The Velvet Promise

by Jude Deveraux

  “What news?” John’s deep voice interrupted.

  Judith pulled away from her mother. “No, I am unharmed. I couldn’t come because I’ve had no time. Walter Demari keeps me at something every moment. If I mention a visit to you, he finds someplace I must go.” She sat down on a stool John placed behind her. “As for the news, I have seen Gavin.”

  Neither John nor Helen spoke.

  “They keep him in a hole below the cellar. It is a slimy place, and he cannot live much longer in it. I went to him and—”

  “You went into the pit?” Helen asked, astonished. “Not while you carry a child! You endangered the baby!”

  “Quiet!” John commanded. “Let her tell of Lord Gavin.”

  Judith looked at her mother, who usually cowered away from a man’s sharp tones, but Helen only obeyed and showed no fear. “He was very angry at me for being here and said that he had already arranged for our rescue. His brother Stephen has been sent for.”

  “Lord Stephen?” John asked, then smiled. “Ah yes. If we can hold out until he comes, we will be saved. He is a good fighter.”

  “That is what Gavin said. I am to keep Demari from me as long as I can, to give Stephen time to bring his men.”

  “What else did Lord Gavin say?”

  “Very little. He spent most of the time listing all that is wrong with me,” Judith said in disgust.

  “And are you able to keep Demari from you?” Helen wondered.

  Judith sighed. “It’s not easy. If he touches my wrist, his hand slides to my elbow. A hand on my waist rides up my ribs. I don’t respect the man. If he were to sit down and talk reasonably to me, I would sign half the Revedoune lands over to him for a copper if he would only free us all. Instead he offers me daisy chains and love poems. There are times when I want to scream in frustration.”

  “What of Sir Arthur?” John asked. “I cannot see that man making daisy chains.”

  “No, he just watches me. I am never away from his eyes staring at me. I feel there is something he plans, but I don’t know what.”

  “It will be the worst, I’m sure,” John said. “I wish I could help you!”

  “No, there is nothing I need help with now. I can only wait for Lord Stephen to arrive and negotiate or fight—whichever must be done. I will talk with him then.”

  “Talk?” John raised one eyebrow. “Stephen is little given to talking over his battle plans with women.”

  A knock sounded on the door. “I must go. Joan waits for me. I’m not sure I want Demari to know I’m here.”

  “Judith.” Helen grabbed her daughter’s arm. “You are caring for yourself?”

  “As well as I can. I am tired—that’s all.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I must go.”

  When they were alone, John turned to Helen. “Here, don’t cry,” he said sternly. “It will help nothing.”

  “I know,” Helen agreed. “She is just so alone. She has always been alone.”

  “And what of you—have you not also always been alone?”

  “I don’t matter. I am an old woman.”

  He grabbed her harshly under her arms and pulled her to him. “You are not old!” John said fiercely before his mouth came down on hers.

  Helen had been kissed by no man except her husband—and him only at the beginning of their marriage. She was startled by the chill that ran up her spine. She returned his kiss, her arms going about his neck, drawing him closer to her.

  He kissed her cheek, her neck, his heart pounding in his ears. “It is late,” he whispered, then swung her into his arms and carried her toward the bed. Each night he helped her unbutton her simple gown since she had no other maid. He was always respectful and kept his eyes turned away when she climbed into bed. Now he set her on her feet by the bed, then turned to walk away.

  “John,” she called, “you will not help me with the buttons?”

  He looked back at her, his eyes dark with passion. “Not tonight. If I were to help you undress, you wouldn’t climb into that bed alone.”

  Helen stared at him, the blood pounding through her body. Her experiences with a man in bed had been brutal times. But now she gazed at John and knew he would be different. What would it be like to lie happily in a man’s arms? She could hardly hear her own voice when she spoke. “I will still need help.”

  He walked to stand before her. “Are you sure? You are a lady. I am only your son-in-law’s vassal.”

  “You have come to mean a lot to me, John Bassett, and now I would have you be all.”

