The Black Lyon (38 page)

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Authors: Jude Deveraux

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Love Stories, #Historical Fiction, #Adult, #Europe, #History, #Romantic Suspense Novels, #Ireland, #Ireland - History - 1172-1603

BOOK: The Black Lyon
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Ranulf took charge of himself and used his estoc to cut her underclothing away. He wiped her forehead and murmured encouragement to her as the pains shook her. They were quiet as they heard the sounds of a hundred horses nearby, knowing it could be but moments before

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M orell found them. They all sighed in relief when the riders passed.

There was not long for stillness, for Lyonene's water broke then and Ranulf, having helped with many foals, knew the babe was coming. M aularde dragged himself nearer her head and kept her from screaming as the baby's head appeared. Ranulf did little more than catch the babe as Lyonene gave one last push.

Quickly, he removed the cord from the child's neck and the mucus from its tiny mouth. The child let out a great wail of protest at its new, cold environment and Ranulf hurriedly tended to cutting the cord and discarding the afterbirth.

M aularde seemed to have been invigorated by the child's birth, and it was he who wiped the squalling child with a square from a velvet tabard. He wrapped the infant warmly, gently touching the thick crop of black hair that covered the wrinkled head.

He handed the child to the exhausted Lyonene, and she touched the little face, the tiny ears.

"I would see this child of mine," Ranulf said quietly and took it from her. It was night and they dared not strike a light, so Ranulf held the babe in the moonlit doorway and removed the swaddling cloths to study the small body.

Lyonene could see his profile, the glow of the black eyes as he held his child; it was a private moment for the two of them that no one else could share. The enormous hand of the Black Lion was gentle when it touched the tiny fingers, and Ranulf smiled when the babe curled its fingers around its father's dark, war-scarred finger.

Ranulf replaced the clothes and returned the babe to Lyonene's arm. He touched her cheek gently, his eyes liquid, showing the depth of his feelings. "I thank you for my son," he whispered before he stretched out beside her and slept.

The four slept peacefully, bound together by shared hardship and shared joy. The babe woke them, and they all joined in the pleasure of the child's nursing, in his new delight in that age-old bliss. In the early dawn hours there was no separation between lord and vassal or even father and friend, but instead a union caused and blessed by a new life, an innocent being, whose wondrous presence transcended earthly bonds. The three adults smiled at one another and were as one.

They slept some more, and the sun shone brightly on the new day when they awoke again. Ranulf helped his guardsman outside the cottage to relieve himself and then carried Lyonene outside, the baby left with M aularde.

They sat together, Lyonene in Ranulf's lap, for a few moments before returning. He kissed her mouth gently and sweetly.

"I take it then that the boy pleases you?" she teased.

"Aye, he is the most beautiful of babes. I am sure there has been no finer," Ranulf said in all seriousness.

"You do not think him ugly and red as most fathers do?"

"Nay, he is not red. He has my skin color and my hair. Have you seen the way it already begins to curl about his neck? And he shall have green eyes like his mother. Already he shows a strength befitting a knight, and he has a headstart on being a large man."

"Aye, that he does, I thought he might split me in twain with the size of him."

"Nay, you are wrong. He did all the work. He fair pushed himself into the world."

"Ranulf!" Then she laughed, for she saw his beginning smile. "You did not look so sure of yourself at the time."

Ranulf clutched her close to him. "I will say my fear now, but I did not know birthing was such hard work. You are so small and my son so large."

"I remember no pain now, so do not fear for me. It is enough that I have pleased you."

He leaned back against the tree. "Aye, M ontgomery is perfect and I shall..."

"M ontgomery! You have named him and not consulted me? What if I have chosen another name and do not like your name for him?"

Ranulf shrugged his shoulders. "It would not change me. M y son's name is M ontgomery de Warbrooke, Fourth Earl of M alvoisin. It was my grandfather's name and shall live again in my son. We shall return soon to my island and he shall be baptized.

Dacre will come and be his godfather and M aularde shall be his other godfather."

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"M aularde? Should you not ask Geoffrey, your brother?"

