The Velvet Promise (12 page)

Now as he held his hands on the fat hips of an unattractive young woman, he watched Judith mount the steps. He did not dance with her, afraid he might apologize. For what? he wondered. He'd been kind to Judith until that time in the garden when she'd started acting insane, making vows she had no right to make. He was right in taking her away from the man who obviously thought her smiles meant more than they did, but she made Gavin feel as if he were wrong.

He waited a while, danced with two more women, but Judith did not return to the great hall. Impatiently, he climbed the stairs. In those brief seconds, he imagined all sorts of things she could be doing.

When he opened the door to the chamber Judith lay up to her neck in a tub of steamy water. Her auburn hair was piled atop her head in a soft mass of curls. Her eyes were closed, her head resting on the rim of the tub.

The water must have been very hot because her face was lightly dampened with sweat. All his muscles froze at the sight of her. She had frowned at him, raged at him and even then she was magnificent, but now she was innocence personified. Suddenly he knew that this was what he wanted from her, this was all he needed. What did it matter that she despised him? She was his and his alone. His heart was pounding as he closed the door behind him.

"Joan?" Judith said languidly. Receiving no answer, her eyes flew open.

She saw the look on Gavin's face and knew his thoughts. In spite of herself, her heart began beating quickly. "Leave me to my privacy," she managed to whisper.

He ignored her as he advanced, his dark eyes grown darker. He bent over her, took her chin in his hand. She tried to pull away but he held her fast. He kissed her, roughly at first but then his grip and kiss became gentle, deep.

Judith felt herself drifting. The pleasure of the hot water, his hand on her cheek, his kiss, weakened her. He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes, the gold warm and glowing. All thoughts of hatred were gone from them. There was only the nearness of their bodies. Their hunger for each other overcame any hostility or even thoughts of who loved whom.

Gavin knelt by the tub, his hand moving to the back of Judith's neck. He kissed her again, ran his mouth along the curve of her neck. She was moist and warm and the rising steam was like his growing passion. He was ready, but he wanted to prolong his pleasure, drag it out to the height of near-pain. Her ears were sweet and smelled of the rose-scented soap she used.

Suddenly he wanted to see her—all of her. Gavin put his hands under Judith's arms and lifted her. She gasped at the unexpected movement, at the coolness of the air after the heat of the water. A soft, warm towel hung within arm's reach, which Gavin wrapped her in. Judith did not speak.

Somewhere, buried in her mind, was the knowledge that words would break the spell. He touched her tenderly—no harsh demands, no bruising.

He sat on a bench before the fire and stood her between his legs as if she were a child.

Had someone spoken of such a scene, Judith would have denied that it could happen, that Gavin was an insensitive brute. She felt no embarrassment by her nudity while he remained fully clothed, only wonder at the magic of the moment. Gavin dried her carefully. He was a bit clumsy, too rough at times, too gentle at others.

"Turn," he commanded and she obeyed as he dried her back. He tossed the towel to the floor and Judith held her breath. But he did not speak.

Then he ran his fingers down the deep indentation of her spine. She could feel the chills his touch brought. His one finger said more than a hundred caresses.

"You are beautiful," he whispered throatily as he placed his palms on the curve of her hips. "So very beautiful."

She did not breathe, even when she felt his lips on the side of her neck.

His hands moved so torturously slow to her stomach, across her ribs and up to her breasts, which waited for him, begged for him. She released her pent-up breath and leaned back against him, her head resting against his shoulder, his mouth still on her neck. He ran his hands over her, touching her skin, exploring her body.

When Judith was nearly insane with desire, he carried her to the bed.

In seconds, his clothes were on the floor and he was beside her. She pulled him to her, sought his mouth. He laughed at her grasping hands, teasing her, but there was no ridicule in his gray eyes. There was only the wish for prolonging their pleasure. A sparkle came to her eyes, and she knew she would have the last laugh. Her hands moved downward. When she found what she sought, there was no more laughter in his eyes. They were black with passion as he pushed her down beside him.

It was only moments before they cried out together, both released from their sweet torment. Judith felt drained, her bones weak as Gavin moved partially away, though his leg was still across hers, his arm across her breasts. She sighed deeply just before falling asleep.

Judith woke the next morning, stretching like a cat after a nap. Her arm slid across the sheet only to meet emptiness. Her eyes flew open.

Gavin was gone and by the sun streaming through the window, it was late morning. Her first thought was to hurry outside, but the warm bed and the memory of last night kept her where she was. Judith turned to her side, ran her hand over the indented place beside her, buried her face in his pillow. It still smelled of Gavin. How quickly she'd come to know his scent.

She smiled dreamily. Last night had been heaven. She remembered Gavin's eyes, his mouth—he filled her every vision.

A soft knock on the door sent her heart beating, then calmed abruptly when Joan opened it.

"You were awake?" Joan asked, a knowing smile on her face.

Judith felt too good to take offense.

"Lord Gavin rose early. He arms himself."

"Arms himself!" Judith sat bolt upright in the bed.

"He only wishes to join the games. I don't understand why; as the bridegroom, he doesn't have to."

Judith lay back against the pillow. She understood. This morning she could have soared from the top of the keep and come only lightly to earth.

She knew Gavin must feel the same. The joust was a way to expend his energy.

She threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. "I must dress. It is late. You don't think we could have missed him?"

"No," Joan laughed. "We won't miss him."

Judith dressed quickly in a gown of indigo blue velvet with an underskirt of light blue silk. About her waist was a thin belt of soft blue leather studded with pearls.

