The Velvet Promise

by Jude Deveraux

  “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 dantily 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.

  Chapter Ten

  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?”

  “Raine,” Judith began, “you know exactly what I mean. I would like for you to play for me.”

  Raine smiled down at her, the firelight gleaming on her auburn hair, the wool dress showing off her tantalizing body. But her beauty wasn’t what threatened to drive him insane. Beauty was sometimes found even in the serfs. No, it was Judith herself. He had never met a woman with her honesty, her logic, her intelligence. If she were a man…He smiled. If she were a man, he wouldn’t be in such danger of falling hopelessly in love with her. He knew he had to get away from Judith soon even though his leg was only half-healed.

  Raine glanced over her head and saw Gavin leaning against the door frame, watching his wife’s profile illuminated by the flames. “Here, Gavin,” he called. “Come and play for your wife. I find this leg pains me too much to enjoy anything. I have been giving Judith lessons, but she is no good at all.” His eyes twinkled as he looked down at his sister-in-law, but she merely stared at her hands which were clasped in her lap.

  Gavin strode forward. “I’m glad to hear there is something that my wife doesn’t do to perfection,” he laughed. “Do you know that today she had the fishpond cleaned? I hear the men found a Norman castle at the bottom of it.” He stopped when Judith stood.

  “You must pardon me,” she said quietly. “I find I am more tired than I knew, and I wish to retire.” Without another word, she left the hall.

  Gavin, the smile gone from his face, sank into a cushioned chair.

  Raine looked at his brother with sympathy. “Tomorrow I must return to my own estates.”

  If Gavin heard, he made no acknowledgment.

  Raine signaled to one of the servants to help him to his chamber.

  Judith glanced about the bedchamber with new eyes. No longer was it hers alone. Now her husband had come home, and he had the right to share it with her. Share the room, share the bed, share her body. She undressed hastily and climbed beneath the sheets. She’d dismissed her maids earlier, wanting some solitude. Although Judith was tired after the day’s activities, she stared at the linen canopy with open eyes. After a long while, she heard footsteps outside the door. She held her breath for a long moment then hesitantly the footsteps retreated. She was glad, of course, Judith told herself, but that didn’t warm the cold bed. Why should Gavin want her, she thought as quick tears came to her eyes. No doubt he’d spent the last week with his beloved Alice. No doubt his passion was completely spent and he wanted no more from his wife.

  In spite of her thoughts, her fatigue from the long day eventually conspired to make her sleep.

  She awoke very early. It was still dark in the room; only the faintest light came through the shutters. The entire castle was still asleep, and Judith found the silence pleasant. She knew she could not sleep longer, nor did she want to. This still-dark time of the morning was her favorite.

  She quickly dressed in a simple gown of finely woven dark blue wool called perse. Her soft leather slippers made no sound on the wooden steps or as she walked through the sleeping men in the great hall. Outsi
de, the light was dark gray but her eyes quickly adjusted. Beside the manor house was a little walled garden. It had been one of the first things Judith had seen at her new home and one of the last she felt she could give her attention to. There were rows of roses, a great variety of color, their blooms almost hidden beneath dead stems on the long-neglected bushes.

  The fragrance in the cool early morning air was heady. Judith smiled as she bent over one of the bushes. The other work had been necessary, but the pruning of the roses was a labor of love.

  “They belonged to my mother.”

  Judith gasped at the voice so near her. She had heard no one approach.

  “Everywhere she went, she collected slips of other people’s roses,” Gavin continued as he knelt beside Judith, touching one of the blooms.

  The time and the place seemed otherworldly. She could almost forget that she hated him. She turned back to her pruning. “Your mother died when you were small?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes. Too small. Miles hardly knew her.”

  “And your father didn’t remarry?”

  “He spent the rest of his life mourning her, what little time was left to him. He died only three years after her. I was only sixteen.”

  Judith had never heard him sound so sad before. Truthfully, she had heard little in Gavin’s voice except anger. “You were very young to have been left with the running of your father’s estates.”

  “A year younger than you, yet you seem to run this property well. Far better than I did, or have done since.” There was admiration in his voice, yet a bit of hurt also.

  “But I was trained for this work,” she said quickly. “You were trained only as a knight. It would have been harder for you to learn what to do.”

  “I was told you were trained for the church.” He was surprised.

  “Yes,” Judith said as she moved to another bush. “My mother wished for me to escape a life such as she has known. She spent her girlhood in a nunnery and was very happy there. It was only when she married that—” Judith stopped, not wanting to finish the sentence.