The Velvet Promise (15 page)

"My lord!" a serf girl called, then blushed when Gavin looked at her so fiercely.

She curtsied and held out a mug to him. "I thought perhaps you'd like some refreshment."

Gavin smiled at the girl. Here at least was a woman who knew how to act properly. He looked into her eyes as he sipped; then his attention was drawn to the drink. It was delicious! "What is this?"

"It's the spring's strawberries and the juice of last year's apples after they are boiled, then a bit of cinnamon."

"Cinnamon?"

"Yes, my lord. The Lady Judith brought it with her from her home."

Gavin abruptly thrust the empty mug back at the girl and turned away.

Now he was truly starting to get annoyed. Had everyone gone mad?

Quickly, he made his way to the far end of the bailey, to his armorer's. At least in that hot place of forged iron he would be safe from a woman's interference.

The sight that greeted him was shocking. His armorer, an enormous man, naked from the waist up, muscles bulging from his arms, sat quietly by a window—sewing. "What is this?" Gavin demanded angrily, suspicious already.

The man smiled and held up two small pieces of leather. It was a design for a new hinge that could be used on a knight's armor. "See, the way this is made, the hinge is much more flexible. Clever, isn't it?"

Gavin clenched his jaw tightly. "And where did you get this new idea?"

"Why, from the Lady Judith," the armorer answered, then shrugged when Gavin stormed from the shed.

How dare she! he thought. Who was she to interfere in what was his, to make change after change without so much as asking his approval? These estates were
his
! If any changes were to be made, they were to be made by him.

He found Judith in the pantry, a vast room attached to the kitchen, kept separate from the house for fear of fire. She was buried, head and shoulders, inside an enormous bin of flour. Her auburn hair was unmistakable. He stood close to her, taking full advantage of his height.

"What have you done to my home?" he bellowed.

Instantly, Judith came out of the bin, narrowly missing banging her head on the cover. In spite of Gavin's height and his loud voice, she was not afraid of him. Until her wedding less than two weeks ago, she had never been near a man who wasn't angry. "Your home?" she answered in a deadly voice. "And pray, what am I? The kitchen maid?" she asked as she held out her arms, covered in flour to her elbows.

They were surrounded by castle servants who backed against the walls in fear, but who would not have missed such a fascinating scene for anything.

"You know damn well who you are, but I will not have you interfering in my business. You have altered too many things—my falconer, even my armorer. You are to tend to your own business and not to
mine
!"

Judith glared up at him. "Then pray tell me what I'm to do if I'm not to speak to the falconer or whoever else needs advisement."

Gavin was puzzled for a moment. "Why, women's things. You are to see to women's things. Sew. See that the maids cook and clean and… make face creams." He felt the last suggestion was inspired.

Judith's cheeks blazed, her eyes glittering with little splinters of golden glass. "Face creams!" she snarled. "So now I am ugly and need face creams! Perhaps I should also make lash darkeners and rouges for my pale cheeks."

Gavin was bewildered. "I didn't say you were ugly, just that you are not to set my armorer to sewing."

Judith's jaw was set firmly. "Then I will not do so again. I will let your armor stay stiff and cumbersome before I talk to the man again. What else may I do to please you?"

Gavin stared at her. The argument was not going his way at all. "The mews," he said weakly.

"Then I will let your birds die of soft feet. Is there anything else?"

He stood there dumbly with no answer for her.

"Now I assume we understand each other, my lord," Judith continued.

"I am not to protect your hands, I am to let your birds die, and I am to spend my days concocting face creams to cover my ugliness."

Gavin grabbed her by the upper arm and lifted her from the floor so that they faced each other. "Damn you, Judith, you are not ugly! You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He stared at her mouth, so close to his.

Her eyes softened and her voice was sweeter than honey. "Then I may set my poor brain to something besides beauty enhancers?"

"Yes," he whispered, weakened by the nearness of her.

"Good," she said firmly. "Then there is a new arrowhead I should like to talk with the armorer about."

Gavin blinked in astonishment, then set her on the floor so hard her teeth jarred together. "You will not—" He broke off as he stared at her defiant eyes.

"Yes, my lord?"

He stormed from the kitchen.

Raine sat in the shade of the castle wall, his bandaged leg thrust before him, sipping Judith's new cinnamon drink and eating rolls still warm from the oven. Every now and then he tried to suppress a chuckle as he watched his brother. Gavin's wrath was apparent in his every move. He rode his horse as if a demon chased him and thrust his lance viciously through the stuffed quintain that represented his foe.

Already the fight in the pantry was being told and retold. In another day it would reach the king in London. In spite of his mirth, Raine felt sorry for his brother. He'd been bested publicly by a bit of a girl.

"Gavin," he called. "Give the animal a rest and come sit awhile."

Reluctantly, Gavin did as his brother bid when he realized that his horse was covered with foam. He threw the reins to his waiting squire and walked tiredly to sit beside his brother.

"Have a drink," Raine offered.

Gavin started to take the mug then stopped. "Her new drink?"

Raine shook his head at his brother's tone. "Yes, Judith made it."

Gavin turned to his squire. "Fetch me some beer from the cellar," he commanded.

Raine started to speak then saw his brother's eyes strain across the courtyard. Judith walked from the manor house, across the sand-covered training field toward the line of war-horses tethered at the edge. Gavin's eyes watched her hotly; then, as she stopped by the horses, he started to rise.

Raine grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him down to the seat again.

"Let her alone. You'll only start another quarrel which you will no doubt lose again."

Gavin started to speak, then stopped when his squire handed him a mug of beer.

