Medieval 1 - The Lily and The Sword by Sara Bennett

Author:Sara Bennett [Bennett, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2012-03-15T04:00:00+00:00

Lily refused to look away from those dark questioning eyes. “It is my name, my lord,” she replied just as formally.

He drank half the wine. His men raised a ragged and subdued cheer, obviously afraid their heads would crumble if they yelled too loudly. “So who is Lily?” asked Radulf, his brows drawn together.

“My father called me Lily. It is the name I am called by those who love me,” she said very coldly, so he would know he was not one of them.

He stared down at her a moment longer, then shrugged indifferently. “Then I will call you Wilfreda, or perhaps vixen, for you have been as cunning as one.” He swallowed the remainder of the wine. “Drink up, lady! You will be tired and thirsty ere this day is done. The king tends to wring every drop of amusement out of these occasions.”

He did not speak to her again, but turned to thank his men and receive more of their congratulations. Making them, thought Lily crossly, even more his slaves than they already were. Vixen, indeed!

Lily swiftly drank down her goblet of wine, to help dull her fears.

When it came time to mount her mare and ride to the castle, she was able to do so quite regally and with very little nerves.

“You do us proud, lady,” Jervois complimented her, as he assisted her into the saddle. “The King’s Sword could not have found a more ravishing bride.”

Honeyed words were rare from Radulf’s captain, and Lily wondered if he had spoken them because Radulf had not. Apart from that one burning look, Radulf had said nothing at all about the golden gown. But then, why should he? They were only marrying because the king had ordered it, and despite what he had said about revenge and enjoying her body, Radulf must be feeling angry and resentful.

She hardly knew what she herself was feeling. Confusion, pain, anger…and other, darker emotions she didn’t want to examine too closely.

Lily’s mare shifted nervously, perhaps sensing her mistress’s shift in feelings. When Radulf moved in beside her, his destrier frightened the mare even more. As she tossed her head and sidestepped, he reached over and took her reins from Lily’s fingers, wrapping them firmly about his big hand.

“My lord,” Lily gasped, shocked by his highhanded behavior,

“please return my horse to me!”

He ignored her, calling something to the innkeeper who was hovering in the doorway.

Her father had determined her life when she was young, then Vorgen had controlled her, and Hew had tried to. Men seemed always to be telling her what to do.

“My lord!” Lily hissed under her breath. “I asked that you return me my reins. I will not be led behind you like a child.” Radulf turned and looked at her then, eyebrows raised. “You wish to be thrown, lady?”

“My mare is afraid of your destrier, Lord Radulf, but I can manage her.”

There was a note of pride in the statement.

Radulf did not appear to care one way or the other, for he shrugged and said indifferently, “As you wish, lady.

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