“You cad!” Alayna laughed, pushing at his broad chest in mock indignation. “And to think of all of those times I quaked with fear that you would find me out. All of the plotting! You could have told me you approved!”
“And spoil all the fun of it—nay, madam, I would not have dared.”
On the evening before the wedding, all were gathered in the hall when Agravar stood, his cup raised. “A toast to our lord, Lucien de Montregnier. And to his departed enemies, may they serve as warning to all who would challenge us in the future!”
Everyone drank, except Lucien, who considered his longtime friend. He accepted the toast, then rose and lifted his cup as the hall hushed to hear his words.
“To Agravar, a Viking, who we will all welcome as the new Lord of Thalsbury.”
Agravar raised his hand against the shouts that sounded at the good news.
“Nay,” he said seriously. “I decline.”
A shocked silence fell. Lucien frowned darkly. “Explain,” he demanded.
“I have no wish for the responsibilities of lord. I would be content to remain here as captain of the guard.”
The crowd murmured a chorus of approval. The eased tension was no less evident on Lucien’s face when he nodded his assent. After a moment of consideration, he swung around to Will, who sat at his usual spot on Alayna’s other side.
“Then Sir Will, will you accept the offer and serve me as the lord of my old home?” he asked.
Will stood. “I would be honored,” he stammered, then his eyes narrowed, a sure sign of his mischievous nature asserting itself. “But does this mean that I must call you ‘lord?’”
Lucien laughed. “Aye, you must. And I will look forward with special anticipation to your yearly homage and term of service. Be assured, I will keep aside special tasks just for you.”
The new castellan extended his hand to clasp his overlord’s arm, laughing good-naturedly. “Then I accept.”
“Good!” Lucien declared, and the hall erupted once again in a chorus of cheers. Cups were refilled and toast after toast was made.
Amidst these celebrations, a woman entered the hall. She wore a hooded cloak but stood rigid as she advanced toward the dais. She commanded the attention of those she passed, and when she stopped at the spot immediately in front of Lucien, the crowd quieted and glanced among themselves nervously to see if anyone knew the mysterious woman’s identity.
The lord of the castle regarded the intruder calmly, awaiting her introduction.
She withdrew the hood, and those who were long in the shire gasped. Lucien stood, covering his shock. “Mother,” he said tightly.
“Lucien,” she breathed. “I have come to renew my plea for forgiveness. I beg you to do this if you have any pity in you. On this night, the eve of your wedding, when your heart is full of joy and goodwill, shall you not find it within yourself to grant me the peace I seek?”
Her words echoed in the silence of the lofty room. Alayna glanced anxiously at her beloved, her old fears bubbling up to threaten her once again. She held her breath as he regarded Isobol for an interminable amount of time. The woman stood under his fierce countenance bravely, unblinking against the daggers of his eyes.
“Lucien,” Alayna said quietly, that one word a plea.
He looked at her, staring for a long moment. “Pelly!” he shouted.
The young knight leaped to his feet. “Aye, my lord.”
Turning again to his mother, he said, “Have the stewards set a place for my mother at the end of my table.”
Alayna breathed a sigh, exchanging a heavy look of relief with her own mother as Lucien resumed his seat She reached for his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze.
The following morn, Lucien and Alayna spoke their solemn vows to each other for the second time in the grand chapel of Gastonbury. With joy and reverence, they promised themselves to each other until death and beyond.
Eurice was there, smiling her blessings, and Hubert and Mellyssand kissed her and congratulated her. Veronica watched her daughter’s happiness with serene pride.
Afterward, Isobol was prompted to relay stories of Lucien as a boy. She reluctantly complied, all too conscious of Lucien’s lingering resentment. Nevertheless, she was persuaded and eventually warmed to the task. Her eyes glowed with pride as she relayed how he learned to wield his sword at the tender age of seven on four groomsmen at once, setting them all fleeing for their lives. He had delighted, it was told, in terrifying the older lads who had, up to that point, teased him unmercifully.
“So you were a brute even then,” Alayna whispered to Lucien, her beautiful eyes sparkling with merriment. The tickle of her breath against his ear made Lucien’s eyes darken with desire.
“I fear if we are forced to await our marriage bed much longer, all here will give witness to just what a brute I can be,” he promised.
As soon as was decently possible, Lucien grabbed his wife’s hand and bade farewell to their company. His look bespoke that he would bear none of the traditional games played on newlyweds.
He was hard-pressed to wait until they had closed the door behind them to sweep her up against him in a crushing embrace.
“Now you are mine,” he said roughly. “Nothing will come between us again.”
Smiling, she reached up to slip her arms about his neck. “I fear there is one thing that will come between us, my lord.” Then she fell to giggling.
He looked down at her quizzically. “What are you talking about?”
“I was referring to my belly, of course. When it swells, it shall prevent you from holding me this close.”
“Belly?” he repeated stupidly.
“Aye, from the babe.”
“Babe?”
Alayna pretended to frown at him. “Aye, babe. Really, Lucien, you are going to have to learn to catch on more quickly if you are to teach our son. And quickly, too, for he will arrive in about six months’ time.”
A slow smile spread over his face and he shook his head. “Nay, no son yet. First I want a daughter with flashing eyes to rival the most priceless emeralds. And long hair of burnished chestnut like her mother’s. We will have plenty of time to work on sons after that.”
Cocking her head to one side, she said, “You who have such aversion to women now wish to add another to your life?”
He lowered his head to her neck, ignoring the gasp of delight as his lips brushed her ear. “Let us say that aversion is something I have gotten over. I find that the company of a woman with whom one shares certain…passions can be most rewarding.”
“Most rewarding,” she murmured. When he stopped his kisses, she looked at him, disappointed.
“Now, my lady wife, before we proceed with this night, are you quite sure that you want an addle-brained warhorse like myself? You have been telling me so long how much you want to be away from me, I want to be sure your recent change of heart is still in effect.”
Reaching up for him, she sighed happily. “Though I may be daft to do it, I am quite sure that my decision is permanent.”
“Forever?” he asked.
She answered his kiss, as always, with a hunger of her own. She recognized the feelings taking hold of her again and, just before reality dissolved, she whispered, “Forever.”
* * * * *
eISBN 978-14592-6108-2
THE MAIDEN AND THE WARRIOR
Copyright © 1998 by Jacqueline Lepore Navin
All rights reserved Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or n
ames They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
About The Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Copyright
The Maiden and the Warrior Page 25
