The Black Lyon

hence,” Lyonene said.
    “I cannot stay for two days.”
    “Oh!” Lyonene’s face and voice could not hide her disappointment. “I did not think. Mayhaps you find Lorancourt a poor place?”
    “Nay. My steward sends word that I must return. There are cases to judge and my neighbors send mares for Tighe.”
    “Tighe is your great black horse? I would think any mare would be afraid of him.”
    “Tighe is a kitten, but you are right—he is used to no female, mare or woman.”
    “I know little about you.” Her face went white and her arched brows lifted. “Do you not have a wife?”
    Ranulf studied her. “Nay, I have no wife. Nor sister, nor mother.”
    Color returned to Lyonene’s face. It could make no difference to her, of course, but she was glad he had no wife.
    The meal was over, and now several of the men seemed to look about for a place to sleep. Lyonene sighed and knew her mother would have many chores for her in the castle. She had never minded them before, had even at times enjoyed them. Most certainly, she had never felt this way about a man before. She did not want to leave him, but wanted very much to stay with him.
    “Now I must attend to Tighe’s needs.” Ranulf hesitated. “Would you like to see for yourself how gentle he is?”
    “Aye.” Lyonene looked away. She was too eager. “I must come separately. My mother will need my help.”
    Ranulf nodded.
    Lyonene could not understand her mother. Everything she did, Melite corrected, so that only a little time had elapsed before Melite told her daughter to leave, saying that she was too clumsy this day. Lyonene did not see that she was any different from any other day, but she hurried to the stable before her mother changed her thinking.
    Ranulf stroked Tighe’s thick mane and wondered at himself for jumping at every sound and looking constantly toward the stall door. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Lyonene, her lips wide in a smile of triumph, her green eyes brilliant from a run through the cold air.
    “I must return soon,” she whispered; they were like conspirators.
    Ranulf whistled low and Tighe turned a finely shaped head to him. Cautiously, Lyonene approached and the beautiful black horse nuzzled her shoulder. Her laugh trickled out as she stroked the lovely head.
    “You were right, he is sweet. It is just his size and his blackness that scared me.” She looked startled and stared at Ranulf, so near her. “Like you.” Before he could answer, she went on, “Why must he be so big?”
    “Strength. A man’s armor gets heavier every year, and he needs a horse that can carry the weight and not tire easily. It is said that someday a knight will have a horse just for carrying him into battle; the horse will be too big to ride at other times.”
    Lyonene rubbed the Frisian’s nose. “I do not believe any horse could be larger than Tighe, and certainly not more beautiful.”
    From the far end of the stable, they heard two men begin to speak. Lyonene looked up in panic. “It is my father. He will not like my being here without Lucy. I must hide.”
    War had taught Ranulf to be resourceful and to think quickly. Now he grabbed a russet cloak from a peg at the back of the stall and threw it across Lyonene’s shoulders, covering her hair with the hood. He moved her so her back was to the door and stood facing her. As she looked up at him with a slight smile and such complete trust, his arms went around her and his lips touched hers, gently at first.
    William was forgotten, and neither heard his footsteps or knew when he looked into the stall. He saw Ranulf kissing a serf girl, for only the serfs wore russet, and he left, chuckling to himself. He liked to know his guests were well entertained.
    At the first touch of Ranulf’s lips, Lyonene thought all her senses had flown. She felt only his lips, his body next to hers, and she had never experienced anything that made her feel like this. She slanted her head to the side and put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer to her. His arms tightened and she felt his strong, hard body pressed to her, every inch of her hungering for more of him.
    His lips parted and she followed his example, moving her lips under his. She clung to him, meeting his demanding, searching mouth. Her heart beat wildly, thundering in her ears. She would never let go; she never wanted this moment to end.
    Ranulf pushed her from him, his body aching at the sight of her closed eyes and