Joan merely combed her mistress's hair and put a transparent blue gauze veil edged in seed pearls on it. It was held in place by a braided circlet of pearls.

"I'm ready," Judith said impatiently.

Judith walked rapidly to the tourney grounds and took her place in the Montgomery pavilion. Judith's thoughts were at war with each other. Had she imagined last night? Had it been a dream? Gavin had made love to her. There was no other word for it. Of course she was very inexperienced, but could a man touch a woman as he touched her and not feel something for her? The day seemed brighter suddenly. Maybe she was a fool, but she was willing to try to make something of this marriage.

Judith craned her neck to see the end of the tourney field, to catch a glimpse of her husband, but there were too many people and horses in the way.

Quietly, Judith left the stands and walked toward the tents. She stopped along the outer fence, oblivious to the serfs and merchants who crowded about her. It was some minutes before she saw him. Gavin in normal attire was a powerful man, but Gavin in full armor was formidable. He mounted an enormous war-horse of dark gray, its trappings of green serge, green leather stamped and painted with golden leopards. He swung easily into the saddle, as if the hundred pounds of armor weighed nothing.

She watched as his squire handed him his helmet, his shield, and finally his lance.

Judith's heart leaped to her throat and nearly choked her. There was danger in this game. She watched breathlessly as Gavin charged forward on his great horse, his head lowered, his arm braced against the lance. His lance struck the opponent's shield squarely just as his own shield was hit.

The lances broke and the men rode to opposite ends of the field to obtain new ones. Fortunately, the lances used in battle were stronger than the wooden ones used in games. The object was to break three lances without losing the stirrups. If a man was unseated before three runs were made, he had to pay the worth of his horse and armor to his adversary—no trifling sum. Thus had Raine made a fortune on the tournament circuit.

But men did get hurt. Accidents happened constantly. Judith knew this and she watched fearfully as Gavin rode again, and again neither man lost his stirrups.

A woman near Judith giggled, but she paid no attention until words reached her. "Her husband is the only man who carries no favor—yet she gives gold ribbons to his brothers. What do think of such a hoyden?"

The words were malicious and meant for Judith's ears; yet, when she turned, no one showed any interest in her. She looked back at the knights who walked among the horses or stood at the end of the field near her.

What the woman said was true. All the knights had ribbons or sleeves waving from their lances or helmets. Raine and Miles had several, and on one arm they each wore a frayed gold ribbon.

Judith only meant to run across the edge of the field and catch Gavin before he charged his opponent for the third time. She was new to the joust and had no idea that what she did was dangerous. The war-horses, bred for strength, size and endurance, were trained to help a man in times of war. They could use their great hooves to kill as easily as a man used a sword.

She did not hear the gasps as man after man pulled his horse back from her racing figure. Neither was she aware that several of the people in the stands had seen her and now stood, their breaths held.

Gavin looked up from his squire as he was handed a new lance. He could feel the gradual hush come over the crowd. He saw Judith immediately and realized there was nothing he could do. By the time he dismounted, she would have reached him. He stared, every muscle rigid.

Judith had no ribbon to give him but she knew he must have a favor from her. He was
hers
! She pulled off her gossamer veil as she ran across the sand, slipping the braid of pearls back over her hair.

When she reached Gavin she held up the veil for him. "A favor," she smiled tentatively.

He did not move for a moment then lifted his lance and held it down beside her. Quickly, Judith knotted a corner of the veil securely above the shaft. When she looked up at him and smiled, he leaned forward, put his hand behind her head and nearly lifted her from the ground as he kissed her. The nosepiece of the helmet was cold against her cheek and his kiss was hard. When he released her to sink back on her heels in the sand, she was dazed.

Judith was unaware of the suddenly quiet crowd, but not so Gavin. His bride had risked her life to give him a favor, and now he held his lance high—in triumph. His grin seemed to reach from one side of the helmet to the other.

The crowd's roar of approval was deafening.

Judith whirled, saw that every eye was upon her. Her cheeks flamed and her hands covered her face. Miles and Raine ran from the sidelines, threw their arms protectively around her and half-carried her to safety.

"If you hadn't pleased Gavin so much, I would turn you over my knee for that," Raine said.

Another cheer went up as Gavin unhorsed his opponent. Judith did not enjoy being the center of so much laughing. She picked up her skirts and made her way as quickly as possible back to the castle. Perhaps a few minutes alone in the garden would help her cheeks return to their normal color.

Alice slammed into the tent of the Earl of Bayham, a rich place of silk walls and Byzantine carpets erected for the comfort of Edmund Chatworth.

"Something is wrong?" a deep voice behind her asked.

Alice whirled to glare at Roger, Edmund's younger brother. He sat on a low bench, his shirt removed as he carefully ran the edge of his sword along a whetstone he turned with his foot. He was a handsome man, blond hair streaked by the sun, a straight aquiline nose, a firm mouth. There was a curved scar by his left eye that in no way detracted from his good looks.

Many times Alice wished Roger were the earl instead of Edmund. She started to answer his question, then stopped. She could not tell him of her anger as she saw Gavin's wife making a spectacle of herself in front of several hundred people. Alice had offered him a favor, but he would not take it. Gavin said there was too much talk of them already, and he would not cause more.

"You play with fire, you know," Roger said as he ran his thumb along the edge of the sword. When Alice made no comment, he continued. "The Montgomery men do not see things as we do. To them right is right and wrong is wrong. There is nothing in between."

"I have no idea what you mean," Alice responded haughtily.

"Gavin will not be pleased when he finds you have lied to him."

"I have not lied!"