by Колин Глисон
“Lord Gavin told me I should seek you out should I need assistance, but I did not know that it was you of whom he spoke,” she replied carefully.
“How did he come to find you? How did you come to be alive?”
Madelyne gave a simple version of the escape she and her mother had made ten years earlier, careful to repeat the tale that Lady Anne had perished some years after reaching the abbey. “Lord Gavin came upon the abbey which had been our refuge, and after the sisters treated his wounds and those of his men, we released them.” She thought it best not to refer to the trick she’d played on Gavin. “’Twas only a fortnight later that he returned with an order from the king demanding my presence at court.” She looked questioningly at Judith. “I do not know why his majesty has ordered an audience with me.”
A flash of surprise flitted across Judith’s face. “King Henry has requested your presence? But Gavin told me—” She stopped abruptly and bit her lower lip. For a moment, she looked uncertain, and Madelyne watched her steadily, her heart freezing.
Then Judith clapped her hands together in chagrin. “’Tis always my loose tongue that puts me into the fire!” She shook her head, and a thick coppery braid swung around, falling over her shoulder.
“What did Lord Gavin tell you?” Madelyne asked with a calmness she did not feel.
Judith sat upright on the curtained bed, still gnawing at her lower lip. “He came to me to ask if I recalled the markings on your wrist,” she gestured to Madelyne’s left hand, the wrist barely exposed by the tight sleeve of her undertunic. “’Tis how he came to recognize you, if you did not know.”
Madelyne inclined her head, trying to subdue the churning in her middle. “What concern was it to him?”
“Your father and Gavin of Mal Verne are sworn enemies,” Judith told her, her eyes wide and solemn. “Gavin has vowed to crush Fantin de Belgrume, and he has the support of the king in this.”
“King Henry has given his permission that Lord Gavin should kill my father?”
“Nay, not to kill him—’though, in truth, methinks Gavin would not hesitate to do so should he have a permissible reason. His majesty wishes only that de Belgrume, who has waged reckless war on other barons to steal their lands, should be brought under control.”
It suddenly became clear to Madelyne how she’d been manipulated. “Lord Gavin has brought me to the king to suit his own purposes then,” she said flatly. “The king has not requested my presence—’twas only to suit Mal Verne that he has done so.”
Judith must have seen the coldness that settled over Madelyne’s features, for she reached out to touch her friend’s hand. “Maddie, Gavin does not mean you any harm—”
Madelyne drew away. “I do not know that. I do know that I’m here against my will, having been taken from the sanctuary in which I sought refuge—in which I was happy—for years. In this world, this man’s world, I lose the freedoms I had in the abbey: the freedom to write and read, to manage my own affairs within the abbey, and the freedom to answer to no man except the king—who knew me not until Lord Gavin blazoned my presence to him.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, fighting the fear and anger that swarmed her. She had been a fool to believe the man meant her no harm…a fool to consider that a man might have more than his own interests at heart. Lady Anne had warned her over many years…and every word her mother had spoken had flown away in the presence of Gavin of Mal Verne.
“I am to be used, then, to bring my father to heel—or to his death.” Her voice was dull and her mind numb. “Then Lord Gavin spoke true when he named me hostage. I am to be a tool, a carrot to dangle in my father’s face.” All hope of returning to her private, simple life at the abbey disintegrated, and she stood abruptly, moving to look out of a small arrow-slit window.
“Madelyne—” But before Judith could finish her sentence, a rap sounded at the door, followed by the announcement that the maidservants had returned.
Madelyne turned to answer it, pausing with her hand on the leather strap. “For what reason does Lord Gavin seek such destruction of my father?”
For the first time, Judith’s eyes shuttered and her face lost its inherent glow. “He seeks to avenge a wrong he believes your father has done me, and to atone for Gavin’s own perceived sins toward me. And…for the other cause he has to hate your father—you will have to ask Gavin yourself.”
* * *
Although Madelyne pressed her for more information regarding Gavin’s relationship with her father, Judith did not feel she should divulge more details. She would do nothing to promote Gavin’s own feelings of guilt.
