Sanctuary of Roses (30 page)

With a deep breath, Gavin set her away from
him and stepped back, placing both hands on his hips as if to keep
them in control. “I believe it only fair that we should be on equal
standing,” he told her with a crooked half-smile. “Allow me to
disrobe—if it please you, my lady—and we may commence with our
desires then.”

“It pleases me to assist you,” she said,
needing something to do, to focus on other than what was to
happen.

She knelt at his feet, gathering her hair
into a bundle and pushing it over one shoulder. Slowly, as the
anticipation between them grew, she untied his boots, removing them
from his feet. She unlaced his cross-garters, taking her time,
sliding along the firm, muscled calves they enclosed. Madelyne felt
the weight of his hand on the top of her head, and the firmness as
his fingers tightened when she reached to pull down his
chausses.

His legs now bare to her, Madelyne saw how
thick and darkly-haired they were. She saw the ridges of muscle and
the planes of his knees rising into massive thighs half-covered by
his tunic. Heat pooled in her middle, sliding from her belly to the
place between her legs, and she suddenly felt light-headed even as
she reached to touch him.

As though sensing the effect he had on her,
Gavin reached for her shoulder, lifting her gently from under the
arm, so that she stood in front of him. “My tunic,” he said in a
rasping voice, reaching with both hands to gather up her breasts in
the moment before she moved.

She obeyed, helping him to pull it up and
over, stepping close enough that the tips of her upthrust breasts
brushed against his thin
sherte
. Gavin’s breath came faster,
harsher now and he stepped back to yank the
sherte
from his
shoulders—standing bare before her. His chest, broad and dusted
with hair, rose and fell, rose and fell, and his bare, muscular
arms hung, unmoving, from his defined shoulders.

Madelyne looked, saw that part of him that
Peg promised would bring pleasure to her if she allowed it, and
swallowed. Her dry throat constricted, grating in the silent room,
and she stood still—unsure of what to do.

Gavin stepped toward her, and they were skin
to skin, mouth to mouth, foot to foot. Before she realized it, he’d
shifted them toward the bed and sank onto it with her.

The different textures of his body enticed
her—coarse thatches of hair, rough callused fingertips, moist lips,
sleek muscles, and soft hair—and Madelyne touched every part of
him.

At last, he eased away, guiding her onto her
back, and leaned over her to take one of her nipples into his
mouth. He sucked gently, using the tip of his tongue to trace the
sudden hardness there. She gasped at the sensation—a fire—that
streaked through her, and her eyes closed as pleasure swelled and
surged inside her.

“Gavin….” she breathed. With a brief, wicked
grin such as she’d never seen before from him, he glanced up at
her, then returned to his gentle teasing. Madelyne sighed in
delight, shivering with a heat she’d never expected to know…and
then nearly leapt off the bed when she felt the warm weight of his
palm covering the thatch of hair between her legs. “Gavin,
nay…what….” Her voice trailed off as a wave of throbbing heat
started there between her legs and shot to the end of each
nerve.

His fingers slipped in and through her
private place in a teasing rhythm, gentle over the most sensitive
nub that seemed to swell with every stroke. Madelyne found herself
reaching inside, deep inside, for something that
was…just…out…of…reach….And suddenly she was there, shuddering under
his fingers and mouth and hands, sobbing with the shock of such
pleasure, burying her face into the bedding to wipe the tears.

“Maddie, Maddie,” he whispered, taking her
into his arms and pulling her close to his solid chest. “My sweet,
my sweet…you are so lovely.” He kissed her on the top of her head,
trailing gentle pecks along her hair and chin and to her mouth,
where he covered her lips fully with hers. His slick tongue drove
inside her mouth and he became more urgent, his hands pulling her
hips, shifting them as he pressed her back onto the bed.

All at once, he paused, stilling in his
position above her. “Maddie, do you know what is to happen?” he
asked, his voice taut, his eyes searching hers. “Aye,” she
breathed, thanking Tricky—who, for all of her talk, was as
inexperienced as her mistress—for broaching the subject with Peg.
“Aye, I am ready, Gavin.”

