The Velvet Promise (37 page)

"You aren't really angry?" Judith asked.

"No," Gavin sighed. "But I didn't like seeing a man touch you—even my own brother."

Judith took a deep breath. "If they come at Christmas, the baby will be born then."

The baby, Gavin thought. Not "my baby" or "our baby," but "the baby."

He didn't like to think of the child. "Come, we must break camp. We have stayed here too long."

Judith followed him, blinking back tears. They didn't mention the time at Demari's castle nor did they talk of the baby. Should she tell him that the child could only be his? Should she plead with him to listen to her, to believe her? She could count days and tell him how far along she was, but once Gavin had hinted that she might have slept with Demari at her wedding. She returned to the tent to direct the maids in the packing.

They made camp early that night. There was no hurrying to reach London, and Gavin enjoyed the time on the journey. He had begun to feel close to his wife. They often talked as if they were friends. Gavin found himself sharing childhood secrets with her, telling her of the fears he'd had when his father died and left him with so much land to manage.

He sat now at a table, a ledger open before him. Every penny spent must be recorded and accounted for. It was a tedious job, but his steward had fallen ill with some fever, and Gavin could not trust one of his knights'

ciphering.

He took a drink from a mug of cider and looked across the room to his wife. She sat on a stool by the open tent flap, a ball of blue yarn in her lap.

Her hands struggled with a long pair of knitting needles. As he watched, she made more and more of a mess. Her lovely face was contorted with the effort, the tiny tip of her tongue showing between her lips. He looked again at the books and realized that her attempt at knitting was an effort to please him. He had told her often enough of his displeasure when she interfered in the castle business.

Gavin smothered a laugh as she snarled at the yarn and muttered something beneath her breath. He calmed himself. "Judith," he said,

"perhaps you can help me. You don't mind setting that aside?" he asked with all the seriousness he could muster. He tried not to smile as she eagerly tossed the yarn and needles against the tent wall.

Gavin pointed to the ledger. "We've spent too much on this journey, but I don't know why."

Judith pulled the ledger around. Here at least was something she understood. She ran her fingers down the columns, her eyes moving from one side to another. She stopped suddenly. "Five marks for bread! Who has been charging so much?"

"I don't know," Gavin said honestly. "I only eat the stuff, I don't bake it."

"You have been eating gold! I shall tend to this straightaway. Why didn't you show me this before?"

"Because, dear wife, I thought I could run my life on my own. Pity any man who thinks so."

She stared at him. "I will find this baker!" she said as she started to leave the tent.

"Shouldn't you take your knitting? Perhaps you won't find enough to occupy you."

Judith looked over her shoulder at Gavin and saw he was teasing her.

She returned his smile, then picked up the ball of yarn and tossed it to him. "Perhaps
you
are the one who needs occupation." She glared pointedly at the ledgers, then left the tent.

Gavin sat and held the yarn for a moment, turning it around in his hands. The tent was too empty when she was gone. He went to the open flap and leaned against the pole, watching her. She never screamed at a servant, but somehow she got more work out of them than he ever had.

She took care of the food, the laundry, the setting up of camp, everything, with ease. Yet she never showed any strain and one would never guess she managed six things at once.

She finished talking to the man whose cart was loaded with bread. The short, fat man went away, shaking his head, and Gavin smiled in amusement. He knew just how the baker felt. How many times had Gavin been right yet felt he'd lost the argument? Judith could twist words around until a person couldn't remember his own thoughts.

Gavin watched her walk about the camp. She stopped to taste the stew in a pot, spoke to Gavin's squire where the boy sat on a stool polishing his master's armor. The boy nodded and smiled at her, and Gavin knew there would be some small change made in the simple procedure. And the change would be for the better. Never had he lived or traveled in such comfort—and with such little effort made on his part. He remembered the times he left his tent in the morning and stepped into a pile of horse manure. Now he doubted if Judith allowed the muck to hit the ground.

His camp was the cleanest he had ever seen.

Judith felt him staring at her and turned and smiled, looking away from the chickens she inspected. Gavin felt his chest tighten. What did he feel for her? Did it matter that even now she carried another man's child? All he knew was that he wanted her.

He walked across the grass and took her arm. "Come inside with me."

"But I must—"

"You would rather stay outside?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

She smiled delightedly. "No, I don't think so."

They made love leisurely, savoring each other's bodies until their passion mounted. This was what Gavin loved about making love to Judith.

The variety. She never seemed to be the same twice. One time she would be quiet and sensual, the next aggressive and demanding. At other times she would be laughing and teasing, another acrobatic, experimental. But no matter how she was, he loved loving her. Even the thought of touching her excited him.

Now he held her close, his nose buried in her hair. She moved against him as if she could get closer to him; it was not possible. He kissed the top of her head drowsily and fell asleep.

"You are falling in love with him," Joan said the next morning as she combed her mistress's hair. The light through the tent walls was soft and dappled. Judith wore a dress of soft green wool, a braided leather belt about her waist. Even in the simple, unadorned traveling garment, her skin glowed and her eyes were all the jewels she needed.

"I assume you refer to my husband."

"Oh, no," Joan said nonchalantly. "I meant the pie man."

"And how… can you tell?"

Joan didn't answer.

"Isn't it right for a woman to love her husband?"

"It is if the love is returned. But be careful and don't fall so hard for him that you are torn apart if he is untrue."

"He has hardly been out of my sight," Judith said in his defense.

"True, but what of when you are at the king's court? You won't be alone with Lord Gavin then. There will be the most beautiful women in England.

Any man's eyes would stray."

"Be quiet!" Judith commanded. "And tend to my hair."

