Read Online The Black Lyon by Jude Deveraux - Free Book Online

fidelity and you exclaim over my age. Will you not say some such thing as you are near double my age? It is true you seem very old. I am sure you will not last the winter.”
    “You are an impertinent wench! Do you not know the Black Lion eats three girls such as you each day afore dinner?”
    Oblivious to the staring people around them, she put a finger on his lower lip. “I do not find that a horrible way to die at all,” she said gently.
    He stared at her a moment and then bit her finger, a little too hard, until she drew back in pain. “Do you not know it is the man who is to pursue the woman? Behave yourself and eat your dinner. Even now I shall never be respected by my own men again, for they have seen me led by a chit of a girl for near two days.”
    Happily, she gave her attention to her food and the songs of the jongleur. She had not even been aware that he had been singing.
    The meal was cleared and the tables dismounted and stacked against the walls. Father Hewitt brought ink and quills and the betrothal papers to a small table set before the fire. Sir William signed them hastily, but Ranulf paused. The old priest put his hand on the man’s strong arm. “You are not sure, my lord?”
    “I but remembered another time so much like this one.” He signed his name, a hard, black flourish.
    “Now, it is customary for rings and kisses. Lady Lyonene, you have a ring I believe?”
    She held out her hand for Ranulf’s and with trembling fingers placed a gold ring on the third finger of his left hand—the arm nearest his heart, the finger that contained a vein leading directly to his heart.
    “I do not have…” Ranulf began, but then his face lighted and he put his hand into the fitchet opening of his tabard and unbuckled a leather pouch from his belt. He emptied the contents on the table—a few coins, several jewels including an enormous ruby, three iron keys and a bit of wool, ragged and worn. He took the wool and unwound it to reveal a ring—gold, with clasped hands on the back to represent unity and a sun and moon to signify the lifetime bond of marriage. There were three emeralds across the top.
    “It was my mother’s ring. She bid me always carry it.”
    “You cannot give it me, for then you will at times be without it.”
    He took her hand and slid the ring into place. “I will wrap you in a bit of wool and carry you and the ring. Now go and find your mother, for I have sorely neglected my men, my horse and my brother.”
    “You are to kiss me.” Her voice was almost hurt that he had forgotten.
    He bent and kissed her cheek, but her arms went around his neck to hold him close. For a brief moment he crushed her to him. “Go,” he whispered, “before I shame myself and my king before your family.” He pulled her arms away. “Notice I do not include you in the shamed ones, for I vow you are a shameless hussy.”
    She giggled at him. “Go to your horse then, and I will do my work and not give you another thought.”
    Melite followed her daughter up the stairs. “Someday I shall pay for this,” she muttered. To see her daughter so happy was a joy to her, but she wondered where she had gone wrong that she had reared such a forward girl. “It is William’s fault,” she answered herself. “If he had named his daughter Joan as I wished, she would not be like this. No Joan ever threw her arms around a man not her husband and begged him for a kiss, at least not before her parents. But a girl named for a lioness!” She smiled. It was indeed fortunate that Lyonene was to marry a man like Ranulf and not a weakling like Giles, the young boy who lived on the neighboring estate and had since childhood vowed he’d someday marry Lyonene.
    “Mother! Whatever are you saying? I believe you are talking to yourself!”
    “You may be impertinent with Lord Ranulf, but you may not do so with me.”
    Lyonene laughed and then sobered. “I am sorry, Mother. It is only that he has called me just so this day. Is