The Velvet Promise (11 page)

"Lady Judith."

A soft voice finally penetrated her senses, and she turned to see an older woman dressed in the somber habit of a nun.

"I would like to introduce myself. I met you yesterday, but I am not sure you will remember. I am Gavin's sister, Mary." Mary was staring at her brother's back. It was not like Gavin to walk away and leave a woman unattended. All four of her brothers—Gavin, Stephen, Raine and Miles—

were extremely courteous. Yet Gavin had not smiled once at his bride, and although he did not participate in the games, he went to the tents. Mary could not understand him at all.

Gavin walked through the crowds to the tents at the end of the lists.

Many people slapped him on the back and gave him knowing winks. The closer he got to the tents, the louder came the familiar clang of iron and steel. He hoped that the sanity of mock war would calm him.

He held his shoulders back, kept his eyes straight ahead. No one would have guessed the blind rage that filled him. She was a bitch! A conniving, masterful bitch! All he could think was that he wanted to beat her and make love to her at the same time. He had stood there and watched as she smiled so sweetly at his brothers; yet when she looked at him, it was as if he were something detestable.

And all he could think of was the way she'd been with him during the night. She had kissed him greedily, held him to her hungrily, but only after he had forced her to come to him. He'd raped her once, used the pain of her hair twisted around his arm to command her to him the second time.

Even the third time, he had had to act against her initial protest. Yet she laughed and gave his brothers gold ribbons—gold like her eyes. If she gave such passion to him whom she freely admitted she hated, what would she be like with a man she liked? He had watched her with Raine and Miles, imagined them touching her, kissing her. Suddenly it was all Gavin could do to keep from knocking her to the ground. He wanted to hurt her, and he had. At least there was some satisfaction in that, except that he got no pleasure from it. In truth, the expression on her face only made him more furious. The damn woman had no right to look at him so coldly.

Angrily, he threw back the flap of Miles's tent. Since Miles was on the field, it should have been empty, but it wasn't. Alice stood there, her eyes sedately lowered, her little mouth submissive. She was a welcome relief to Gavin, who'd had too much in the last day of a woman who snarled at him then drove him insane with her body. Alice was what a woman should be—

calm, a subordinate to a man. Without thought, he grabbed her, kissing her violently. He enjoyed it when she melted in his arms. She offered no resistance, and he was glad of that.

Alice had never seen Gavin in such a mood, and she silently thanked whoever was responsible. Yet, for all her desire, she was no fool. A tournament was too public, especially when so many of Gavin's relatives camped nearby. "Gavin," she whispered against his lips, "this is neither the place nor the time."

He pulled away from her immediately, feeling that at that moment he could not stand another reluctant female. "Go then!" he stormed as he left the tent.

Alice looked after him, a frown creasing her smooth brow. Obviously, the pleasure of bedding his new wife had not turned him from herself, as she feared it might. But still he was not the Gavin she knew.

Walter Demari could not take his eyes off Judith. She sat quietly in the Montgomery pavilion, listening attentively to her new relatives as they welcomed her to the family. Every minute since he'd first seen her, when she left the castle to ride to the church, he had watched her. He'd seen Judith slip away to the walled garden behind the tower, seen the look on her face when she returned. He felt as if he knew her, and more than that… he loved her. He loved the way she walked, with her head up, her chin firm, as if she were ready to face the world no matter what lay ahead.

He loved her eyes, her little nose.

He'd spent the night alone, thinking of her, imagining her as his.

Now, after a sleepless night, he began to wonder why she was not his.

His family was as rich as that of the Montgomerys and more. He'd been a frequent visitor to the Revedoune manor, a friend to Judith's brothers.

Robert Revedoune had just purchased a lapful of fried wafers from one of the vendors and was holding a mug of verjuice.

Walter did not hesitate or take time to explain what had become a burning issue to him. "Why didn't you offer the girl to me?" he demanded, towering over the seated man.

Robert looked up in surprise. "What ails you, boy? You should be on the field with the other men."

Walter sat down and ran his hand through his hair. He was not an unattractive man, but neither was he handsome. He had eyes of a nondescript blue and a too-prominent nose. His lips were thin, shapeless, and could easily be cruel. His sandy hair was carefully curled into a tight little roll about his neck. "The girl, your daughter," he repeated. "Why didn't you offer her to me? I spent enough time with your sons. I'm not rich, but my estates rival those of Gavin Montgomery."

Robert shrugged, eating a wafer, the jelly oozing out between the crisp layers, and drinking deeply of the sour verjuice. "There are other rich women for you," he observed noncommittally.

"But not like her!" Walter responded vehemently.

Robert looked at him in surprise.

"Can't you see she is beautiful?" Walter asked.

Robert looked across the pavilions that separated him from his daughter. "Yes, I see she is beautiful," he said with disgust. "But what is beauty? It fades in no time. Her mother once looked like that, and you see her now."

Walter did not have to look back at the nervous, emaciated woman who sat on the edge of her seat, ready to spring should her husband decide to cuff her. He ignored Robert's remark. "Why did you keep her hidden?

What need was there to keep her from the world?"

"It was her mother's idea." Robert smiled slightly. "She paid for the keeping of the girl, and it made no difference to me. Why do you ask me these things now? Can't you see the joust is about to begin?"

Walter grabbed Robert by the arm. He knew the man well, knew him for the cowardice of his actions. "Because I want her. Never have I seen a woman more desirable. She should have been mine! My lands ajoin yours.

I am a fit match for her, yet you did not even show her to me."