  He touched the hood at her forehead, then pushed it away completely. “Come, then,” he smiled. “Let me see those fastenings.”

  In spite of Helen’s brave words, she was afraid of John. She had grown to love him over the last few days, and she wanted to give him something. She had nothing except her body. She gave herself as a martyr. She knew men received great pleasure from the joining in bed, but for her it had only been a quick, rather messy affair. She had no idea it could be any different.

  She was surprised when he took his time undressing her. She thought a man would have thrown her skirts over her face and been done with it. John seemed to enjoy touching her. His fingers along her ribs sent little shivers through her skin. He lifted her dress over her head, then her underdress. He stepped away from her and looked at her as she stood wearing only the thin cotton chemise and her hose. He smiled warmly at her as if her body pleased him. He put his hands on her waist, then lifted the chemise away. His hands were on her breasts instantly, and Helen gasped in pleasure at his touch. He brought his lips to hers. She kept her eyes open as She stared in wonder. His gentleness sent waves of delight through her body. Her breasts ached against the rough wool of his doublet. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, her arms tightening. Never had she experienced this feeling before.

  John pulled away from her and began to remove his clothing. Helen’s heart was pounding. “Let me,” she heard herself say, then drew back at her own boldness. John smiled at her with just the expression she was feeling—rising passion.

  She’d never undressed a man before, except to help a visitor who she was helping to bathe. John’s body was stout and muscular, and she touched his skin as each garment fell to the floor. Her breasts touched his arm, sending little sparks through her body.

  When John was nude, he lifted Helen in his arms and carefully placed her in bed. She had a moment’s regret that now the pain would begin and the pleasure end. John lifted her foot and set it in his lap. As Helen watched breathlessly, he untied her garter and rolled the cotton stockings off, kissing her leg every inch of the way. By the time he reached her toes, Helen could no longer hold herself up. Her body was strangely weak, her heart was now hammering in her throat. She reached her arms out for him to come to her, but he would not.

  He reached for her other leg. Helen knew she could bear no more. Her body was beginning to ache for him. John laughed throatily and pushed away her clutching hands. It was an eternity before he’d kissed the other stocking off.

  Helen lay back against the pillows, weakly. John came to her, kissed her, and her hands buried themselves into his shoulders. He ran his hand firmly down her side and pulled away her underpants. She pressed against him, could feel that he was ready for her. But John was not through with his torture of her. His head bent to her breasts, his tongue and teeth making little nibbles on the hard pink crests. Helen moaned, her head moving from side to side on the pillow.

  John slowly moved a leg on top of her, then his whole weight. How good he felt! He was so strong and heavy. When he entered her, she cried out. She felt that she may as well be a virgin for all the experience she’d had in pleasure. Her husband had used her body, but John made love to her.

  Her passion was as fierce as John’s, and they came together in a fiery explosion. He pulled her close to him, his arm and one leg thrown across her as if he thought she’d try to escape. Helen burrowed herself even closer to him. If possible, she would have liked to s
lip inside his skin. Her body began to relax in the delicious pleasure of the aftermath of a night of love. She fell asleep with John’s soft breath in her ear and on her neck.

  Judith sat at the high table between Walter and Arthur. She picked at her food, unable to choke down the poorly cooked meal. But had it been the best food, it would not have mattered. She wore a cream silk undertunic and over it a gown of royal blue velvet. The large, hanging sleeves of the gown were lined with blue satin which was embroidered with tiny gold half-moons. A gold filigree belt with a buckle set with a single large cabochon sapphire was about her waist.

  Walter’s hands constantly touched her. They were on her wrists, her arm, her neck. He didn’t seem to realize they were in a public place. But Judith was very aware of the twenty-five knights who unabashedly stared at her. She could feel the speculation in their eyes. As she jabbed her fork into a piece of beef, she wished it were Walter’s heart. It was a difficult thing to swallow one’s pride.