With a last, delving kiss, Gavin pulled back
to ease between her legs. There was a smooth, sliding sensation and
then, one sharp movement followed by a stab of pain. She gasped and
he stilled, waiting for the surprise to pass.

He moved slowly, sliding in a sweet, warm
rhythm. The pain ebbed, and as the numbness eased, something else
began to take its place—that delicious, swelling sensation from
before. Gavin’s breath came more harshly and Madelyne twitched
beneath him. He shifted into a faster, more urgent rhythm, and
Madelyne closed her eyes as the pleasure grew, billowing into that
explosion of beauty once again. As she gave a soft cry of
surprise—
again!
—he arched back, fitting deep into her with
one last thrust.

She felt him shudder against her and saw the
naked beauty on his face in that moment of pleasure, and his low,
rough exhalation. As Gavin came back to himself, she gathered him
close, closing her eyes and smiling at an intimacy she’d never
thought to experience.

How blessed had she become.

* * *

The morn came too soon for Gavin, but he
relinquished the blooded sheets to a squire so that they could be
displayed as proof of Madelyne’s virginity and his own ability to
consummate the marriage. There would be no chance of an annulment
with such evidence.

Despite the fact that it was the day after
his wedding, he was expected to attend Henry—and Madelyne to be
present in Eleanor’s court room—so they rose and went about their
business during the day.

But when the evening came, and they ate in
the great hall together, Gavin could not keep his attention from
Madelyne…and from the rising color on her face, he presumed that
her thoughts followed the same path as his. He could not remember
ever feeling happier or more fulfilled in his life.

Even in his early days with Nicola—when he’d
believed they might share a love betwixt them some day—this
self-same sense of contentment and pure peace was never part of his
life. Madelyne had brought that depth of serenity to him, and he’d
spoken truthfully to her. Somehow in the last weeks since he’d met
her, Gavin had lost his death wish, his urge to leave this earth,
his sense of carelessness with his life. Now…he realized he wanted
only to make a life with Madelyne.

The only thing that kept him from being
wholly contented was the knowledge that Fantin de Belgrume was
still alive.

Later that evening, as they lay nestled
together in a cocoon of bedding, Madelyne was just drifting off to
sleep. Gavin’s hand stroked the length of her back while the other
held her atop his chest. He toyed with her hair, and when he spoke,
his voice rumbled deep within his chest, just beneath her ear.

“We shall leave for Mal Verne as soon as
Henry gives his permission,” he told her. “’Tis dangerous still for
you to remain at court. I have set spies about and there’s been no
sign of him, but I know he has not yet given up the desire to take
you. You will be safe at Mal Verne, and there you’ll be able to
settle into your new life.”

She nodded against him, well content.
Memories of the fortnight she’d spent at his
demesne
stirred
pleasingly within her. “I look forward to working in the gardens,
knowing that this time I will be there to see their yield.” Her
mouth curved against his skin.

“I shall see Henry on the morrow about when
we may leave. Mayhap we can be on our journey before week’s end.”
He wrapped a thick hank of hair gently around his wrist, loosening
and then tightening it absently. “I wish also to bring the queen
her gift before we leave.”

“’Twas most kind of you to think of such a
thing. She’ll be pleased with the necklet, I am certain. I will be
working in her herb garden on the morrow, but surely word will come
to me of her delight.”

“Aye. The queen does love her jewels as much
as her husband loves his coin.” Gavin stroked her hair, and she
smiled under the comforting weight of his wide hand.

Madelyne basked in contentment. Her father
had made no move against her at court, though she’d felt a bit
worried that he might hear of her wedding and object.

Mayhap he’d returned to Tricourten, and to
his experiments, and would leave them alone.

Twenty-Five

Three mornings after their wedding night,
Madelyne was in the private herb garden tending to the five
varieties of thyme plants when Judith came rushing along the
overgrown path, calling her name.

“Maddie! Maddie, oh, dear God, Maddie, Gavin
has been arrested!”

“What?” Madelyne staggered to her feet,
tripping over her skirts and clutching at the apple tree for
support. She must have misunderstood. “What do you say?”