Robert pulled his arm away from the young man. "You! A fit match?" he sneered. "Look at the Montgomerys that surround the girl. There is Thomas, nearly sixty years old. He has six sons, all living, and all producing more sons. Next to him sits Ralph, his cousin, with five sons.

Then Hugh with—"

"What has this to do with your daughter?" Walter interrupted angrily.

"Sons!" Robert bellowed in the man's ear. "The Montgomerys produce more sons that any other family in England. And what sons! Look at the family the girl married into. The youngest, Miles, won his spurs on the field of battle before he was eighteen, and already he has fathered three sons of the serf girls. Raine spent three years touring the country from one tournament to the next. He was undefeated and won a fortune of his own.

Stephen serves now in Scotland with the king, and already he leads armies though he is only twenty-five. And last comes the eldest. At sixteen he was left alone with estates to run, brothers to care for. He had no guardian to help him learn the work of a man. What other sixteen-year-olds could do as he did? Most of them whine when they are not given their way."

He looked back at Walter. "And now you ask why I give Judith to such a man? If I cannot produce sons that are strong enough to live, perhaps I can get grandsons from her."

Walter was furious. He'd lost Judith merely because the old man dreamed of grandsons. "I could give her sons!" Walter said through clenched teeth.

"You.'" Robert began to laugh. "How many sisters do you have? Five?

Six? I lose count of them. And what have you done? Your father runs your estates. You do little, except hunt and tickle the serf girls. Now leave me and don't cry to me again. If I have a mare I want bred, I give her to the best stallion. It will be left at that." He turned back to look at the joust, dismissing Walter from his mind.

But Demari was not a man to be dismissed so easily. Everything Robert said was true. Walter had done little of merit in his short life, but that was only because he had not been forced to as the Montgomery men had been.

Walter had no doubt that had he been forced, by the early death of his father, into a position of responsibility, he would have done as well or better than any other man.

He left the stands a changed man. A seed had been planted in his mind and that seed began to grow. He watched the games begin, the gold Montgomery leopard everywhere, and as he saw it glitter in the sun, he began to think of it as an enemy. He wanted to prove to Robert and to the Montgomerys, but mostly to himself, that he was everything they were.

The longer he stared at the green and gold pennants, the more he was sure he hated the Montgomerys. What had they done to deserve the rich Revedoune lands? Why should they have what should have been his? For years he'd suffered the company of Judith's brothers, yet had never taken anything in return. Now, when there was something he wanted and should have had, he was denied it because of the Montgomerys.

Walter left the fence and started walking toward the Montgomery pavilion. The growing anger at the injustice he felt gave him courage. He would talk to this Judith, spend time with her. After all, by rights, she was his, wasn't she?

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Judith slammed shut her chamber door so hard that even the stone walls seemed to shake. It was the end of the first day of her marriage, and it could easily qualify as the most horrible day of her life. It should have been happy, a day full of love and laughter—but not with the husband she had!

There had not been an opportunity missed by Gavin to humiliate her.

In the morning he accused her of being a whore for his brothers. When he stalked away and left her to herself, she talked to other people. One man, Walter Demari, was kind enough to sit by her and explain the workings of the tourney. For the first time that day, she began to enjoy herself. Walter had a knack for seeking the ridiculous, and she greatly enjoyed his humor.

Gavin suddenly reappeared and commanded her to follow him. Judith didn't want to cause a scene in public, but in the privacy of Raine's tent, she told Gavin what she thought of his behavior. He left her alone to take care of herself, but when she showed any enjoyment, he took it away from her. He was like a small boy with a toy he didn't want but made sure no one else could have it. He'd sneered at Judith then, but she saw with satisfaction that he had no answer for her.

When Raine and Miles came in she and Gavin stopped their quarrel.

Later, she walked with Miles back to the tourney. It was then that Gavin truly demeaned her. As soon as Alice Valence appeared, he practically ran forward. Gavin looked as if he could eat her, devour her, yet at the same time he looked at her with reverence, as if she were saintly. Judith had not missed the sidelong look of triumph Alice gave her. Judith pulled her eyes away, straightened her back and took Miles' arm. She would let no one see how she'd been publicly embarrassed.

Later, at dinner, Gavin ignored Judith, even though they were seated side by side at the high table. She laughed at the jester, pretended to be pleased when an extremely handsome jongleur composed and sang a song to her beauty. Truthfully, she hardly heard him. Gavin's nearness had an unsettling effect on her, and she could enjoy nothing.

After the meal, the trestle tables were dismantled and pushed against the wall to make room for dancing. After one dance together, for the sake of propriety, Gavin had proceeded to whirl one woman after another in his arms. Judith had more invitations to dance than she could accept, but soon she pleaded fatigue and ran up the stairs to the privacy of her room.

"A bath," she demanded of Joan, whom she'd dragged from a corner of the stairwell where she was intertwined with a young man. "Bring a tub and hot water. Maybe I can wash away some of today's stench."

Contrary to what Judith believed, Gavin had been very aware of his wife's presence. There had not been a moment when he had not known where she was or whom she was with. It seemed she had talked for hours to some man at the tourney. She laughed at his every word, smiling up at him until the man was obviously besotted.

Gavin had pulled her away for her own good. He knew Judith had no idea how she affected a man. She was like a child. Everything was new to her. She looked up at the man with nothing hidden, nothing held in reserve. She laughed openly at what he said, and Gavin could see the man took her friendliness for more than she meant it to be.

Gavin meant to explain this to her, but when she attacked him, accusing him of all manner of insulting things, he would have died rather than explain his actions. He'd feared that he might wrap his hands about her lovely throat. At least Alice's brief appearance had calmed him. Alice was like a cool drink for a man just stepped from the rages of hell.