The Lily and the Lion by Catherine A. Wilson, Catherine T Wilson Page B

panting softly. ‘I have been a selfish lover. Tomorrow night no wine and I will more than make up for it. I believe, Lady, you are warming to me at last.’ In a playful moment he caught the corner of the brown coverlet and draped it over my head, the tasselled edge fringing my brow. He sucked in his breath suddenly, a soft oath slipping out on its release. My hand, pressed against his chest, felt his heart crack from a canter to a gallop.
    â€˜How long have you been buried in Armagnac’s nest?’
    â€˜Ten and seven years, Milord.’
    His eyes widened as he removed the quilt and reverently picked up a lock of my hair. ‘And his is the only home you have known?’
    At my nod he drew away and to my astonishment burst out laughing. Holding the sheet to my breast, I slid up against the bolster as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his wine. Drinking with the thirst of a dying man, he refilled his goblet and raised it into the air with a beaming smile. ‘A salute, my love. I know which Lord you will marry.’
    Panic struck in my breast as Edward donned his wrap and strode to the door, yelling for his guard. ‘Send to Chartres for Salisbury!’

    â€˜I do not care of the whys and wherefores, Odette. I must leave today!’ I stuffed the linen-covered slices of ham into the bag, setting the cheese to one side, and pulled the string so tight that if bells had been attached they would have tolled louder than Nôtre Dame.
    â€˜Well, what else did he say afterwards?’
    â€˜Nothing. He refused to speak any more upon it.’
    â€˜Then how did he act?’ My profuse blush needed no words. ‘What, again? You certainly have his attention. More times in one night than …’
    â€˜Odette! Concentrate! Is the boat in place?’
    â€˜Yes.’ She sat back pouting and crossed her arms. ‘He would not let Salisbury touch you. Are you sure you are doing the right thing? He could mean to marry you himself. Word is he has never been so besotted.’
    â€˜God’s sake, Odette! And pigs fly at full moon, and every fifth sheep is born with a golden fleece. Do not be so ridiculous! It is a ploy, a ruse, some game, and I have no wish to play it.’ With a huff I threw my scant provisions onto the bed and went to her side, biting down my frustration. ‘For the Prince to marry me I would need noble blood and if perchance any exists in my veins, then it just means I am someone’s by-blow.’ Reaching out to stroke her braid, I smiled wistfully. ‘Conceived on the wrong side of the blanket … a foul contagion to be hidden. That at least would make sense. But Salisbury is a different matter. He has already attacked my sister. I cannot risk it. I must be gone from here before he arrives.’
    She sighed sadly and rose to embrace me. ‘I shall miss you, Milady.’
    â€˜And I you, Odette. You have been a wonderful friend when I needed one.’
    She swatted her moistened eyes, her lips quivering. ‘Now, do you remember where I have hidden the boat?’
    â€˜Oui. Come, secure my sack beneath your robe and let us proceed to the evening mass. Let us pray the same two dotards are our guards tonight.’
    â€˜Lord! I hope this storm holds off for a little while longer.’
    I swapped my cloak for Odette’s outside the confessional – a poor priest was about to receive a list of sins longer than the baggage wains of an army as I escaped. The duration of the mass thereafter was the only head start I would have. With a howling wind at my back I brutally grazed my knuckles pushing the small boat into the water. The rising waves on the Seine, spurred by a tempest that blew from under Hell’s door, whipped my cloak into a disobedient sail. I battled helplessly with the oars in the blinding deluge of rain. But fate played me cruel and the two guards found me. Hair slick in the drenching torrents as they yelled from