  “Judith,” Walter whispered hoarsely into her ear. “I could devour you.” He pressed his lips to her neck, and she could feel shudders of revulsion shaking her. “Why do we wait? Can’t you feel my love for you? Don’t you know of my desire for you?”

  Judith kept herself stiff, refusing to allow herself to pull her body away. He nibbled at her neck, nuzzled her shoulder and she couldn’t show how she felt. “My lord,” she managed to say after several hard swallows, “don’t you remember your own words? You said we must wait.”

  “I cannot,” he choked. “I cannot wait for you.”

  “But you must!” Judith said with more anger than she had intended and jerked her hand from his violently. “Listen to me. What if I give in to my passions for you and go to your bed? Don’t you think a child would be made? What will the king say when we appear before him with my belly swollen? Do you think anyone would believe the child is not my husband’s? No annulment can be had if I carry his child. And you know a divorce must come from the pope. I have heard that one takes years.”

  “Judith—” Walter began, then stopped. Her words made sense. They also appealed to his vanity. How well he remembered Robert Revedoune saying that he gave his daughter to the Montgomery men to get sons. He knew he—Walter—could give her sons! She was right. If they were to come together, they would create a son in the first mating. He took a deep drink of wine, his mind mixed with pride and frustration.

  “When do we go to the king, my lord?” Judith asked bluntly. Perhaps she could arrange an escape on their journey.

  They sat at the dinner table, but Walter paid little attention to his audience. Now Arthur spoke. “Are you anxious to declare your desire for an annulment to the king?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “Come, my lady, we are your friends. You can speak freely. Is your passion for Lord Walter so deep that you cannot wait to declare it to the world?”

  “I don’t like your tone,” Walter interjected. “She has nothing to prove. She is a guest, not a prisoner. She was not forced to come here.”

  Arthur smiled, his eyes narrowed. “Yes, she came freely,” he said in a loud voice. Then, as he reached past Judith for a cut of meat, he lowered his voice. “But why did my lady come? I have yet to have an answer.”

  The meal seemed horribly long to Judith and she couldn’t wait to leave. When Walter turned his back to her to speak to his steward, Judith seized the opportunity to get up from the table. She ran up the stairs, her heart pounding wildly. How much longer could she hold out against Walter Demari? Each minute his advances became more forward. She stopped running and leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to recover herself. Why did she always believe she could handle everything by herself?

  “There you are!”

  Judith looked up to see Arthur standing near her. They were alone in a deep recess of the thick walls.

  “Are you looking for an escape route?” he smirked. “There is none. We are quite alone.” His strong arm reached out and encircled her waist, pulling her close to him. “Where is that ready tongue of yours? Are you going to try to talk me out of touching you?” His hand ran over her arm, caressing it. “You are lovely enough to cause a man to lose his mind. I almost understand Walter’s reluctance to bed you.” He looked back at her face. “I see no fear in those gold eyes, but I would like to see them blaze with the heat of passion. Do you think I could make them do so?”

  His hard lips swooped down on hers, but Judith felt nothing. She remained rigid against him.

  He broke away from her. “You are an icy bitch,” he growled, then crushed her closer to him. She gasped as the air was forced from her lungs. He took advantage of her open mouth and seized it again, thrusting his tongue inside until Judith gagged. His embrace hurt her; his mouth disgusted her.

  Arthur pulled away from her again, loosening his hold, but he didn’t release her. His eyes showed anger at first, then changed to mockery. “No, you are not cold. No woman with such hair and eyes could be. But who is it that melts that ice? Is it Walter with his hand-kissing, or perhaps it is that husband of yours?”

  “No!” Judith said then closed her lips.

  Arthur smiled. “For all Walter thinks otherwise, you are a poor actress.” Arthur’s face turned hard. “Walter is a stupid man, but I’m not. He thinks you came to this place out of love for him, but I don’t believe it. If I were a woman, I would hope to use my beauty to free those I loved. Is it your plan to bargain yourself in exchange for your mother’s and husband’s release?”

