Lily opened her mouth to demand more, but he stopped her with a kiss.
“What of our children?” he murmured against her lips. “How are my daughter and my son?”
Lily smiled. “They are both safe and well. Strong and healthy, and very arrogant, as befits children of such a sire. I have left them in Gudren’s care.”
His mouth teased hers, his body tense with need, and yet he held back. “You are weary, Lily. You must rest. ‘Twas selfish of me to want you here with me—you should not have come.”
Her arms circled his neck and she smiled into his eyes. “Then I am selfish, too, my lord, because more than anything I wanted to be here by your side. Can it be that now I am here, in your bed, you plan to play the martyr with me? If that is so, Radulf, then I am not at all happy with you and I will turn around and ride home again—”
With a soft growl, Radulf caught his wife to him and tumbled her down into his bed. Lily gave a sigh of pleasure, and did not offer any resistance.
Chapter 15
Briar did not think she had slept at all, but she must have, for the sudden banging on the door made her jump awake.
Mary also sat up, her dark hair cascading all about her. “Who is’t?” she gasped, as the two guards sleeping on the floor just inside the cottage struggled to draw their swords.
“I am come from Lord Radulf!” a voice outside informed them.
Mary pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at Briar. Briar crept gingerly out of bed, wincing from the cold, and moved toward the door. The two guards gestured for her to stay back, and flung it open, swords at the ready.
The morning air crept in. The faces of Lord Radulf’s men looked pinched with cold as they stood waiting, one of them holding a largish cloth-wrapped bundle.
“ ‘Tis a gift,” the hard-faced soldier explained. “To the Lady Briar, from the Lady Lily.”
“Lady Lily?” Briar looked bewildered. “But is she not still in Somerset?”
The hard-faced soldier smiled, and suddenly he did not seem so very hard. “She arrived in York at dawn, lady.”
The bundle was placed on the floor inside the room, and the door was closed firmly. Mary came and stood beside Briar, both women looking down at it in some bewilderment. “What can it be?” Mary asked uneasily.
Briar did not know, but a stab of guilt reminded her that she had wished Radulf and Lily only ill until a short time ago. Perhaps Lily had discovered it. But that was silly—Lily couldn’t read Briar’s mind. Mayhap it was a gift for the home she would make with Ivo?
She bent and slowly, cautiously, undid the ties, and rolled open the cloth to reveal the contents.
It was a gown. Made of the finest velvet, and colored a deep, luscious green—Briar’s favorite color. The skirt and bodice were embroidered with small gold and silver beads, and in the gloomy dwelling, they glittered like distant stars.
“She has sent your marriage dress,” Mary breathed, reaching to touch the luxuriant cloth with a reverent finger. “Oh, Briar, ‘tis so beautiful! You will look like a queen.”
Briar, stunned at the extent of Lady Lily’s generosity, gasped as her sister hugged her tightly in her excitement.
“ ‘Tis a pity you have only your old stockings and shoes to wear with it,” Mary added, practically.
And wondered why Briar began to laugh.
There had been little time to prepare Lord Radulf’s York house for the ceremony, but with the roaring fire in the hall and the succulent smells of a banquet cooking, it did not really matter. The big room spoke of welcome and celebration, a haven against the threatening weather outside.
The priest spoke the words to bind them together, and Briar clung to Ivo’s hand, still a little dazed by all that had happened. And so quickly. Ivo was pale, with shadows under his eyes, but there was no hiding the steady glow of happiness in them.
Radulf and Lily watched on, and although Briar was introduced to Lily, she barely remembered what she said. Afterward, it was always Ivo’s words that she recalled, when he first saw her in her green velvet wedding gown.
“Demoiselle, you are an angel,” he had breathed, taking her hands and staring down at her in wonder. The gown did suit her well, seeming to capture the secrets in her hazel eyes and causing her chestnut hair to glow where it had been combed over her back and shoulders. “My heart is too full for words,” he had added, and ‘twas true, for tears filled his dark eyes.
Ivo wore a deep blue tunic with a fine linen shirt beneath, and dark breeches and soft leather boots. With his height and breadth of shoulder, he looked like the knight he had always been, in his heart. A man to be proud of.
When the priest had finished, Ivo drew her to him, carefully, as if he were afraid this were a dream and he might wake up, and kissed her lips, chastely, as befitted the solemnity of the occasion.
There was a smattering of applause. Briar’s sisters were there, their eyes shining, and Sweyn, grinning, as well as two other big men, whom Ivo had introduced as Reynard and Ethelred. They all wished her and Ivo well, and the warmth of their smiles washed over her like a happy tide.
