The Black Lyon

morsel, almost as fine as my Angharad.”
    Lyonene pushed at Dacre’s shoulders; his hands were on her waist and her feet were high off the floor. “And how is your wife, Lord Dacre?” she said loudly. Then, in a quieter voice, she said, “Unhand me or I shall tell everyone something Lady Elizabeth told me of you.”
    Dacre stared at her a moment, then set her to the floor and began to laugh. “Were not Angharad the size of my horse, I would have brought her here and you would be a fitting match for my hellion. Did you hear this bit of a girl your wife threaten me? Look at her.” Dacre stretched his arm above her head. “She dares much.”
    Ranulf smiled at his wife, then looked back at his friend. “I would rather know what Lady Elizabeth says of you.”
    Dacre’s face lost its smile. “Hmmm. Well, I think I might not like that known just yet.”
    Ranulf threw back his head and laughed. “We will see my son and then my men wait for you. I believe there is a matter of some gold to be exchanged.”
    Dacre thumped his friend’s back. “This is one debt I am willing to pay most eagerly, for in truth I did not think you man enough to do it.”
    They left the solar in friendly argument and shortly the room was filled with women. Lucy, who had cried for hours at Lyonene’s return, Kate, Melite, Berengaria and Lyonene. They spent happy hours as they prepared the baby’s baptismal gown.
    Lyonene still thrilled at the delight of nursing Montgomery and found a peaceful sharing between herself and the child. He grew bigger each day, his eyes searching faces and lights that loomed above him. Already he was beginning to distinguish his mother from all the other hands that held and touched him.
    Malvoisin was overrun with guests and their retainers. Mattresses were brought from the cellars and aired and set up throughout the houses. The bedrooms of Black Hall were filled, and as was fitting, beds were set inside Ranulf and Lyonene’s chamber. At night the curtains to their own bed were drawn, but they were much aware of the sleeping noises of those around them.
    Lyonene snuggled her nude body next to Ranulf’s, her breasts against his back, one leg across his thighs, her soft skin delighting in the hard, hair-covered surface. He turned to her quickly, pulling her close, her soft, round body in direct contrast to the steel-muscled Black Lion. His hand roughly caressed her, savoring the creamy skin, the fullness of each curve.
    Lyonene moved her hips closer to him, feeling his ardent desire for her, and her excitement increased, her hunger for him, the pent-up yearning built up over the months of separation. She ran her hand down the long muscles of his back, her palm rubbing hard, her nails curled, unrestrained in her growing passion. She ran her mouth across the enormous roundness of his shoulder, touching the hot bronze skin with her lips, her teeth, her tongue. She nibbled the side of his neck, moving beside him, her breasts taut against the thick hair of his chest, the tickling softness sending shudders through her body.
    She traveled to his earlobe and felt his breath against her hair, deep, quick breaths. She pushed him back against the sheets, rubbing her thigh between his legs, exalting in her power over him. Her hand trailed along his arms, feeling the restrained power, the strength that she alone could control, could use to her own advantage, for her own whims and fancies. Her breasts brushed against his chest, the pink peaks just grazing the skin, the soft hair. A low, deep, harsh sound came from her throat as she touched the tip of her tongue to his parted lips, and the sound changed to an animal laugh, guttural, as she felt him quiver beneath her. She bit his lower lip, twisting it, touching the fullness of it with her tongue, drawing it forward, purring, caressing him, her body moving ever nearer its goal.
    “I am hungry, Melite. Fetch me some food or else send one of the maids to do it, but I cannot sleep in a strange place when I am hungry.”
    William’s words reached them inside the curtained bed. Lyonene, through instinct, immediately rolled from atop her husband at the sound of her father’s voice. Ranulf pulled her back to him, but a loud crash brought his eyes open, stilled his hand on her hip. He sighed and clenched his teeth together in an effort to calm himself.
    “Sir William, may I be of assistance?” he called through the curtains.
    “Nay, Lord Ranulf, I but meant to find the door