  “Let me go!” Judith demanded, twisting in his arms.

  He held her more firmly. “You cannot escape me. Don’t even try.”

  “What of Walter?” she challenged.

  He laughed. “You play the game well, but beware that you play with fire and will get burned. Do you think I fear a bit of slime like Demari? I can handle him. Who do you think thought of this idea of annulment?”

  Judith stopped struggling.

  “Ah! So I have your attention. Listen to me. Walter will have you first, but you will be mine later. When he has grown tired of you and begins to take other women, you will be mine.”

  “I would sooner bed a viper,” she hissed as his hand bit into her arm.

  “Even to save that mother of yours?” he said in a deadly voice. “You have done a lot for her already. What more would you do?”

  “You shall never know!”

  He pulled her against him again. “Won’t I? You think yourself a lady of some power while you hold that fool Demari in your hands, but I will show you who has the power here.”

  “What…what do you mean?”

  He smiled. “You will know soon enough.”

  She tried to recover from the awful feeling his words gave her. “What are you going to do? You wouldn’t hurt my mother?”

  “No, I’m not so unsubtle as that. Only a bit of fun. It will do me good to see you squirm. When you have had enough, come to my bed some night and we will talk.”

  “Never!”

  “Don’t be so hasty.” Suddenly Arthur released her. “I must go. You have my words to think about.”

  When she was alone, Judith stood very still, breathing deeply to calm herself. She turned toward her room, but was startled to see a man standing quietly in the shadows. He leaned lazily against the opposite wall of the hall. A lute was slung across his broad shoulders, and he idly used a knife to trim his nails. Judith did not know what made her look at him, except that he could have heard some of Arthur’s threats. Yet her eyes were drawn to him though he did not raise his head to look at her. As she stared at him, he lifted his face to look at her. His dark blue eyes looked at her with such hate that she gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she bit the back of it.

  She turned and ran down the hall to her room where she threw herself onto her bed. The tears came slowly, fighting their way up from the pit of her stomach before they found release.

  “My lady,” Joan whispered as she stroked Judith’s hair. They h
ad grown closer in the last few days as the difference in their stations was lessened. “Has he hurt you?”

  “No, I have hurt myself. Gavin said I should have stayed home with my sewing. I’m afraid he was right.”

  “Sewing,” the maid questioned, smiling. “You would have snarled the threads worse than you snarl things here.”

  Judith looked up, aghast. Then, through her tears, she said, “You are good for me. I felt sorry for myself for a moment. You took Gavin food last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how did he look?”

  Joan frowned. “Weaker.”

  “How can I help them?” Judith demanded of herself. “Gavin said I was to wait for his brother Stephen, but how long? I must get Gavin out of that hole!”

  “Yes, my lady, you must.”

  “But how?”

  Joan was serious. “Only God can answer that.”

  That night, Arthur answered Judith’s question. They sat at supper, a meal of soup and stews. Walter was quiet, not touching Judith as he usually did, but looking at her from the corner of his eye, as if he were judging her.

  “Do you like the food, Lady Judith?” Arthur asked.

  She nodded.

  “Let us hope the entertainment pleases you also.”

  She started to ask what he meant, but did not. She wouldn’t give the man such satisfaction.

  Arthur leaned forward to look at Walter. “Don’t you think it’s time?”

  Walter started to protest, but then seemed to think better of it. It was obviously something he and Arthur had discussed thoroughly. Walter waved his hand to two men-at-arms waiting by the doorway, and the men left.

  Judith could not even swallow the food in her mouth and had to wash it down with wine. She knew Arthur planned some trick, and she wanted to be ready for it. She glanced about the hall nervously. Again she saw the man she’d seen in the hallway that afternoon. He was tall and slim with dark blond hair with a few lighter streaks. His jaw was strong and set in a firm line above a cleft chin. But his eyes were what held her. They were a deep, dark blue that blazed with the fire of hatred—hatred that was directed toward her. He mesmerized her.