She made certain to remain in Madelyne’s chamber until dinner, so that she could escort her proud friend to the hall where the meals took place. She’d been pleasantly surprised that Gavin had arranged a private chamber for her, but vexed that he had not visited his charge since leaving her there the day before. Thus, Madelyne had not ventured from the room, and had relied on her maids Patricka and Peg to procure bread, cheese, and wine for her meals.
“You must be starved!” she exclaimed when she learned of Maddie’s simple fare.
Shaking her head, Madelyne replied with a quiet smile, “Nay, Judith, I am most content with the simple meals, for that is how we supped in the abbey. ’Tis true, I may find myself more overwhelmed than comfortable in the royal court.” A glint of humor lit her luminous eyes and Judith smiled in return.
She patted her lightly on the cheek. “Maddie, somehow I sense that you shall garner strength and boldness that you did not know you have when confronted by the whirlwind of the court. At the least, you shall have myself, who knows much of what goes on here—and what I do not know, I most usually can learn.” She took a last, appraising look at Madelyne, who, with her help, had shed her outdated gown and was garbed in a more stylish mode of clothing.
Madelyne was an exceptionally beautiful woman, Judith thought to herself—not for the first time. With her fair, smooth skin and midnight dark hair, she would likely cause a stir among the queen’s ladies—as well as among the noblemen and men-at-arms who were part of the court. Now that she wore more fashionable clothing, the snipes and darts borne from jealousy would not carry the added sting of belittling her clothing or branding her a country mouse.
Judith had chosen an emerald green undergown from her own wardrobe for Madelyne to wear. Although she’d initially balked at the form-fitting skirt that laced up the side and along the sleeves, Madelyne had acquiesced and now wore that, covered by a floor-length overtunic of sapphire blue. Onda, Judith’s tiring maid, had shown Peg and Tricky the intricacies of braiding Maddie’s thick dark hair and looping it in stylish snoods over each ear. The snoods also belonged to Judith, and they sparkled with tiny gold beads nestled against the black masses of braids.
“Absolutely breathtaking,” Judith told her, cocking her wrist to place a forefinger on her pert chin. “You will turn every head, and they will wonder who you are.”
Madelyne blanched, her hands going automatically to touch her hair. “But I do not wish to attract attention!”
“Now, Maddie,” Judith chided, linking an arm with her, “you cannot hide your beauty, and you shall soon be known to all anyway…so ’tis best to do it under your own terms. Come, we mustn’t be late.”
Brushing aside the unhappy expression on Madelyne’s face, Judith propelled them out of the chamber, leaving the maids to scurry behind in their wake.
Upon reaching the hall where the masses of people who followed the royal court ate their meals, Judith paused, stretching onto her toes to look over the gathering. She hoped to spot Gavin and insist that he sit with them at table, or, at the least, that he settle them in a place near the royal dais. Aside of that, she intended to sharpen her tongue on him for leaving Madelyne to her own devices. A sigh caught at her, and Judith lowered from the balls of her feet onto her heels. She meant to take Gavin to task—if she found him—but their relationship was tenuous and fraught with tension, and ’
twas likely he’d only turn cold and blank and proceed to act unerringly the gentleman, accepting the reprimand and his fault in the matter.
Her lips pursed. If only he’d show some emotion other than anger or blankness! Judith squeezed Maddie’s hand and began to pull her through the crowd, heading toward the royal dais. There had been a time when Gavin laughed and joked, and his face warmed with smiles and caring…a time before Nicola, before Gregory…and before Fantin de Belgrume.
She threaded her way between the rows of tables, tugging Madelyne behind her. Suddenly, she felt the cool fingers slip from hers, and Judith stopped, turning about. “Maddie, are you—” She swallowed her words when she saw Gavin standing there, his face dark and unreadable as ever.
Madelyne had frozen and, having drawn her hand away from Judith, had folded her hands demurely over her waist. “Why, Lord Gavin, ’tis a surprise to see you. I thought you must have left the court.”
Her words, quiet, calm, and without a hint of rancor, delighted Judith and made it unnecessary for her to make the selfsame point to him. The kitten does have claws, she thought, hiding a smile.
