Chapter Twenty-Two
When Gavin departed the throne room, leaving a flabbergasted and glowering Reginald D'Orrais behind, he knew his first action must be to speak with Madelyne.
As much as he had been shocked by his own actions, and needed the opportunity to assimilate this new event himself, he must talk with her before D'Orrais-or some other wagging tongue of the court-did.
At the least he knew he wouldn't find her with D'Orrais this time. Gavin's mouth flattened into a humorless smile. If the man stepped foot near her again, Gavin would put him out of his misery.
This thought checked his rapid footsteps-only for a moment, but enough for Gavin to reflect on how strongly and quickly the possessive urge had come over him. He rather found he liked it.
As he neared Eleanor's solar-where he was sure he would find Madelyne, as 'twas midday-Gavin's footsteps slowed. What would she say? What could she say, he reminded himself. The king had made his decision and they would wed.
How would he tell her? Would she wish to have Reginald in the stead of himself? She had appeared accepting of that eventuality. . . yet, there was the kiss they shared. . . . He knew that Reginald's kiss could not have affected her the same way his own had. After all, Gavin himself had interrupted them, and he'd seen nothing of glazed eyes or swollen lips when they broke apart.
Still. 'Twas he, Gavin, who had dragged her from her life in the abbey, and he was certainly not such a prize as the young, handsome, gentle D'Orrais. . . .
He'd reached the door to the solar, and the page waited expectantly for him to speak. "I seek Lady Madelyne de Belgrume," he told him. It was unnecessary to identify himself.
When he stepped into the chamber in the wake of the page, the room-scented with the myriad of perfumes of the ladies and studded with their colorful apparel-skittered into silence. His gaze immediately found Madelyne and he saw that she sat near Judith. She was clad in a soft gray gown and white over-tunic, both trimmed with blue and yellow embroidery. Her gleaming ink-colored hair coiled intricately over her ears, pulled back softly to frame her fair, oval face. Their eyes met, and he felt the unmistakable bump of his heart shifting out of line. . . and then back. . . as he realized that she really belonged to him. He felt Therese's eyes upon him, and heard snatches of whispers and sighs as he strode to his betrothed's side.
"My lady, I wish to speak with you," he told her with a brief bow. He glanced at Judith, who looked at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes. It was leaning toward a frown, with a tinge of disappointment woven within. He wondered, fleetingly, what his cousin would say when she learned the news.
Or mayhaps she already had, and thus was the cause for her disappointment.
"Of course, my lord. " Madelyne rose as she spoke, her stomach squeezing. He had come to bring her the news of her betrothal. Tricky had been wrong. Her hands trembled slightly as she put aside her embroidery.
She felt a sudden rush of the past, remembering the day he'd come to take her from the abbey. She'd been sitting, engrossed in her work, in much the same manner that morning. . . and, like today, his very action of taking her from her work would serve to cause ripples throughout her life.
His presence arrested the room, and his person-tall, garbed in dark blue and forest green-towered among the women. It was as if the chamber held its collective breath when he entered, apprehension and respect exuding from all corners. Yet, Madelyne knew that the harsh, dark persona was a wall that had been built and she grieved that others could not see past it. With a brief glance at Judith, whose attention was focused, not on her but upon her cousin Gavin, Madelyne slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.
"Reginald was attending me when he was called to the king's side," she told him, once the eager ears of the ladies were behind them.
Gavin looked down at her, pausing there outside of the solar, searching her eyes. She had difficulty meeting his gaze, and looked away. "I have come with word as to what transpired in the king's chambers with your suitor," he told her. "Let us go to a private place and I will tell you all. "
She nodded, but said nothing as they made their way through the warren of halls, and then outside through a door she had not known existed. Around a hidden corner Gavin took her, past several small buildings, until they reached a small gate, well-hidden around a far corner of the keep.
With a grunt, he unjammed the iron lock and pushed the heavy gate open, gesturing for Madelyne to precede him. She stepped through, and found herself in a small garden, shaded and green and silent. The dull clang of the gate closing prompted her to turn in alarm, but Gavin was there behind her in the garden, standing with his hands at his back. Looking at her.
His face was unreadable-sharp-planed as always, but his lips settled in almost a smile, and his eyes, darkened by the shadow of the corner of the keep, fastened in a steady look upon her.
When she did not move, nor speak, he spread his arm in a wide gesture to encompass the small courtyard. "I bethought you would find peace and comfort here. Few know of it, and you will find it private and a place to enjoy as you will. 'Twas Mathilda's garden, when she was queen, and it has mostly been forgotten. "
Madelyne pulled her gaze from his and turned slowly to look about the garden. 'Twas small, and half-shaded by the castle wall, which, along with some other buildings she could not identify, enclosed the whole of the garden. Several trees-fruit trees, she thought, spying green bulbs of unripened apples and pears-enclosed a small stone bench. Plants that she easily identified as lavender, basil, thyme, rosemary, calendula, and other herbs grew in pleasing disarray among narrow pebbled paths. Obviously uncared for over time, the garden spoke of casual neglect and it called to her.
She turned back and saw that he'd taken steps toward her. Her heart thumping steadily in her breast, reverberating into her throat, she offered a smile of thanks. "My lord, 'tis very thoughtful of you to think of this. I had been missing my own gardens-and those at Mal Verne-since our arrival. But. . . surely you did not bring me here for any purpose other than to discuss my future. " Her smile faded as she recollected what that future would be.
