The Velvet Promise (20 page)

Gavin felt, more than saw, her presence. He turned slowly, his breath held. Her hair looked darker in the candlelight, its rich color gleaming against the green velvet. The dark mink emphasized the rich creaminess of her skin. He could not speak. The nearness of her, the quiet room, the candlelight were even more than his dreams. She stared at him then slowly untied the belt of her robe and it glided languidly over her smooth skin, falling to her feet.

His gaze roamed over her as though he were unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? As if… he would reject her? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed aloud.

"Gavin," she whispered.

She had barely finished the syllable when she was in his arms, being carried to his bed, his lips already fastened to hers.

Judith was afraid of herself as well as of him. He could sense it as he kissed her. He'd waited a long time for her to come to him. He'd stayed away from her for weeks, hoping she could learn to trust him. Yet now, as he held her, he felt no great sense of triumph.

"What is it, sweet? What troubles you?"

His concern for her made her want to cry. How could she tell him of her pain?

When he carried her to the bed and the candlelight danced over her body, her breasts rising with each breath, he forgot all thoughts of anything but the nearness of her. His clothes were hastily thrown aside and he gently eased himself down beside her. He wanted to savor his skin touching hers, inch by slow inch.

When the torture was more than he could bear, he grabbed her to him fiercely. "Judith, I have missed you."

She lifted her face to his to be kissed.

They had been apart too long to proceed slowly. Their need of each other was urgent. Judith grabbed a handful of flesh and muscle on Gavin's back. He gasped and laughed throatily. When her hands clawed at him again, he grasped both hands in one of his and held them over her head.

She struggled to free herself, but he was too strong. When he entered her, she gasped, then thrust her hips up to meet his. He released her hands and she pulled him closer and closer to her. They made love quickly, almost harshly, before they obtained the release they sought. Then Gavin collapsed on her, their bodies still joined.

They must have dozed, but sometime later Judith was wakened by Gavin's slow rhythmic movement. Half-sleep, only half-aroused, she began to answer him with lazy sensual movements of her own. Minute by minute, her mind became more deeply lost to the feelings of her body. She didn't know what she wanted, but she was not content with her position.

She was not aware of Gavin's consternation as she pushed him to the side, her hips never leaving his. Once he was on his back, she was astride him.

Gavin lost no time in wonder. His hands slid up her stomach to her breasts. Judith's head arched back and her throat, so smooth and white in the darkness, further inflamed him. He clutched at her hips, both of them lost to their rising passion. They exploded together in a flash of blue and white stars.

Judith collapsed above Gavin and he held her close to him, her hair wrapping itself around their sweat soaked bodies, encasing them in a silk cocoon. Neither one mentioned what ran through their minds: Tomorrow Gavin would leave to do battle.

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The Chatworth manor was a two-story brick house with carved stone windows set with imported glass. It was long and narrow, and on either end was a stained-glass bay window. Behind the house was a lovely walled courtyard. Stretching for two acres before the house was lush lawn, at the end of which was the earl's private hunting forest.

Three people were emerging from these woods, walking across the lawn toward the manor. Jocelin Laing, his lute slung across his shoulder had an arm around two kitchen maids, Gladys and Blanche. Jocelin's hot, dark eyes were made even smokier by the afternoon he'd spent satisfying the greedy women. But Jocelin did not think of them as greedy. To him, all women were jewels, each one to be enjoyed for its own special brilliance.

There was no jealousy or possessiveness in him.

Unfortunately, that was not the case with the women. At the moment, both were dreading leaving Jocelin.

"You were brought here for
her
?" Gladys demanded.

Jocelin turned his head and looked at her until she looked away and blushed. Blanche was not so easily awed. "It's a wonder Lord Edmund allowed you to come. He keeps Lady Alice like a prisoner. He doesn't even allow her to go riding unless he is with her."

"And Lord Edmund does not care for a horse hitting his soft backside,"

Gladys chimed in.

Jocelin looked puzzled. "I thought this was a love match—a poor woman marrying an earl."

"Love! Bah!" Blanche laughed. "That woman loves no one but herself.

She thought Lord Edmund was a simpleton she could use as she wished, but he is far from simple. We know—don't we, Gladys—since we've lived here for years?"

"Oh yes," Gladys agreed. "She thought she could run the castle. I know her kind. But Lord Edmund would rather burn the place to the ground than give her free rein."

Jocelin frowned. "Then why did he marry her? He could have had his choice of women. Lady Alice had no lands to offer."

"She is beautiful," Blanche answered shrugging. "He loves beautiful women."

Jocelin smiled. "I am beginning to like this man. I agree with him most heartily." He gave Blanche and Gladys lascivious looks which made their cheeks flush and their eyes lower.

"Jocelin," Blanche continued, "he's not like you."

"No, he's not," Gladys said as she ran her hand along Jocelin's thigh.

Blanche gave her a strong look of reprimand. "Lord Edmund likes only her beauty. He cares nothing for the woman herself."

"Such as poor Constance," Gladys added.

"Constance?" Jocelin asked. "I don't know her."

Blanche laughed. "Look at him, Gladys. He has two women with him now—yet he worries that he doesn't know a third."

"Or is it that he worries whenever there is any woman he doesn't know?" Gladys asked.

Jocelin put his hand to his forehead in mock despair. "I am found out! I am undone!"

"That you are," Blanche laughed as she began to kiss his neck. "Tell me, sweet, are you ever faithful to any woman?"

He began to nibble her ear. "I am faithful to all women… for a time."

They arrived at the manor house, giggling.

"Where have you been?" Alice hissed at him as soon as he entered the great hall.

Blanche and Gladys hurried off to their duties in far parts of the house.

