” His eyes went to her gently rounded stomach and she covered herself. He continued, “You have made the wisest decision, and when you are safe again amongst your relatives, you will realize it. Until then you are surrounded by strangers and it is only natural that you have some reservations. I am older than you, have seen more of the world, have seen too many young wives discarded for another. Here, sit, my lady.”

  He guided Lyonene to the narrow bunk, his fingers running along her forearm for an instant before he relinquished his hold on her.

  “I must continue what I began. To assure myself that you are in no danger from my unchivalrous men, I must lock your cabin door.”

  “You would lock me into this tiny place?”

  “It is for your own safety, no other reason. Trust me. I will help you escape what could be a dangerous situation.”

  “I do not know…”

  “I have paid homage to Ranulf de Warbrooke, and whatever else you seem to think me, I am a man of my word.”

  She nodded then, submitting to what the future held for her.

  “You will not regret your trust of me. I go now to see to the safe passage of the ship. I will return soon with food, and mayhaps I may join you in your dinner.”

  He left her and Lyonene heard the key turn the lock. She felt helpless, beyond despair, and she could only lay back on the hard cushion and stare, sightlessly, into space. It seemed that her life was at an end.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hodder rode straight through the night and only by chance met the Earl of Malvoisin as he returned home from the long siege. Corbet helped the tired little man from his horse.

  “I must speak to Lord Ranulf.”

  “I am here. What has happened? Why have you traveled without guards?”

  “My lord…” he gasped, sitting on a rock. The moonlight made eerie figures of the seven dark guardsmen and their even darker lord. “She has gone,” he continued, panting to catch his breath.

  “Who has gone? That Frankish woman? I am well rid of her.”

  “Nay. It is the Lady Lyonene who has flown.”

  Hodder found himself lifted from the rock by his shoulders. Eight faces glared at him, and he couldn’t help his shudder of fright. “I could not hear what was said and so did not know her plans. She rode into the village this morn with cloth for some of the serfs, but at sunset she still had not returned. I alerted the guards, and the island was searched. We spent hours, but she was nowhere to be found.”

  “We ride.” Ranulf turned to his men. “Hugo, assign a man to care for the baggage. My guard goes with me to Malvoisin. Hodder comes with us. I would hear more of the searches made.”

  It was not easy to talk on the long journey back to the island. Hodder’s head near burst with the pressure of yelling above the horse’s thundering hoofs, but Ranulf showed no mercy to the man