"Nay, Geoffrey would much rather have a girl to treasure and spoil. M y man has earned this honor."

"He has. For godmother I shall ask Berengaria, if that suits your preconceived plans."

He ignored her snide remark and his eyes held a faraway look. "I would that my mother could see him. She longed so for a household of children."

Lyonene searched for some words of sympathy but could find none. "I am sure she must have been somewhat content to give the world such a handsome boy as you."

He looked at her and then grinned. "It is true, for she agreed with your opinion of me. M ayhaps it is good she never saw how worthless Geoffrey has grown."

"You have little opinion of your brother. I find him quite handsome and sweet-natured."

"You do not rile me this day. I am too pleased with my son."

"I but pray he only looks as you and does not possess your vanity or arrogance."

He kissed her neck. "Nay, he will be a sweet child with the honeyed words of his mother. Have I said I love you this day? That I love you more each day?"

"Nay," she whispered, "but had you done so, I would have welcomed your words."

He abruptly moved his lips from her skin. "You are a curse to me. You leave me alone for months and I can find no woman to my taste and when I do see you again, you rival my horse for size and now I must wait until you heal from my son. I do not think I will kiss you until I can finish the matter."

"You are a most considerate husband." She ran her lips along his neck.

"Lyonene! You will cease this behavior. Now tell me what gift you desire in reward for my son. I will fetch you a crown of stars if that is your want."

"Ah, my most gallant knight, you are most generous, but I will leave the stars for all to enjoy. There is naught I desire but to return home to M alvoisin, to the people I know and love, and I wish for the health of my son."

"There must be some small thing you wish, some jewel?"

She thought a moment. "I would like the return of my lion belt."

Ranulf flashed her a broad grin and fumbled beneath her to the pouch at his side. His eyes sparkled as he handed her the beautiful belt. "Your merest wish is my command."

"Oh," she cried as she clasped the gold belt to her cheek. "You do not know the agonies I have endured over this belt. All else was taken from me and I had naught else to use for a bribe. I have never owned aught that I love as well as this belt."

Ranulf continued to smile. "What of me, Lioness? Do I not share in some of that love as one of your possessions?"

She smiled up at him. "I do not own you, Ranulf. No one could own you."

His face was serious. "I fear you are wrong, little Lioness. If ever a man was owned by another, it is I."

Their eyes locked together in a moment of deep meaning and timeless love that went past a day-to-day existence or fleshly rapture. Their souls touched one another.

The baby's crying brought them back into the present, earthly time. "M ontgomery cries for his mother."

Ranulf stood easily with his wife in his arms. "Then we shall bring him all that he desires. The son of the Black Lion will find the world is his if he but asks."

Lyonene laughed. "I can see I will be cursed with two of you, for you will certainly make the boy in your own image."

"Aye, and our Lioness will adore us both."

"I fear you know me too well."

This time, when Lyonene nursed her son, M aularde discreetly turned away.

"He is a fine boy, is he not?" Ranulf bragged.

"Aye, my lord. The strongest I have seen at his age. I wonder if it could be the great mop of hair?"

"What think you of being the boy's godfather?"

M aularde was speechless for a moment. "I would be honored," he said in his quiet voice. "In truth, I do not feel myself worthy of such honor."

Lyonene covered her breast and held the sleeping child against her, toying with a lock of black hair that was beginning to curl beneath his little ears. "I think you have

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earned the honor, since you helped bring the chad to the world. Not many godfathers can claim such a deed."

The dark knight smiled. "I will love the boy as my own, you can be sure."

"I think you begin to already," Ranulf said and then was quiet as he listened. "Someone comes." Ranulf drew his sword and M aularde pulled himself to his feet, braced against the sharp stones of the cottage wall. He put himself between Lyonene and the door.

As Ranulf stood on the threshold, he looked in question to his guardsman. "While there is life in me," was the grim answer.

Lyonene sat quietly, protecting M ontgomery from even a thought of harm. She looked quickly at the back of M aularde and saw his leg had begun to bleed again. Yet he stood firmly, disregarding the pain and the fresh tearing of the wound, faithful to his duty to protect his mistress and his new lord.