When the boy was gone, Raine spoke again. "Don't you do anything except bellow at the woman?"

"I don't—" Gavin began, then stopped and gulped more beer.

"Look at her and tell me one thing that is wrong with her. She is beautiful enough to rival the sun. She works all day to set your home to rights. She has every man, woman and child, including Simon, eating from her hand. Even the war-horses daintily take apples from her palm.

She is a woman of humor, and she plays the best damn game of chess in England. What more could you want?"

Gavin had not taken his eyes from her. "What do I know of her humor?"

he said bleakly. "She has never even called me by my name."

"And why should she?" Raine demanded. "When have you ever so much as said a kind word to her? I don't understand you. I have seen you woo serf girls with more ardor. Doesn't a beauty like Judith deserve sweet words?"

Gavin turned on him. "I am not a simpleton to be told by a younger brother how to pleasure a woman. I was in women's beds when you were with your wet nurse."

Raine did not reply but his eyes were dancing. He refrained from mentioning that there were only four years' difference in their ages.

Gavin left his brother and went to the manor house where he called for a bath to be prepared. As he sat in the hot water, he had time to think. As much as he hated to admit it, Raine was right. Perhaps Judith did have a reason to be cool to him. Their marriage had started on the wrong foot. It was too bad he had had to strike her on their first night, too bad she had entered his tent at the wrong time.

But that was over now. Gavin remembered how she said he would get nothing from her but what he took. He smiled as he lathered his arms.

He'd spent two nights with her and knew she was a woman of great passion. How long could she keep from his bed? Raine was right, too, when he mentioned his brother's ability to woo a woman. Two years ago, he'd made a wager with Raine about a certain icy countess. In a surprisingly short time Gavin had climbed into her bed. Was there a woman he could not win when he set his mind to it? It would be a pleasure to bring his haughty wife to heel. He would be sweet to her, court her until she begged him to come to her bed.

Then, he thought, nearly laughing aloud, she would be his. He would own her and she would never again interfere in his life. He would have everything he wanted—Alice to love and Judith to warm his bed.

Clean and dressed in fresh clothes, Gavin felt as if he were a new man.

He was elated at the idea of trying to seduce his lovely wife. He found her in the stables, precariously suspended from a high rail of a stall gate, talking soothingly to one of the war-horses as the farrier cleaned and trimmed an overgrown hoof. Gavin's first thought was to tell her to go away from the beast before she was hurt. Then he relaxed. She was very good with horses.

"He's not an animal that is easily tamed," he said quietly as he went to stand beside her. "You have a way with horses, Judith."

She turned to him with a suspicious look.

The horse felt her tension and jumped, the farrier barely able to move before the hoof struck him. "Hold him still, my lady," the man ordered without looking back. "I have more to do and I can't get it done if he prances about."

Gavin started to open his mouth to ask the man what right he had to speak to his mistress in such a tone, but Judith didn't seem to take offense at the man's words.

"I will, William," she said as she held the horse's bridle firmly and stroked the soft nose. "You weren't hurt were you?"

"No," the farrier answered gruffly. "There! It's done now." He turned to Gavin. "My lord! Were you about to say something?"

"Yes. Do you always order your mistress about as you did just now?"

William turned red.

"Only when I need to be ordered about," Judith snapped. "Please go, William, and see to the other animals."

He obeyed instantly. Judith looked defiantly at Gavin. Instead of the anger she expected, he smiled.

"No, Judith," he said. "I didn't come to quarrel with you."

"I didn't know there was anything else between us."

He winced, then reached out and caught her hand, pulling her reluctantly after him. "I came to ask if I could present you with a gift. See the stallion in the far stall?" he asked and pointed as he dropped her hand.

"The dark one? I know him well."

"When you came from your father's house, you brought no horse of your own."

"My father would rather part with all the gold he owned than one of his horses," she said, referring to the wagonloads of portable wealth that had accompanied her to the Montgomery estate.

Gavin leaned against the gate of an empty stall. "That stallion has produced some beautiful mares. They are kept on a demesne farm some distance away. I thought perhaps tomorrow you would go with me and choose one for your own."

Judith didn't understand his sudden kindness, nor did she like it.

"There are palfreys here that are sufficient for my needs," she said evenly.

Gavin was quiet for a moment, watching her. "Do you hate me so much, or do you fear me?"

"I do not fear you!" Judith said, her back as straight as an iron rod.

"Then you will go with me?"

She stared into his eyes then nodded curtly.

He smiled at her—a genuine smile—and Judith unexpectedly remembered what seemed a long time ago; their wedding day, when he had smiled at her often.

"Then I will look forward to tomorrow," he said before leaving the stables.

Judith stared after him, frowning. What did he want from her now?

What reason did he have for giving her a gift? She did not puzzle over the matter for long, for there was too much work to be done. The fishpond was a place she had neglected, and it desperately needed cleaning.

«
^
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The great hall of the manor house was alive with the flickering light from the fireplaces. Some of the more favored of the Montgomery men were playing cards, dice, chess, cleaning weapons or simply lounging. Judith and Raine sat alone at the opposite end of the room.

"Please play the song, Raine," Judith begged. "You know I am no good at music. Didn't I say so this morning, and that I would play a game of chess with you?"

"And would you like for me to play a song the length of your game?" He strummed two chords on the fat-bellied lute. "There, I'm sure I've played as long as you did," he teased.

"It's not my fault you were beaten so quickly. You use your men only to attack and don't protect yourself from the attack of others."

Raine stared, his mouth open, then began to laugh. "Is this a bit of wisdom I hear, or an unadorned insult?"