Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] by Gentle Warrior:Honor's Splendour:Lion's Lady

and feathers, was placed before her. Geoffrey served her after he had washed his hands with the wet cloth his squire provided him. A page assisted Elizabeth.
    The priest and several of Geoffrey’s thegns joined the couple at the table. Little Thomas was not allowed to sit with them, due to his age and his position, but each time Elizabeth saw him, she noticed that his cheeks were as swollen as a chipmunk’s with food. His manners were equal to her dogs, she thought, but soon he would become one of Geoffrey’s pages and learn the correct way of things.
    Several of the men broke out into verses of a popular and somewhat risqué ballad. And then the red-hairedsquire, flushed with drink, began to sing in a deep baritone voice. The hall quieted and all listened to his song.
    His ballad was about the hero Roland and his faithful sword, Joyosa, and how the brave man led the ancient troops to victory. According to the verse, Roland rode well ahead of the invaders, singing in a clear voice while he tossed his sword countless times into the air like a juggler. He was the first to die and offered no resistance. And now he was legend.
    To Elizabeth, Roland was foolish indeed. She decided she was not of a romantic nature. Dead was dead, whether one became legend or not. She wondered if Geoffrey would agree with her observation.
    “It is time,” Geoffrey announced when the song ended and the cheers to Roland’s memory subsided. He took her elbow, nodded to her servant, and stood. “Go. I will join you shortly.”
    Elizabeth wanted to leave, all right, but her destination was the great doors leading to the outside, and not her bedroom. She almost smiled at her childish thoughts of escape. Almost.
    She lifted the hem of her gown and followed Sara, keeping within the light of the torch the servant carried, stopping only once on her way up the curving staircase. She found her husband in the middle of a group of men, watching her. He seemed ignorant of the soldiers’ talk, staring intently at his bride. Elizabeth’s heart raced at the sensuous caress, the promise his dark eyes held.
    “Mistress?” Sara’s voice pulled at her, but Elizabeth couldn’t break the force that held her gaze locked with her husband’s.
    “Yes,” she whispered, and then, “I’m coming,” but it wasn’t until the servant tugged at her elbow that she was able to turn back to the kind woman.
    Sara kept up a steady chatter of village news until she had Elizabeth stripped of her garments and a new fire blazing in the hearth. Elizabeth’s hair remained twistedin the ribbon atop her head with several wisps falling and framing the sides of her face. She brushed a loose tendril aside and slipped into the robe the maid held open for her.
    Having Sara there, helping her, did much to calm Elizabeth. The day had been quite overwhelming. Elizabeth felt both exhausted and keyed up.
    “Your hands are trembling,” the old woman remarked. “Is it from joy or fear?”
    “Neither,” Elizabeth lied. “I am just overly tired. ’Tis been a long day.”
    “Mistress? Did your mother ever talk to you about the duties of a wife?” Sara asked with a bluntness that made Elizabeth’s cheeks grow warm.
    “No,” she answered, avoiding Sara’s gaze, “but I have overheard stories my sisters exchanged. Besides, a woman doesn’t have to do anything, does she?” Her voice held a note of panic, an echo of her inner turmoil.
    The servant nodded. “When a man becomes excited, he wishes his mate to respond,” she said very matter-of-factly. “I worry that you will make him angry if you—”
    “I do not care if he becomes angry or not,” Elizabeth replied, straightening her shoulders. “I just hope that he will be quickly done.”
    “There are ways you can make the deed quick,” the servant hinted. She folded back the covers on the bed and turned back to Elizabeth. “But it will take courage . . . and boldness, my lady.”
    Elizabeth found herself intrigued with