"Hail the Black Guard!" They heard Ranulf's voice from somewhere above the crude cottage, a hidden place where he watched and prepared for attack. He dropped to the ground before the narrow door and then disappeared as he ran to greet his men.

M aularde sat down again, heavily, keeping his leg straight before him. He allowed the pain to show on his face. He gave Lyonene a timid grin. " 'Twere I alone I fear I would set up a howl. It is good that I am in your presence."

She could not return his smile, knowing his light words did not cover his pain. They could hear the laughter of Ranulf and his men. How Ranulf had changed in the last year! M aularde seemed to read her thoughts and they shared a smile.

"We have a visitor," Ranulf said. "Nay, he is a most welcome visitor and I was well able to handle him alone. He is a strong warrior. Already his strength has frightened me."

The Guard were silent, not understanding their lord's words.

"M aularde," Corbet called. "Are you finished now with your shamming and ready to return to work? M y lady, I did not see you at once ..." He halted as he saw the babe. Sainneville looked in puzzlement at Corbet, wondering what could ever silence such a man. He also stared at the tiny black-haired infant, who slept in his mother's arms.

As each man of the Black Guard entered the room, he paused and then dropped to one knee, head bowed. It was a full moment and a great tribute to Ranulf as first one man and then another kissed the little hand and paid homage to their lord's heir. Lyonene blinked back the tears at this honor. She saw also that Ranulfs jaw seemed to be less securely held than usual; indeed, it seemed to tremble.

"Hail to the son of the Earl of M alvoisin," they shouted, the stones quivering with the resonance of their voices. M ontgomery did not care for the noise and set up a howl that was easily heard above the men's voices.

Ranulf smiled at his son proudly. "I fear the boy does not like you as well as I, my men."

Corbet recovered his voice. "Well, it has taken almost a year exactly for this son, from the day of your marriage to now. You have won us a few wagers, my lord."

Ranulf frowned a moment in puzzlement and then grinned. "I will guess that Dacre has a hand in this. I shall be glad to see him pay. If he seems reluctant, I will gladly help you collect."

Lyonene looked away, pretending not to understand their words, but secretly vowing to someday repay Lord Dacre for his presumption.

Ranulf stepped forward and gently took the boy from her. He took him outside and his men followed. She went to the window and watched as her husband proudly unwrapped the boy and displayed him to his men. She could hear his boasts of the boy's strengths. It made her warm to see the tenderness, the protective way Ranulf held his son.

A fire was lit, and Gilbert and Herne went to seek a nearby village so they could have food and clean linens for the babe.

Lyonene knew no bath had ever been as welcome as this one inside a crude Irish hut. For the first. time she carefully bathed her new little son, admiring and marveling at his perfect features and at the eyes that, as Ranulf had said, grew more green each passing hour.

They stayed there in that little hut for two days, more to give M aularde's leg a chance to heal than anything else. Since the knight refused to ride in a wagon, Ranulf and his

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men rigged a sling for him on his horse so that his leg remained straight on the return journey to M alvoisin.

They traveled slowly, resting often, and Ranulf was especially attentive to Lyonene's needs, always ready to offer his help to her. She never asked what had happened to Sir M orell or Amicia, or even to Lady M argaret, but several times she saw Hugo and Ranulf in deep conversation and somehow sensed that they were forever safe from further treachery.

At Waterford they boarded a ship to return to England. Lyonene did not know if it was her happiness or the fact that she no longer carried a child, but on the three-day trip she was never ill and indeed enjoyed the soft air, the tangy smell of the sea.

It was a long five days' travel to M alvoisin, and never had she ached for such a journey to end. Even the ferry ride to the island seemed to take a day. By the time they saw the gray towers of the castle before them, M ontgomery was seventeen days old and beginning to gain weight. He slept nearly always, often cradled against his father's strong arm, oblivious to the many people and events surrounding him.

Trumpets blared when they were in sight of the castle and the villagers and castlefolk ran to greet them. The word of the child had reached them and they crowded to see him, raising loud, joyous cheers when they saw the healthy crop of black hair,

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