Clem, who’d been sitting under the tree,
watching over her in his master’s stead, lurched to his feet.
“What?”

Judith could barely catch her breath. Her
face was white, and a lock of copper hair straggled into her face.
Madelyne felt all emotion drain from her as her friend repeated the
impossible words. “Gavin has been arrested.”

“Why?” was all she could think to say. Her
heart was suddenly slamming in her chest, and her head had gone
light.

“He has been accused of attempting to murder
the queen!”

How? Why?
Madelyne could only stare
at Judith. She could not even voice the absurdity of such a
thought. “How…how can this be? Is the queen injured?”

“He presented a gift to her this morrow,”
Judith explained between short breaths as she tugged Madelyne
toward the entrance of the garden. “In a wooden box, beautifully
carved, and she did open it at once. But her head ached, and she
passed it to Lady Therese, who wished to examine the necklet. When
Therese pulled it out and placed it around her neck, she was
pierced through the skin in three places. She became ill
immediately, and, Madelyne, she has
died
.”

Madelyne stumbled after Judith, frozen,
shocked, disbelieving. She tried to make sense of what her friend
told her, but the only thing that resonated in her mind was that
her husband had been accused of attempted murder—of the queen.

“’Tis a mistake. ’Tis absurd.” She muttered,
at last standing alone and pulling from Judith. The king couldn’t
believe that of Gavin. How could he? He knew her husband. She shook
her head as if to dislodge the impossible, the
absurd
situation.

“And the king wishes to speak with you.
There were needles hidden among the wires of the necklet, and
poisoned.” Judith’s eyes were wide, with tears sparkling at the
corners. “Gavin is to be imprisoned—and he will be executed if ’tis
proven he is the murderer.”

Madelyne, followed by Clem, hurried after
her friend. All the way, she tried to assimilate this news with her
knowledge of the man she knew.

Nausea gathered in her middle. It was a
mistake, she told herself. It was not true.

* * *

Gavin stood to the side in Henry’s private
court room, his arms bound behind his back, and a man-at-arms
standing at his side. Madelyne fought the urge to rush to his side.
Instead, she focused on the grave face of the king as she
positioned herself in front of him.

“Your majesty,” she curtseyed to him,
glanced at her husband, then returned her attention to the man
she’d believed was Gavin’s friend as well as his liege.

“Lady Mal Verne, do you understand what is
happening here?” Henry asked. There was no sign of the light humor
that had glinted in his blue eyes before, and no evidence that he
had ever been anything but a harsh ruler. Indeed, his face bore a
haggard but steely set.

“Aye, your majesty. My husband is suspected
of attempting to harm the queen. Forgive me, your majesty, but you
know that Gavin respects her majesty and yourself and is devoted to
both of you!” Madelyne knew she spoke out of turn, but she could
not stand to see the proud figure of her husband restrained thus.
“He would have no reason to wish either of you harm!”

“Lady Mal Verne,” Henry’s voice boomed. “We
are quite aware of the circumstances. We would ask that you refrain
from offering your opinion until it has been asked. Now we ask you,
did your husband prepare a gift to be given to the queen?”

Madelyne drew herself taller and steadfastly
kept her eyes from Gavin. “Aye, he commissioned a special necklet
to be made for her in thanks for our wedding. The box in which it
was contained was also created especially for her majesty.”

“Aye. Created especially for her. With a
poisoned pin-prick that would have sent her to her death if she had
been the one to wear the necklet.” His eyes pierced blue-gray into
her gaze.

“Nay, your majesty. ’Twas a gift of
thanks…not of death. Why would my husband deliver himself to the
queen such a thing? Would he not know that ’twould point to him
immediately? He is not
mad
.”

But her father was.

A cold wave swept her.

Henry rose. He passed a glance over
Madelyne, and she believed she detected regret in his expression.
“Gavin, you must be imprisoned until this is resolved. I am sorry
to do so, but the evidence against you is great and I cannot allow
it to appear that I will not follow my own laws.”

“Your pardon, your majesty,” Madelyne spoke,
stepping toward the king. “Please, your majesty, could it not be
that someone who harbored ill against the queen—or my
husband—prepared the poison?”