Fantin’s face flushed darkly when the band of fingers constricted, just as his own had around Madelyne’s arm. “Your lack of success in doing just that is legendary, Mal Verne,” he managed to gasp. “What makes you believe you’ll succeed this time? ’Tis I who have God’s strength behind me!”
Madelyne saw Gavin’s stone face darken, tightening murderously, and she muffled a gasp as she saw his intent. “Nay, Gavin, nay! Do not! ’Tis not right!”
It was a long moment, and Madelyne fairly stopped breathing—but in the end, Gavin relented and abruptly loosed his grip on Fantin’s throat. The man slumped to his knees, pure loathing settling on his face, as he looked around Gavin to shoot a poison look at Madelyne.
“Do you not fear, daughter—we shall meet again when you do not have your cowardly protector about. I’ll not let anyone stand in the way of our reunion—mark me well.” He struggled to his feet and smoothed a hand over his high, silvery-blond mane. Shooting a glare filled with loathing at Gavin, Fantin jeered, “Once again, sirrah, you have managed to hide behind the skirts of the king to get your way. Enjoy it whilst you have that advantage, for the king’s might is naught compared to that of my Lord’s.”
His face just as dark and furious, Gavin forbore to respond. Instead, he merely watched as Fantin scuttled away. As soon as he was out of earshot, he turned to Madelyne. “’Tis no more than you deserve,” he snapped, glaring at her as she rubbed her shoulder. “Do you not go unescorted through this castle—or anywhere—Lady Madelyne, or the next time, I may not be able to intervene. Have I not already warned you of that folly?”
“Once again, I owe you my thanks,” Madelyne replied from between lips stiffened to keep them from trembling. He was right in his anger and fury; he had warned her.
“Come. I’ll see that you reach your chamber with no further incident.” He offered her a solid arm, and she winced when she raised her hand to accept it. “What? My lady, are you hurt?” Gavin stopped and peered searchingly at her.
“Only a bit of an ache on my shoulder,” Madelyne replied evasively, still stung by his sharp reprimand, and stunned by all that had happened so quickly. She turned to continue walking, but he whirled her back to face him.
“Wait.” The command gentled his voice as firm fingers gingerly felt along her arm, up along her shoulder. “I did not know he’d hurt you,” Gavin said, his mouth tightening when she winced at the probe of his forefinger. He looked down at her, and Madelyne recognized concern in his gray eyes. Their gazes met and held fast as the world slowed.
Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly became acutely aware of the warmth and heaviness of the fingers that were now caressing her arm. Despite the haze of disbelief and bewilderment that had benumbed her since her audience with King Henry, Madelyne felt her pulse leap. Heightened sensitivity blaze throughout her limbs. When Gavin’s other hand, large and brown, reached up to tuck away a lock of hair that had fallen from her coiffure, she thought she might stop breathing.
Her lips parted slightly, fulling, as Madelyne looked up at him, and she saw his eyes flare wider for an instant before they narrowed.
“The king has the right of it,” Gavin said in a low voice, “you are much too beautiful to be a nun.” His hand, which had hovered, raised, now lifted higher to slip a lock of hair behind her ear. He brushed along her jawline, sending warmth to suffuse her face.
Then, his words registered through her foggy mind and sanity reigned. “Too beautiful?” Madelyne stepped away, backing into the damp stone wall, then shifting to the right. “What has beauty to do with anything?”
Chagrin flooded his face and he dropped his hand back to his side. His features realigned into the familiar stone mask and his eyes took on a sardonic gleam. “’Tis no secret our king has an eye for comely women,” he replied.
Madelyne tucked her fingers into her sleeves and turned away. “Then more’s the pity for her majesty the queen. And again, I ask, Lord Gavin,” she said, purposely using his title to reaffirm distance between them, “what has beauty to do with a woman’s religious vocation? Must I mutilate my face or shave my hair in order to be allowed to do that which I wish?” She swallowed heavily, barely able to keep her voice from breaking in frustration.
“That would be a very foolish thing to do,” he responded quickly. “His majesty has already made his decision, and ’twould serve no purpose to harm yourself so—only to cause yourself pain.” He took her arm firmly—the one that did not pain her—and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “Come, now, lady. I shall return you to your chamber so that your hurt can be seen to.”
Fifteen
Despite the fact that he’d just left Henry’s presence, Gavin was readmitted to the king’s courtroom upon his request. The courtier who had dismissed him an hour earlier swung the large oaken door open once again, bowing Gavin into the large room.
“Aye, Gavin, what is it that brings you back so soon?” Henry griped, glancing up from a parchment missive that still had a bit of blue wax clinging to it.
“De Belgrume is here. And he nearly relieved you of the wardship of his daughter.” Rage still simmered in his hands, causing them to clench and unclench in memory of Fantin’s soft neck.
“What? Here? In my court?” Henry bolted from his chair. “How can that be? He has been banned for two winters!”
“I do not know, but he would have made off with Madelyne had I not arrived on the scene as I did. I can only suspect that he was waiting without for an opportunity to grab her. You know as well as I the number of spies in this court.” Gavin stepped aside as his king stalked off the dais and past him to thrust the parchment he’d been holding into the face of his secretary, who sat, shoulders scrunched, in the corner.
“And did you do no damage to the man?”
Gavin’s mouth tightened. “I nearly sent the man to his grave. My hands were thus about his skinny neck.”
“Nearly?” Henry bellowed. “Why in the blazes did you not rid me of that pestilence—and yourself of the same man who has taken so much from you?”
“I could have, my lord…but she begged me stay my hand, and I did.”
“Surely she does not care for his health. There was fear in her eyes when I mentioned his name.”
“She is murderously afraid of the man, and moreso now that she has felt the madness again. But she is a nun—or meant to be—my liege, and she does not believe in wanton killing. She…prays for the souls of men of violence. Those such as you and I.”
Henry gave him an assessing look. “You stayed your hand at the throat of your deepest enemy because a woman begged you to? You, Mal Verne—you who have been made a cuckold, a near-murderer, a laughing-stock by that man?” He scratched his wiry copper hair, shaking his head. “I would have rewarded you greatly should you have relieved my kingdom of such a pestilence.”
Gavin swallowed annoyance at the reminder of de Belgrume’s sins upon himself: all of them, and, too, the damage done to his cousin Judith. “Ah, but then you—in your infinite quest for justice—would have had to throw me in the dungeon for murder,” he reminded the king.
“Many in the land know de Belgrume is mad—with all of his talk of finding the secrets of the ancients and turning metals into gold.”
“Aye. The man has the flame of madness in his eyes that was not there even six moons ago. He spoke as if he was doing the Will of God, as if he had some power from the Almighty behind him,” Gavin replied, his face settling into soberness. “Many might know he is mad, as you have said, but others do not believe it, and are tricked into believing his work.” He didn’t need to mention Nicola or Gregory as two who had fallen to that trap.
“We know he has been the cause of deaths, and unnecessary warring in the south,” Henry countered, sloshing wine into his cup. “And there is more, we suspect—but cannot prove.”
“Aye. He is a wily man, taking care to protect himself—else you would have incarcerated him long ago. With no proof, I would be labeled the murderer of an innocent man.” Gavin frowned and directed the conversation away from his own shortcomings and to the purpose which had brought him there. “Madelyne needs to be protected, or