He gave a small bow, his gaze traveling over Madelyne from head to toe, then flickering to Judith. “I see that you are none the worse for your first day at court,” he replied mildly, returning his attention to Maddie.
Judith stepped toward him, taking his arm with a firm grip. She looked up into his face and directed a bright smile laced with temper at him. “Madelyne had not ventured from her chamber since yestereve, and I bethought ’twas nigh time she found her way to sup with the rest of us.”
Gavin had the grace to show a bit of shame as he made another slight bow to Madelyne, offering her his arm. “Many apologies, my lady,” he said. “I did not mean to leave you unattended for so long, but my services were required elsewhere and I would have sent word had I known how long I was to be occupied.”
Madelyne glanced at his proffered arm, but made no move to take it. Instead, she cast a cool smile at him and responded, “Do you not fear, my lord, ’twas not your presence that I felt lacking, but the desire to sup on more than bread and cheese. With Lady Judith to assist me in that, I should only need from you an introduction to his majesty, and you shall need to dance attendance upon me no further. Unless I am to play some momentous role in your vengeance upon my father?”
Judith swallowed back an exclamation of surprise at her friend’s direct and powerful censure, and looked at Gavin. His countenance remained stone-like and immovable as always, although she saw a flare of surprise widen his eyes for a brief instant before he turned a frigid gaze onto herself. “You have ever the loose tongue, do you not, Judith?” Annoyance set in his face and his lips firmed into chiseled marble.
Then he turned back to their companion. “Lady Madelyne, I will be pleased to see that you are made known to his majesty. As to your role in the vengeance that I will have upon your father…it remains to be seen how you will figure there. Now, ladies, with your permission, I will escort you to your seats and I will leave you to your own devices.”
Thirteen
Gavin slugged back a gulp of foamy ale. It burned the back of his throat, warming its way down to his belly, and settled there, heightening the faint haze that softened his mind. Someone guffawed in his ear—’twas Thomas, laughing at his own jest—whilst another companion snorted with mirth, spewing ale from his mouth and spraying Gavin’s cheek.
With a swipe over his face, Gavin laughed too, automatically, then took another drink. He leaned an elbow on the split log table that was sticky from spilled ale and reminded himself again not to look in the direction of the high table. If he did, it would seem as though he were looking at Judith and Lady Madelyne.
Aye, if he turned that way, it might appear that he was interested in what the ladies were doing, or as though he cared whether they had been joined by any of the noblemen who visited the king’s court.
He wasn’t interested and he didn’t care.
On the morrow, he would make certain that Lady Madelyne had her audience with King Henry, and he and the sovereign would determine the best way to notify de Belgrume that his daughter was in their custody. Then, he, Gavin, need have naught further to do with her, and he could return to Mal Verne, knowing that de Belgrume was under the king’s control at last.
He tightened his fingers around the wooden ale cup. Allowing de Belgrume to live was not his preference…but in this, he must obey his king until Fantin misstepped again. Then, Gavin vowed, he would be waiting for the opportunity to finish what had been started seven years earlier.
The sweet sound of a lute caught his ears, wafting over the dull roar of the diners. Forgetting that he didn’t want to look that way, Gavin turned toward the high table where Henry and his queen, Eleanor, supped. Instead of seeking the musician, his gaze found and settled on the willowy figure of Lady Madelyne only three tables away. She’d been seated facing him, but now had half-turned toward the lute player, giving Gavin a covert view of her profile.
He couldn’t pull his attention away. She looked so calm and serene, beautiful in her composure in the midst of the energetic, rowdy crowd. He saw the slim, white column of her neck—bared now that the thick masses of braids had been gathered above her ears—and watched the curve of it shift innocently as she strained to look between the crowd to see the musician. The bareness of her neck seemed almost obscene to Gavin, for she still had the aura of an innocent, virginal nun, and the baring of such skin was too intimate for a protected woman.
He frowned, tasting his ale again, but still unwilling to look away. He could still taste the sweetness of her full mouth beneath his, and had no delay in summoning to memory the feel of her soft curves molding beneath his hands. Desire that he had suppressed sprang to life, sending waves of heat pulsing through the core of his abdomen, and lower.