"In truth, I brought you here for two reasons, Madelyne," he told her, gesturing to the bench. "The first was because I knew that it would please you to have a private place to go. . . and to be among God's beauty. I have not forgotten your joy at Mal Verne when you spent time in my gardens. " He cleared his throat, glancing at the bench again when she refused his invitation to sit. "'Tis a betrothal gift to you. . . of a kind. . . as I thought you would prefer it to jewels or other adornments. "
Madelyne's heart swelled painfully in her chest and tears threatened to sting her eyes. The foolish man. . . did he not know how bittersweet this gesture was? Refusing to look at him, she reached for a stalk of lavender, pulling her fingers along its stem. The sweet scent was released into the air as she rubbed the small indigo flowers between her fingers, trickling them onto the ground. "And the second reason?" she prompted, allowing a tinge of annoyance to color her words.
Gavin looked away. "I wished to tell you what transpired in the king's chambers in a place safe from prying ears. " He pushed his splayed fingers through the wild mass of hair on his head, then his hand dropped to his side as he took a step away.
"Why do you bring me here to tell me what I already know?" she asked yanking a bright yellow calendula flower from its scraggly green stem. "What all the court knows-that the king has presented Reginald with my hand and the betrothal papers are to be finalized. " She began to dismantle the peppery smelling bloom, scattering bright yellow petals on the ground.
"Madelyne, please sit. "
"I shall stand, thank you my lord. I have been sitting all the day. Please, I wish to hear what it is that you must say, so that I may return to my work. "
His chest rose as he took a deep breath; then the words rushed out. "The king changed his mind. He has decreed that you are to wed with me. "
It was a moment be
fore his words penetrated. Her body went cold, and then warm. Rushing with warmth. "You? I am to wed with you?"
He stepped toward her, capturing one of her hands with his own. "Aye, Madelyne. . . the court will soon know that you and I are to wed and that D'Orrais's suit was declined by the king. "
"But. . . why?" she asked, curling her fingers in his palm, her heart bumping along madly.
"He believed I would be the better man to keep you safe from your father. . . and to manage the lands at Tricourten, when they become yours. " He tugged her closer and found her other hand. "Madelyne, I am pleased with this arrangement. . . 'tis my hope that you will not find it too much of a disappointment. " Though his words were stilted, she saw the uncertainty in his eyes.
"I do not," she told him, stepping closer to him. "I do not find it a disappointment. " His presence engulfed her. . . the faint, basic scent of him-something sharp and clean-and the heat of his person. His fingers tightened around hers and he bent his head to press his lips to hers. . . gently.
Warmth streamed through her, as, soft lip to soft lip, they pressed together. . . breathed together. . . sighed together. Madelyne's lips curved in a gentle smile under his. Tricky had been right.
"Do you find my kisses amusing?" asked Gavin, pulling back just far enough to look into her eyes-and for her to see the faint amusement in his own. Beautiful, dark eyes in which she felt like drowning, they were. . . . unshuttered and open with emotion, soft and bathed in a gentle light. This was a Gavin she'd not seen before.
She stepped back, her fingers remaining clasped in his rough hands. "Nay, 'tis not you whom I find amusing, but my maidservant. . . and her unerring wisdom. "
"Tricky?" He sat on the bench and gently tugged her to sit beside him. The sides of their bodies touched, and he transferred both of her hands into one of his large ones. With the free hand, he reached to touch a tiny wisp of hair-one she'd not even felt escape from her coiffure-and smooth it back over the top of her head. "What is her unerring wisdom?"
Madelyne leaned slightly into his hand as it slid from the crown of her head to cup the side of her face. She would not tell him all-she must keep some secrets-but some little hint might be amusing. "My maid is determined that she will wed with your man. "
Gavin, his face relaxed from its familiar sharp planes into an almost handsome appearance, reached to pluck a daisy from behind her. "That is no secret she has an eye for Jube. . . though I would be well-surprised should he decide to wed, as his favorite past-time is to chase light-o-skirts. " He offered her the flower.
She took the daisy, brought it to her nose, then looked up at him from behind the petals, suddenly filled with joy. . . and something else, deep and warm and unfurling inside her. As if recognizing her feelings, his eyes darkened. His lips parted as he leaned toward her, pushing the flower from his path.
"Nay," she smiled under his mouth, "'tis not Jube but Clem that she will wed. " She kissed him back, now, reveling in how simple it had all become. She loved him and they would wed and they would kiss like this every day.
A shiver of comprehension flitted through her. So this was love, she thought, pressing her mouth to his, feeling his hands as they came around her body to pull her close-as their breaths joined, mingling with their mouths and mixing with their sighs.
"Clem?" he said, pulling back as though the words had just made their way to his consciousness. "Never. He cannot stand the sight of her. "
Madelyne looked at him, as sure now that Tricky would have her man as she'd been certain she would not. "Aye, my lord Gavin, they will wed. . . for Tricky has a faultless way of knowing. "
"And what would that be?"
"I would not tell you that. Just mark my words and when you learn that I'm right, you may beg my forgiveness for disbelieving me. " She allowed herself one of her rare, capricious smiles and was rewarded by an expression of pure desire-there was no mistaking it-that washed over Gavin's face.
"Madelyne," he whispered, pulling her to his chest; not to kiss her, but to hold her ear to his heartbeat, "have I told you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen?"
His arms around her, gathering her to him, her head settled under his chin, and her own hands splayed over his muscular back, Madelyne felt a security that she'd never felt before. She closed her eyes and smiled.
Sanctuary of Roses Page 23