Jocelin was unperturbed. "You missed me, my lady?" he smiled, taking her hand and kissing it after making sure no one was about.

"No, I did not," Alice said honestly. "Not as you mean. Were you out with those hussies this afternoon while I sat here alone?"

Jocelin was immediately concerned. "You have been lonely?"

"Oh, yes, I have been lonely!" Alice said as she sank into a cushioned window seat. She was as gently lovely as when he'd first seen her at the Montgomery wedding; but now she had a finer-drawn look to her, as if she'd lost weight, and her eyes moved nervously from one point to another.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I am lonely. I have no one here who is my friend."

"How can that be? Surely your husband must love one as beautiful as you."

"Love!" she laughed. "Edmund loves nobody. He keeps me as if I were a bird in a cage. I see no one, talk to no one." She turned to look at a shadow in the room, her beautiful face twisted with hatred. "Except her!" she snarled.

Jocelin looked toward the shadow, unaware anyone was near them.

"Come out, you little slut," Alice sneered. "Let him see you. Don't hide away like some eater of carrion. Be proud of what you do."

Jocelin strained his eyes until he saw a young woman step forward, her figure slight, her shoulders bowed forward, her head lowered.

"Look up, you whore!" Alice commanded.

Jocelin's breath stopped when he looked into the young woman's eyes.

She was pretty—not of the beauty of Alice or the woman he'd seen as a bride, Judith Revedoune, but lovely nonetheless. It was her eyes that made him stare. They were violet pools filled with all the troubles of the world.

He had never seen such agony and despair.

"He sets her on me like a dog," Alice said, regaining Jocelin's attention.

"I cannot move without her following me. I tried to kill her once, but Edmund revived her. If I hurt her again, he threatened to lock me away for a month. I—" Just then Alice noticed her husband coming toward her.

He was a short, fat man with large jowls and a sleepy heavy-eyed look.

No one would guess that any mind except the simplest existed behind that face. But Alice had learned too well of his cunning intelligence.

"Come to me," she whispered to Jocelin before he nodded briefly to Edmund and left the hall.

"Your taste has changed," Edmund observed. "That one doesn't look at all like Gavin Montgomery."

Alice only stared at him. She knew there was no use talking to him.

She'd been married only a month, and every time she looked at her husband, she remembered the morning after her wedding. She had spent her wedding night alone.

In the morning, Edmund had called her to him. He was a changed man from the one Alice had first met.

"I trust you slept well," Edmund had said quietly, his little eyes in his too-fleshy face watching her.

Alice lowered her lashes prettily. "I was… lonely, my lord."

"You can stop your acting now!" Edmund ordered as he rose from his chair. "So! You think you can rule me and my estates, do you?"

"I… I have no idea what you mean," Alice stammered, her blue eyes meeting his.

"You—all of you, all of England—think I am a fool. Those muscled knights you thrash about with call me a coward because I refuse to risk my life fighting the king's battles. What do I care for anyone's battles except my own?"

Alice was stunned speechless.

"Ah, my dear, where is that simpering little look you wear for the men, those who drool over your beauty?"

"I don't understand."

Edmund walked across the room to a tall cabinet and poured himself some wine. It was a large, airy room set on the top floor of the lovely manor house of the Chatworth estate. All the furniture was of oak or walnut, finely carved, with wolf and squirrel pelts flung over the backs of the chairs. The glass he now drank from was made of rock crystal with little gold feet.

He held the crystal up to the sunlight. There were Latin words at the base of the vessel promising good fortune to the owner. "Do you have any idea why I married you?" He didn't give Alice a chance to answer. "I'm sure you must be the most vain woman in England. You probably thought I was as blind as that love-sick Gavin Montgomery. I know at least that you never even asked yourself why an earl would want to marry a penniless chit who slept with any man who had the equipment to please her."

Alice stood up. "I won't listen to this!"

Roughly, Edmund shoved her back into the chair. "Who do you think you are that you can tell me what you will do? I want you to understand one thing. I did not marry you for any love of you or because I was in awe of your so-called beauty."

He turned away from her and poured himself another glass of wine.

"Your beauty!" he sneered. "I can't see what that Montgomery would want with a boy like you when he has that Revedoune woman. Now, there's a woman to stir a man's blood."

Alice tried to attack Edmund with her hands made into claws, but he easily knocked her aside.

"I'm tired of these games. Your father owns two hundred acres in the middle of my estates. The filthy old man was about to sell it to the Earl of Weston, who has been my enemy and my father's enemy for years. Do you know what would have happened to my estates if Weston owned land in the middle of them? A stream runs through there. If he dammed it, I'd lose hundreds of acres of crops as well as my serfs dying of thirst. Your father was too stupid to realize I only wanted you to get the land."

Alice could only stare. Why hadn't he spoken to her about the land Weston wanted? "But, Edmund…" she said in her softest voice.

"Don't speak to me! For the last months I have had you watched. I know every man you've taken to your bed. And that Montgomery! Even at his wedding you threw yourself at him. I know about the time in the garden with him. Suicide! You? Ha! Did you know his wife saw your little play?

No, I thought not. I drank myself into a stupor so that I wouldn't hear the laughter aimed at me."

"But, Edmund—"

"I told you not to speak to me. I went ahead with the marriage because I couldn't bear the land going to Weston. Your father has promised the deed to me when you produce a grandchild for him."

Alice leaned back against the chair. A grandchild! She almost smiled.

When she'd been fourteen, she'd found herself pregnant and had gone to a filthy old woman in the village. The hag had removed the fetus. Alice had nearly died from the bleeding, but she'd been glad to get rid of the brat.