Free The Black Lyon by Jude Deveraux Page B

He never left Lean's side during the three days that the fever consumed her. It was only after her death that he had heard of his wife's illness, that she too lay on her deathbed.
    Her horrible dying words came to him. "I am glad she is dead, because I am dying also and I would take all from you that I could.
    I loved a man once, Leah's father, but he was poor and my father would not have him. You were there with all your riches and all your men, and you took away the one I loved. Do you think I could ever bear your black ugliness, that any woman could? No, Ranulf de Warbrooke, no woman will ever love aught about you but your fine furs and gold cups. Go now and get a priest and never let me need to look on your devil's blackness again."
    He crumbled the silver cup he held, jewels flying about the room, blood-red wine covering his hand. He should not have betrothed himself again! There were too many likenesses between this marriage and the other—a father eager to have an earl for a son, a girl ... He sat down again.
    No, there were no similarities between Isabel and Lyonene. But what of this young girl? She had seemed to feel the same for him as he for her, yet he had never felt so for another. For what he knew, she could have treated many men before him with the same eagerness, the same desire.
    The storm grew worse and his temper with it. It seemed that his every memory of his betrothed pointed to some falseness, some deceit.
    Hodder found his master asleep in the solar the next morn, and when he was awakened, the blackness of his mood matched his coloring. The thin valet watched his lord grow steadily worse in temper each day, eating little, drinking over much, remaining unwashed, unshaven.
    The rain continued, wetting everything, seeping into crevices and dulling moods. It was with joy that Corbet greeted the sun on the day they were to leave for Lorancourt. The seven men were ready and waiting in the courtyard for their master, but he did not come.
    Hugo Fitz Waren, oldest of the Black Guard, sought him out.
    "M y lord, the sun is high. We must make haste to reach Lorancourt for the marriage."
    "I do not go. I will send Sir William wagons of gold to repay him, but I do not marry again."
    Hugo sat on a stool at Ranulf's feet and tried to control his gasp at the sight of his master. "So the great Black Lion fears a girl half his age and less than half his size? And what will you send the giri to compensate her for the loss of the husband she loves?"
    "Do you not know the Earl of M alvoisin is too rich to ever be loved?"
    "He is not too rich to wallow in his own pity. You may look at me so, but I do not fear you. I know of this other wife of yours."
    "Do not speak of her to me."
    "Until I am forcibly silenced, I will speak. You cannot blame all women for the faults of one."
    "They are alike, these wives of mine."
    "They are somewhat akin, I agree, both being baron's daughters. You are a man of honor and have not seen the girl for some time.
    When you see her again you will forget your fears." Hugo leaned'closer and saw his master was no little drunk.
    "Hodder! Throw some clothes on your master. We go to Lorancourt and return with a wife. Be sure his wedding garments are packed."
    It was a tired, confused Ranulf who rode north to Lorancourt. His head ached and his stomach burned, but it was all better than thinking and hearing the voices that haunted him.
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Chapter Five
    Lyonene looked at the rays of the early sun as they slanted across the rush-covered floor. She had been ready for what seemed to be hours now. Her betrothed and the men from M alvoisin had arrived yester eve, and there were many baths to ready before they were presentable for the wedding. She had not seen Ranulf.
    M eg rushed into the little room. "You look lovely, my lady."
    Lyonene smiled at her, feeling as if her stomach might leave her at any moment. "What is that you carry?"
    The girl gasped. "It is from his lordship, the great black one, your . .