He swore silently, then buried his face in the ale cup again …but his gaze remained fixed on Madelyne.
Judith chose that moment to glance in his direction, and Gavin looked away too late. He felt his neck warm as he jerked his eyes away, pretending to look at the lute-player. His time would be better spent looking for a willing maidservant in the stead of gaping at a holy woman.
With renewed firmness, he turned away, his gaze scanning the rearmost tables for the comely maidservant he especially sought when at court.
“Who is the woman there?” asked Lord Ferrell, one of the men with whom he was seated.
Gavin swung to look at him and caught the eye of Thomas, who had a brow raised in question. Gavin gave a sharp nod, and his friend replied, “’Tis Lady Madelyne de Belgrume, Ferrell, lately arrived at court.”
“De Belgrume?” Ferrell’s bushy eyebrows twitched in confusion. “The get of Fantin de Belgrume? I did not believe he had an heir.” He turned to look toward Madelyne again, and Gavin could easily discern the thoughts that bumbled through the man’s head. “Did he not have a daughter who perished some years ago? And a wife too? Do you not tell me… ” his voice trailed off and he stared at the woman, his eyes slitting as his brows twitched. “’Tis not the selfsame woman, is it, Thomas? Where has he hidden such a beauty all these years?” He made to stand, brushing crumbs from his tunic and swiping a hand over his wiry gray hair.
“Sit down, Ferrell, and stick your pecker back in your breeches,” Gavin drawled, shifting his shoulders to alleviate the tension that was gathering there. “The wench came from an abbey—-she is promised to be a nun.”
Ferrell looked at him blankly, then returned his gaze to Madelyne. “’Tis a good jest, Mal Verne, but I vow, I’ve never seen a woman who looks less like a holy woman than that wench.”
“I brought her from the abbey myself,” Gavin told him, a bit of steel creeping into his voice. “She’s under the protection of the king.”
Ferrell frowned again, then sank back onto the bench where he’d been seated. “Bloody shame,” he said sadly, bringing his cup to his mouth and slurping. “Bloody damned shame.�
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Gavin’s mind echoed those thoughts, and he swiveled to cast a last glance at Madelyne’s table. His momentary relief vanished when he saw Lord Reginald D’Orrais laughing as he took a seat next to her.
* * *
’Twas heaven…pure heaven.
Madelyne sighed, pushing away the knowledge that, strictly speaking, it was a blasphemous thought, and closed her eyes. Strong fingers kneaded her skull, threading through her hair and loosening the ten braids that had pulled her scalp taut for hours. The dull ache gave way to relief and she sighed again, resting her head in the palms of her maid’s hands.
Tricky’s chatter flowed in and out of Madelyne’s consciousness just as her nimble fingers brushed through Maddie’s long hair. “…Never seen such food! I could barely choose betwixt the rabbit, the capon, and the roast goose…an’ when they brought forth the stuffed pigeons, I thought I’d eat to bursting!” She reached in front of Madelyne for a comb carved of wormwood with bits of mother of pearl inlaid amongst the etchings on its side.
“How did you come by such a pretty comb?” asked Madelyne curiously. It slid smoothly through her hair, running over her shoulder and along the length of her back, past the edge of the stool on which she sat.
“’Twas a gift,” Tricky replied smugly, maintaining her rhythm of long, sure strokes. “Whilst Clem and I were gone to seek aught for you to break your fast, we chanced upon a merchant showing his wares. I made such a moon-face of myself that he had no choice but to buy it for me.” She giggled girlishly, jerking Madelyne’s hair in her distraction. She froze, smoothing her fingers solicitiously over the tender spot. “Ah, my lady, forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Madelyne laughed softly at her friend’s enthusiasm. Since leaving Lock Rose Abbey, it had become clear to her that Patricka was in no manner suited for the life of a nun…nor was Madelyne any more certain that she was cut of a maid’s cloth. “You didn’t hurt me, Tricky, ’though such inattention could do so in the future. Nevertheless, you have worked such magic on my aching head that I would forgive you in a trice even if you had pulled my hair.” She sighed, smiling, suddenly in a delightful mood. “I shall remember not to ask you of your paramours whilst you have a brush in my hair anon.”