"Yes, my lady," Joan said mockingly.

All day, as they traveled, Judith thought of Joan's words. Was she beginning to fall in love with her husband? She had seen him once in another woman's arms. She had been angry then but angry at the fact that he paid her so little respect. But now the idea of seeing him with another woman made her feel as if little slivers of ice were being driven through her heart.

"Judith, are you well?" Gavin asked from the horse beside her.

"Yes… no."

"Which is it?"

"I am worried about King Henry's court. Are there many… pretty women there?"

Gavin looked across her to Stephen. "What do you say, brother? Are the women at court lovely?"

Stephen looked at his sister-in-law, unsmiling. "I believe you will hold your own," he said calmly, then reined his horse away, going back to his men.

Judith turned to Gavin. "I didn't mean to offend him."

"You didn't. Stephen keeps his worries to himself but I know he dreads his coming marriage. And I don't blame him. The girl hates the English and is sure to make his life hell."

Judith nodded and looked back at the road.

It was when they stopped for dinner that she was able to escape for a few moments. She found a wild raspberry bush outside the camp and set to filling the skirt of her tunic.

"You shouldn't be here alone."

Judith gasped. "Stephen, you startled me."

"If I were an enemy, you could be dead now—or else taken and held for ransom."

Judith stared up at him. "Are you always so full of gloom, Stephen, or is it just this Scottish heiress who worries you so?"

Stephen let out his breath. "Am I so transparent?"

"Not to me, but to Gavin. Come and let's sit awhile. Do you think we could be thoroughly selfish and eat all these berries ourselves? Have you seen your Scottish lady?"

"No," Stephen said, plopping a sun-warmed berry in his mouth. "And she is not mine yet. Did you know that her father made her laird of the MacArran clan before he died?"

"A woman who inherits on her own?" Judith's eyes had a faraway look.

"Yes," Stephen said in disgust.

Judith recovered herself. "Then you don't know what she looks like?"

"Oh yes, I know that. I'm sure she is as small and dark and shriveled as a pine cone."

"Is she old?"

"Maybe she is a young, fat pine cone."

Judith laughed at his air of doom. "All four of you brothers are so different. Gavin is so quick-tempered—icy one moment, fire the next.

Raine is laughter and teasing, and Miles is…"

Stephen smiled at her. "Don't attempt to explain Miles to me. That boy tries to populate all of England with his children."

"And what of you? Where do you fit? You are a middle son, and you seem to me the least easy to know."

Stephen looked away. "It wasn't easy when I was a boy. Miles and Raine had each other. Gavin had the worry of the estates. And I…"

"You were left alone."

Stephen looked at Judith in astonishment. "You have bewitched me! In only moments I have told you more than I have ever told anyone else."

Judith's eyes sparkled. "If this heiress of yours is not kind to you, let me know and I will scratch her eyes out."

"Let's just hope she has both of them to begin with."

They burst into laughter.

"Let's hurry and eat these or we'll have to share them. If I'm not mistaken, Elder Brother approaches."

"Do I ever find you except in the company of men?" Gavin frowned down at them.

"Do you ever greet me with anything except criticism?" Judith retorted.

Stephen snorted with laughter. "I think I should return to camp." He leaned over and kissed Judith's forehead. "If you need help, little sister, I too can find another's eyes."

Gavin grabbed his brother's arm. "Has she enticed you, too?"

Stephen looked back at his sister-in-law, her lips stained dark pink with berry juice. "Yes. If you do not want her…"

Gavin gave him a look of disgust. "Raine has already asked."

Stephen laughed and walked away.

"Why did you leave the camp?" Gavin asked as he sat beside her and took a handful of berries from her lap.

"We reach London tomorrow, don't we?"

"Yes. The king and queen don't frighten you, do they?"

"No, not them."

"What then?"

"The… women of the court."

"Are you jealous?" he laughed.

"I don't know."

"How could I have time for other women when you're near? You keep me so tired, I do well to stay on my horse."

She did not laugh with him. "There is only one woman I fear. She has separated us before. Don't let her—"

Gavin's face was hard. "Don't speak of her. I have treated you well. I don't pry into what happened at Demari's; yet you seek my soul."

"And she is your soul?" Judith asked quietly.

Gavin looked at her, her eyes warm, her skin soft and fragrant. The past nights of passion flooded his memory. "Don't ask me," he whispered. "I'm sure of one thing only, and that is that my soul is not my own."

The first thing Judith noticed about London was the stench. She thought she knew all the smells humans could create having spent summers in castles overrun with heat and humanity. But nothing prepared her for London. Open gutters ran on each side of the cobbled streets, overflowing with all manner of waste. From the heads of fish and rotting vegetables to the contents of the chamber pots, it all lay in the streets. Pigs and rats ran freely, eating the refuse, spreading it everywhere.

The houses, half-timbered and stone structures were three and four stories high, and so close together that little air and no sun reached between them. The horror Judith felt must have showed on her face, for both Gavin and Stephen laughed at her.

"Welcome to the city of kings," Stephen said.

Once inside the walls of Winchester, the noise and stench were less. A man came to take their horses, and as soon as Gavin helped Judith from hers, she turned to see to the ordering of the carts of baggage and furniture.

"No," Gavin said. "I am sure the king has heard of our arrival. He won't appreciate waiting while you set his castle to rights."

"My clothes are clean? They aren't too mussed?" Judith had dressed carefully that morning in a tawny silk undertunic and a bright yellow velvet dress. The long, hanging sleeves were lined with the finest Russian sable. There was also a wide border of sable along the hem of the gown.

"You are perfect. Now come and let the king look at you."